When I ask [“Does God like you?”], I try to keep eye contact, but it is amazing how quickly people drop their eyes to the ground. It is painfully clear this is an uncomfortable question. Rather than interrupting the uneasy silence that often follows such a question, I sometimes notice eyes starting to moisten. Why? What is behind this visceral reaction to a simple question? – You’re Only Human by Kelly M. Kapic

I have a writing problem: villains.

The worst villains in my stories have little depth and tend to come across as doing evil things For the Evulz. This is because I know – from experience – that as soon as I give them personality and motivations, I will go, “But look at all the good things about them. Look how hurt they are. Look how good they could be,” and I will want to give them a redemption arc. And sometimes, storywise, one needs a villain without a redemption arc.

I think there’s a picture here of how God feels about sinful human beings. The God who “loved the world so much that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not be lost but may have eternal life.” The God who “wants everyone to be saved and reach full knowledge of the truth.” I love my characters. I like my characters. As soon as I get to know them, I want the worst of them to be better, not just so they stop doing bad things, but because I like who they are and I want it to shine.

As finite humans, I’m not sure we’re capable of liking every other finite human in the world. Interests and temperaments and personalities differ, not always in compatible ways. We don’t have the capacity or time to deeply know every single person we encounter. This means that for us, sometimes treating others with love has to be a choice we make in spite of not liking them much. Although we can instead make sinful choices out of our limitations, the limitations themselves are not inherently sinful. God made finite humans and thought it very good.

Good news: God is not finite.

God made you very good. He knows you. He sees all the reflections of himself in you, and he wants you to shine. And he has the capacity to do this with everyone, all at once.

Our human necessity of loving in spite of not liking can taint our picture of God. It can make us feel God loves us only because he has to, with no sense that he actually likes us. That’s not a recipe for a healthy relationship, is it? Do you want to take all your problems and sins and praises to someone who only puts up with you because they’re supposed to? What about, instead, someone who really thinks you’re great? Who likes your smile and they way you get excited about your favorite kind of weather, who likes to hear about your thoughts and ideas, who likes to see you happy because, well, it means you’re happy, who just likes you?

Sin, of course, also taints things. God hates sin. Ignoring that does no one any favors. But if all we ever tell people is that they’re a sinner and God hates sin, the logical conclusion is, “God must not like me. He just loves me because he has to.” And we’ve come right back around to the problem.

(For more on this topic without me inundating you with excessively long quotes, I highly recommend chapter 2 of You’re Only Human: How Your Limits Reflect God’s Design and Why That’s Good News by Kelly M. Kapic. Here are a couple relevant paragraphs:
“Have you ever felt that your parents, or spouse, or your God loved you, and yet wondered if they actually liked you?…”
“While I understand where they come from, claims that God can’t stand to be in the presence of sin are fundamentally opposed to the gospel and the nature of God….”)

A few years ago, I sat uncomfortably while a full church auditorium laughed at a preacher joking about how sometimes he doesn’t like his child even though he loves her. As an adult, I understand that he meant sometimes his child is frustrating and disobedient and he doesn’t like those things. As a child, if I’d heard one of my parents tell a roomful of strangers they didn’t like me sometimes, I’d have been devastated and horribly embarrassed, and I might not be over it to this day. Disliking the problematic things someone does and disliking them personally are not the same, and it takes maturity to separate the concepts.

How on earth do we expect our children to grow up with a secure relationship with God if we think it’s funny to inject insecurity into what’s supposed to be the safest, securest relationship in their earthly life right now? If I’d had children of my own in that room, we would be having a conversation about how sometimes Mommy doesn’t like their actions and choices, but they never ever need to worry that Mommy doesn’t like them. Mommy doesn’t just love them because she has to; she likes them very much.

For the record, I talked to that preacher, and he graciously agreed to think about what I said. I can’t do that with every single person who laughed. But what I can do is tell you, you, whoever you are, reading this right now:

God doesn’t just love you because he has to. He likes you very much.

(Quoted or referenced: John 3:16; 1 Timothy 2:4; Genesis 1:31)

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