Apologetics in the Lion City

Escaping the Modern Myths That Shrink Divine Involvement

He heard the sermon and felt a quiet sense of relief wash over him. The preacher’s voice was warm, steady, reassuring: “God wants you to flourish. He wants you to walk in blessing, in purpose, in the fullness of what He’s prepared.”

Every word felt right. It matched the God he carried in his mind — attentive, affirming, eager to bless. He left the sanctuary encouraged, even comforted, holding onto a picture of God that felt familiar and reassuring.

Many Christians have moments like this — moments when a message resonates because it fits the God they already imagine. These moments feel harmless, even holy. But over time, these resonances accumulate. They begin to shape our expectations of how God should act, how He should guide, how He should respond. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, our inner picture of God becomes less about who He is and more about what feels familiar or reassuring.

Scripture warns us about this subtle inward drift. “The heart is deceitful above all things,” Jeremiah writes, reminding us that our inner world can quietly reshape our view of God in ways we do not notice.

We don’t form our pictures of God in a vacuum. Long before we can articulate them, they’re shaped by the spiritual worlds we grow up in. They come from the sermons we heard as children, the prayers whispered by parents or grandparents, the tone of the churches we grew up in, and the spiritual atmosphere of the communities that formed us.

For many Christians, especially in earlier generations, faith was framed by a deep seriousness about holiness, obedience, and “getting God’s will right.” The Christian life was often described as a narrow path, a delicate balance, a series of choices that could either honor God or disappoint Him. Even when the teaching was sincere and well‑intentioned, it created a sense that God was closely monitoring every step — not out of cruelty, but out of concern.

This was the air many believers breathed. It felt normal. It felt faithful. It felt safe.

And because it felt so familiar, it became easy to imagine God as someone who hovered near, evaluating motives, guiding decisions, and expecting careful attention. Not because anyone set out to misrepresent God, but because this was the spiritual world they inherited.

With that background in view, it becomes easier to understand why so many Christians grew up with a picture of God that felt close — sometimes uncomfortably close.

🌿 A Familiar Picture: The Overbearing God

For many believers in previous generations, God was imagined as a strict supervisor — always watching, always evaluating, always ready to correct. This vision didn’t usually come from harsh preaching alone; it often grew out of sincere teaching about obedience, holiness, and “seeking God’s will.” But over time, God began to feel like someone who must be consulted for every decision, whose approval must be secured before taking a single step.

This creates a spiritual atmosphere thick with anxiety. A person may agonize over choices that are morally neutral, convinced that God has a single correct answer hidden somewhere like a test question. They may interpret ordinary setbacks as divine disapproval, or feel guilty for resting, enjoying life, or expressing their own desires. Even prayer becomes less a conversation and more a performance review.

What made this picture so compelling was the sense of safety it offered. If God controlled everything, then nothing truly unpredictable could happen — except the believer’s own failure to obey perfectly. And so the Christian became cautious, hesitant, and spiritually fragile, living as though God’s involvement was a form of surveillance rather than companionship.

This God was involved — but His involvement felt suffocating.

🌤️ A New Picture Emerges: The Indulgent God

As the concerns of one generation faded, the longings of another took center stage. The cultural landscape shifted, and with it the spiritual atmosphere many Christians grew up in. The language of faith became more therapeutic, more encouraging, more attuned to personal hopes and emotional well‑being. Churches emphasized God’s love, God’s nearness, God’s desire for our flourishing. Sermons spoke of purpose, calling, breakthrough, and blessing.

None of this was wrong. Much of it was deeply needed. But it created a different kind of expectation — one shaped less by fear of disappointing God and more by hope that God would make life work.

In this environment, it became natural to imagine God as someone who wanted to smooth the path ahead, open the right doors, and align circumstances with our desires. God felt close, but in a different way than before: not as a supervisor, but as a supporter. Not as someone scrutinizing our choices, but as someone eager to help us succeed.

