God, I just want to be okay.

Trust me.

I want to, but how can I when there is so much I don’t know or understand? Doubts and questions plague my mind. The more I seek to know, the more questions I unearth. The history of people who doubt is just as long as those who believe.

Without doubt, people would never have discovered how things work and how to make things better. Without doubt, belief doesn’t mean much. Don’t be afraid of doubt.

I see that we’ve progressed in our complexity and understanding, and so many things are possible now that weren’t before – cures for diseases, ways to communicate across continents and oceans, earthquake resistant building design. But things aren’t really better. People are lonely, we’ve invented new ways to kill each other, and the gods of religion remain enigmatically silent.

But I am not a god of religion. I am God, creator of the heavens and earth, in whose image you were formed.

Why are you hard to find? Are you hiding? Will you reveal yourself and make things right?

I made you with the capacity to learn and discover and create. I gave you many resources both within and without. I built a knowledge of my existence into you. I wanted to know your joy, your pain, your experience, your growth. But I didn’t want to force you. I made it possible for you to experience the epiphany of discovering me. That means, if you don’t look, you might not see me.

How is that fair? And can’t you see that we make a mess of things?

How do you know what fair is? Who taught you about justice? I cry over the messes that you make. I cry over the pain you inflict, and the pain inflicted on you. In the fullness of time, I will make things right.

But why didn’t you just make things right from the start?

From your own human experience, you know the joy of allowing your children to discover things, to figure things out, to create and design. Sometimes while they’re discovering, figuring, and creating, they get hurt and make messes, don’t they?

Yes, but on a much smaller scale. And then I help them clean up the messes and treat their injuries.

So do I. But you can’t see from my perspective.

Then show me.

You aren’t ready to know. But I can be trusted. I know what it’s like to be in a family, to learn, to grow. I experienced the life I created for you on earth. And I did something you couldn’t do because you needed it, but weren’t able to.

But how can I be confident you’re even there, let alone trust that you’re good. The people who’ve claimed to know you have done so many evil things in your name. Why haven’t you stopped that?

Without faith it is impossible to please me.

Why should I want to please you? How can I be sure that you are good?

Read the story of my son. Watch how he lived, and died, and lived again. If you see him for who he is, you’ll see me. You can decide for yourself if I am good. You can decide for yourself if you want to please me.

What happens if I decide not to try to please you?

I’ll be sad. You are my child. It’s hard to watch your children choose what is less than the best, knowing that if they just listened to you, it would be so much better. But you’re autonomous. And the fullness of time still hasn’t come. So I’ll wait and watch and give you hints as you go.

Can you help me be okay? Can you give me peace while I’m trying to figure things out?

My peace I give to you. Not as the world gives, but my peace. Don’t be anxious, just tell me what you want. Tell me what you need. Then rest and wait, I’ll give you peace. Trust me.