Again and again I tell God I need help, and God says, 'Well, isn't that fabulous? Because I need help too. So you go get that old woman over there some water, and I'll figure out what we're going to do about your stuff.
You can safely assume that you've created God in your own image when it turns out that God hates all the same people you do.
I don't know much, but I understand how entirely doomed I am without God.
A priest friend of mine has cautioned me away from the standard God of our childhoods, who loves you and guides you and then, if you are bad, roasts you: God as a high school principal in a gray suit who never remembered your name but is always leafing unhappily through your files.
When he sees little kids sitting in the backseat of cars, in those little car seats that have steering wheels, with grim expressions of concentration on their faces, clearly convinced that their efforts are causing the car to do whatever it is doing, he thinks of himself and his relationship with God: God who drives along silently, gently amused, in the real driver's seat.
if you want to know how God feels about money, look at whom she gives it to.
I could become like that dyslexic agnostic in the old joke - the one who lies in bed and tries to figure out if his dog exists.
Sometimes it feels like God has reached down and touched me, blessed me a thousand times over, and sometimes it all feels like a mean joke, like God's advisers are Muammar Qaddafi and Phyllis Schlafly.
Looking back on the God my friend believed in, he seems a little erratic, not entirely unlike her father - God as borderline personality.
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