My God Is Not Reckless
It is no secret that I'm not a huge fan of the song "Reckless Love."
That's a soap box I could stand on for hours, defining terms and breaking down how we can't allow our preference for a catchy tune to allow us to embrace what is, at best, shaky theology. I could quote Scriptures and cite evidence upon evidence demonstrating that God's love is anything but reckless, and I have done so to exhaustion many times in the past. (I have refrained from doing so on this website, mainly because people's defenses of the song are largely emotional in nature, and so I would prefer to have a face-to-face conversation with them.)
It's no secret that I'm not a fan of the song, but it wasn't until my father passed away last week that I truly began to process the practical ramifications of such shaky theology. Prior to last week, my opposition to calling God "reckless" was more so a result of zeal for correct doctrine and sober worship; now, however, my opposition is from the stance of someone whose present hope and present joy is rooted firmly in the fact that God is not reckless. If I am wrong, my living hope, my current joy, and my present peace are built on a house of cards, and my faith is in vain.
“RECKLESS”
A quick Google search for the word "RECKLESS" provides the following definition: without thinking or caring about the consequences of an action. Synonyms include rash, careless, thoughtless, inattentive, irresponsible, unthinking, mindless.
Now, hear me out: I've been in the debate before and I know the arguments. "That’s not what we mean by 'reckless,'" they will say, and then proceed to explain what they do mean, and 98.76% of the time it ends up being something more along the lines of 'relentless' than 'reckless.' Here's the issue: In order to defend the use of the word, they have to change the definition of the word. The power to win an argument is the power to define your terms, and so I stand firmly by the motto "Say what you mean; mean what you say." If you mean relentless, say "relentless"; if you don't mean reckless, don't say "reckless." If the definitions of words cease to have any meaning, then words themselves likewise cease to have any meaning at all, and meaningful communication becomes an impossibility. Therefore, regardless of what is MEANT by the term "reckless," I can only present my argument based upon what the majority of people will UNDERSTAND when they hear it sung. And as a person in the midst of grieving, how damning the word can actually be in describing the love of God.
IS GOD THOUGHTLESS?
My dad and I were riding our bikes together in the woods one moment—having a great time laughing and enjoying one another's company—but only a few seconds later, I held his bleeding body in my hands as he took his final breaths, the result of a freak accident that took him from me before I even had the time to say goodbye. The God who gave me my father has chosen to take him away from me; am I to think that He did this without thought for me or without thought of His creation or without thought of what He was doing? One of the most gracious things God ever did was give me my father, and it is that gracious love that has left me comforted and secure in trusting that the same loving God chose to take my father away. But if God is thoughtless—if He doesn’t think through His actions or show any thoughtfulness towards His Creation our purposes before undertaking those things which He does—then not only was God's giving me my father a result of mere careless happenstance, but His taking my dad away from me was likewise nothing more than a meaningless series of unfortunate events flowing forth from the impulsive actions of a non-personal deity. If God is reckless, then God did not consider what He was doing when He chose to give me my dad, nor did He consider what He was doing when He chose to take him away. My joy and my grief, then, come not from God, but from futile faith placed in a thoughtless creator. Yet is this the God the Bible teaches of? I do not think so; in fact, I would say that this is the opposite of the biblical God.
Our God is a thoughtful God: “How precious to me are your thoughts, O God! How vast is the sum of them! If I would count them, they are more than the sand. I awake, and I am still with you” (Psalm 139:17-18).
IS GOD CARELESS?
Am I to think that when God chose to take my father from me, He did not care for the effects such an action would have on me or those around me? When he allowed my father to flip over his bike and land on his head, did God not care what effect that fall would have on my father's own life, and did He not sovereignly declare that it was time for my father to come home to glory? Was the entire accident the result of reckless deity who cared neither for me nor my father, neither for my family nor my friends, but was merely impulsively having fun with His omnipotent power? When the Bible speaks of the steadfast love and the mercy and the grace and the kindness of God, are these words just empty fluff meant to provide the grieving with a futile comfort, or do they actually mean something? I believe that God's love is real; I believe that He does care for His creation and that He does want to comfort them in their sorrow.
Our God is a caring God: “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul. He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me” (Psalm 23:1-4).
If God is reckless, then the Bible is a liar; if the Bible is a liar, our hope is in vain. But if the Bible is true, then God grieved along with me even as He took my dad from me, and He only took Him because it was part of His greater and ultimate plan whereby He would work all things for the good of those who love Him. This brings me to my final point:
DOES GOD THINK ABOUT THE CONSEQUENCES?
Was my father's death the result of a mere impulse? Did God, sitting in heaven, look down upon earth on May 8, 2020 around 4:00pm and, at the flick of His finger, send my dad to his untimely death? Did He not consider the full extent of what He was doing when He allowed my dad to pass from life to death? Did He not have mine or my mother's grieving in mind when I held my father's body in my arms?
The Bible speaks of a God who planned man's salvation since before time began, since before even the first sin was committed. It speaks of a God who was willing to send His own down as a propitation for the sins of man in order that sinful man might be saved. Can it be truly said that such a God does bot care for the consequences of His actions? Did God not care about what happened when He said "Let there be light?" Did He not care what happened as His Son was beaten and mocked and scourged and crucified? Did He not care about what He was allowing as He saw me, His little child, weeping over my father's body? The Bible says that God loves us; my question is this: Can love truly be reckless at all? Love that does not care about consequences is not love at all. Therefore, I see no way whereby the God who is love can be reckless, because it is His being love that demands He care about the consequences of what He does.
Our God cares about consequences: “For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother's womb” (Psalm 139:13). Even from before the time we are in our mother’s womb, He knows the people we will one day become. He knows what is to come from all things, and He works all things according to His own purposes: “And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose” (Romans 8:28).
CONCLUSION
My God is not reckless. The God of the Bible—the God who is—is not the type of God who takes action without thinking or caring about the consequences of that action. Rather, the God of the Bible is the opposite of reckless: He is a thoughtful God who cares deeply about the consequences of His actions. Being the embodiment of love, God cannot be reckless, because reckless love is not love at all.
So no, my God is not reckless. He is not reckless, and therein lies my hope during this trying time. Because my God is not reckless, I can grieve as a man with hope, because I trust that the God who took my dad away from me is a God who does think, who does care, and who does consider the consequences of His actions. God's being good means very little if He is reckless; if He is not reckless, however, His goodness gives us much reason for present hope. And so, because my God is not reckless—because He knew my grief since before the beginning of time and because He has purposed this time of grieving to help me grow for the purposes of His glory—I will count it all joy to grieve, because I trust on my God. I grieve, but I have hope. I mourn, but I have joy. I weep, but I have faith. I sing, for I have God.