My Strange God

Not long ago, I discovered something about myself that horrified me. I was going about my day, running my usual errands, driving from post office to bank, and repeatedly peeking in the rearview mirror to check on my son. From seemingly nowhere, I felt the words that gave me pause.

"You're idol worshiping."

What? Where did that comefrom? I kept driving, my eyes on the road, my mind on God. How could I be an idol worshiper? Even that phrase felt ridiculous to me.

I know that in our contemporary age this first commandment no longer has to mean that we mold our jewelry into a golden calf and burn offerings to it. I get that it doesn't have to be so outwardly dramatic. But, I don't worship money, that's for sure. I may be on the computer a bit too much, but typically it's to pay bills or check on my tutoring schedule. And I definitely don't believe in more than one God. Certain people in my life may be confused by my belief in three persons in one God, but it's still just one God.

And then, as I came to a red light, I saw him in my rearview mirror. My son. Not my golden calf, but my golden boy. My big gift from heaven in the body of a little man.

I think God's been trying to get through to me on this point for a while. A couple of years ago, I had a dream in which I saw Jesus on the ground, just taken down from the Cross, the crown of thorns still piercing His scalp. It crossed my mind to run to Him and gently lift that crown from His head, but I stayed still and simply stared. In my dream, He looked at me and said, "Why do you stand there? If I were your son, you'd run to me immediately to ease My pain. So, why don't you do that for Me?" He wasn't wrong. But, then again, God never is.

After that, I tried to amend my ways, but I ignored the notion that in my life I place my son above God. Instead, I focused on the minor theme running through that dream - that each thorn in Jesus' crown represented one of my sins. I took from that dream that I needed to make a more conscious effort to avoid sinning, however minor. In that way, I could relieve God of any further pain caused Him by me. But, I neglected my biggest sin of all: my breaking of the first commandment.

It's not that we aren't to love our children immensely. Of course we are. But, as the saying goes that we can't love others if we don't first love ourselves, so it also goes that we can't love ourselves or others properly if we don't first love God. And, in my life, it wasn't God, then family. In my life, it was my family (specifically my son), then God.

I perfectly understood why that is. Before having our son, my husband and I suffered the loss of two babies, one to miscarriage and the other to ectopic pregnancy. Naturally, I expected my third pregnancy to end at any moment. I went through those nine months wondering at what point we would have to rush back to the emergency room. Week by week, I contemplated whether we would be far enough along to know our baby's gender. I wondered if we would have a few moments to hold him this time, or if we'd be able to bury her this time. Morbid, I know, but before having our son, all I knew about children was losing them.

Once our son was born, I felt a sense of control return. Now that he was here, I could marvel at the gift God had given us, and I would do what I couldn't when he was within me: I would now keep him safe.

But, the danger in this notion is that the control is mine, not God's. The danger is that I distrust that God has us all taken care of and that He loves my son more than I do. I begin to put my son first because I doubt that God does. And I have to admit that living that way doesn't work very well.

We all have people in our lives we are scared to give over to God. We have spouses who are far from the Church, parents who have been diagnosed with serious illness, siblings or friends who make detrimental choices in their lives, and, yes, children who we are terrified we will in some way lose. Our fear for our loved ones and need to keep them safe can be so great that, slowly, we begin to place them, or ourselves, above God. Without noticing, we begin to doubt God's ability, that He really does know what is best for us, and so we try to control the situation ourselves. "Thanks, God," we say, "but I'll take it from here."

The Catechism of the Catholic Church, in its discussion of the first commandment, asks, "Who could not place all hope in him?" (2086, emphasis mine). But, often, and usually unintentionally, we don't.

God's desire for us to place all hope in Him rather than in ourselves isn't because He is an egotistical God. Like all the commandments, it's for us, because He knows that if we live our lives according to His commandments, we will have peace. If I could just let go of my need for control, and trustingly place my son in God's hands, what peace would come to me! Even the thought leaves me breathing a sigh of relief, and I feel a huge burden lifted from my shoulders. In trusting God with our loved ones, we free ourselves of unbearable responsibility, of a responsibility that, really, only He can handle.