"GOD IS A HAPPY GOD" by Bo Sanchez

Let me describe to you a hard-headed, stubborn-viewed, narrow-minded, obstinate-thinking, stiff-necked man.

Two guys bump onto each other on the street.

And one says, “Tom? Wow, Tom! My, you’ve changed! You were so stout before, and now, you’re soooooo thin! And you used to be short, but now you’re incredibly tall. And my goodness, you were so fair-skinned before, but you’re dark now! And your clothes! You’ve changed your style! You’ve changed soooooo much!”

The other guy says, “Uh, I’m sorry sir, but I’m not Tom. My name is James.”

“Gosh!” exclaimed the first man, “You funny boy! You’ve even changed your name!”

There are creatures like that in the world today. About 99.99% of the earth’s population, I think.

They’ll insist on what they think, perceive, and feel—no matter what reality is screaming at them.

Another example: Like I always believed I was ugly. But all the girls around me keep telling me I’m kinda good-lookin’. So what do you think should I do? Be stubborn or open to the truth?

Some may not like that example very much, so I’m giving you another one.

Every time I see a gorgeous sunrise, or play with a baby, or hear glorious music, or stand on top of a mountain, or run on the beach, or catch a child smile at me—I automatically think that perhaps God must be having fun at that particular moment.

I think: God must be a happy God! Laughing and having a grand time when He’s creating and recreating stuff.

Or why would He make those lovely things?

That’s reality. It screams the truth to me!
"Uh, I’m sorry, but I’m not Tom. My name is James.”

But you think I’d still believe the truth the next day?
“Gosh, you funny boy! You’ve even changed your name!”

For when I start my routine of the day, I immediately forget all about my great discovery. In the monotony of my existence, I revert back to my programmed idea of who God is, the image I carried in my brain since I was a scared child spanked by my religion teacher, scolded by a parish priest, and severely warned to be silent in church by my parents: Gray throne, long beard, long face, angry eyes.

Suddenly, I’m uneasy with Him. Because He’s too serious. If I really want to have fun, I’d do it when He’s not watching.Too bad. ‘Cuz He wants to have fun with me.

I wonder. When will I ever get real?

Please heal my stiff neck, Lord.


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