How We Treat Our Savior More Like Google Than God

I don’t want your sacrifices—I want your love; I don’t want your offerings—I want you to know me. Hosea 6:6

How We Want Our Savior to Be More Like Google Than God

My 25-year-old son called me yesterday. It’s not very often.

“Mom, for college graduation you mentioned either buying me a new computer or taking me on a trip.

I don’t want you to think the only reason I’m calling is to ask for something, but I decided. My old computer isn’t going to cut it in my new job.”

I don’t mind buying it. After all, he worked six long years for that four-year degree. All I want in exchange is a real relationship with him.

After loving on my three kids with bedtime prayers and butterfly kisses all their lives, I wanted to keep close with them when they left for college. 

But then Independence reigned and Sororities ruled, and I was at the bottom of their priorities.

I had to have many talks with them about maintaining a relationship with me. If they ignored my texts or “forgot” to return my calls, there was a pretty good chance I wouldn’t answer their questions about laundry instructions or resume writing.

It made me think about my prayer life. Do I treat my Savior more like Google than God?

When my kids only reached out to me for loans or for my editing skills, it hurt. 

I wonder if that’s how God feels. 

When God created Adam and Eve, he delighted in walking with them in the garden every evening. He loved spending time with his special creation, shaped in His image, molded by His own hand.

He still does. 

I longed to help my kids with their college transition, but when they ignored me, I backed off. I let them be. I think God does too. 

God wants to cure us of our desperate attempts to control our circumstances. He wants to reverse our tendency to slide down the rabbit hole of comparison. And He wants to be the balm for our burnout.

But He doesn’t want to be relegated to a Google status in which he simply gives us answers for our problems. 

He waits for us to come and abide, confessing we can’t do life on our own. He waits for our humble searching—not for resolutions, but for relationship.

Jesus’ Message:

When you come to Me, I already know all your questions. 

You want Me to be a resource. 

But I want relationship. I want you to sit with Me and listen to my love’s heart-whisper. Your soul grows more agitated the longer you go without being still and acknowledging my presence.

You are too concerned about answers. Instead of your useless rushing, sit at my feet awhile and ponder My extravagant love and how I have held you in My hand your whole life.

I have loved you, borne your burdens, and lifted you from your trenches more than once. But often your only attempt at relationship with Me is your distracted meditation during the pastor’s prayer on Sundays.

You wait on answers, but I am waiting on you. I want you to know My heart. I wish to love away your bonds of regret and unworthiness. I long to remind you that you are precious and loved, despite your slip ups and your breakdowns.

When you feel unappreciated or struggle with fears of “it will always be this way,” look up, child, because I rejoice over you with Hope.  

When the weight of life is too hard to bear, come. Abide with me. Lean into Me and know Me. 

There you will find your answers.