This picture resonated because it matched the world around us. We live in a culture of personalization, convenience, and self‑expression. We are trained to expect quick responses, curated experiences, and solutions tailored to our preferences. Without realizing it, we begin to treat God the same way — as someone who should respond quickly, remove obstacles, and keep life aligned with our hopes.

Prayer becomes a request for alignment.
Discipleship becomes a path to fulfillment.
Suffering becomes a sign that something has gone wrong.

This God feels involved — but His involvement feels indulgent, almost like a parent who wants to protect us from every difficulty.

And just as the older picture offered safety, this newer picture offered comfort. It promised that God saw our desires, understood our struggles, and wanted to make our lives flourish. It felt warm, reassuring, and deeply personal.

But like the earlier picture, it could quietly shrink God to the size of our emotional needs.

🔍 The Deeper Insight: Two Pictures, One Problem

At first glance, these two pictures seem like opposites. One is strict; the other is soft. One restricts; the other indulges. One demands; the other affirms.

But beneath the surface, they share the same root.

Both imagine a God whose involvement is defined by my emotional needs rather than God’s character.

The older picture meets the need for safety, certainty, and moral clarity.
The newer picture meets the need for affirmation, autonomy, and personal fulfillment.

Different needs. Different expressions.
Same underlying dynamic.

A person raised in the older atmosphere might pray,
“Lord, I’m waiting for Your signal. I don’t want to move until You say so.”

A person shaped by the newer atmosphere might pray,
“Lord, I’m waiting for Your breakthrough. I don’t want to miss what You have for me.”

Different words. Same center of gravity.

In both cases, God becomes a projection of the self — a divine mirror reflecting our anxieties or our desires. God’s involvement becomes a tool for managing our inner world rather than a relationship that forms us for His world.

Moses prayed differently. “Show me now Your ways, that I may know You,” he said in Exodus 33:13. Not “show me the outcome,” not “show me the path,” but “show me Yourself.” That is the turning point.

📖 The Biblical Vision: God Who Forms, Not Controls or Indulges

Scripture offers a radically different picture of divine involvement — one that neither smothers nor spoils.

God is present, but not intrusive.
Generous, but not indulgent.
Guiding, but not overriding.
Loving, but not coddling.
Calling, but not coercing.

This is the God who walks with Adam in the garden, not as a supervisor but as a companion.
The God who invites Abraham into a journey without a map.
The God who wrestles with Jacob, not to dominate him but to transform him.
The God who leads Israel through wilderness, not around it.
The God who becomes flesh and dwells among us, not to grant wishes but to form disciples.

Across Scripture, God’s involvement consistently shapes His people rather than shielding them from difficulty.

And this is the God who prunes — not to punish, but to help us bear fruit. Jesus says, “Every branch that does bear fruit He prunes, that it may bear more fruit” (John 15:2). This is not indulgence. It is formation.

This God’s involvement is not about managing our emotional comfort.
It is about shaping our character, deepening our trust, and inviting us into His mission.

This is the God who makes us fully human.

🌱 A Call to Reimagine God’s Involvement

If we are honest, most of us have carried one of these pictures — sometimes both. We have feared disappointing God, or we have expected Him to fulfill our desires. We have asked Him to protect us from uncertainty, or to guarantee our happiness. We have wanted a God who manages our emotional world rather than a God who forms us for His.

But the God who reveals Himself in Scripture is far better than the God we invent. He is neither overbearing nor indulgent. He does not smother us with control or spoil us with affirmation. He walks with us, shapes us, challenges us, strengthens us, and invites us into a story far larger than our own comfort.

Paul captures this invitation with clarity: “Present your bodies as a living sacrifice… be transformed by the renewing of your mind” (Romans 12:1–2). This is not the language of indulgence or anxiety. It is the language of formation.

Learning to see God as He truly is takes time, patience, and grace — but it is the path to freedom.

To follow this God is to step into that freedom — not the freedom of self‑rule, but the freedom of being loved, known, and formed. It is to grow into people who can choose wisely, endure hardship, create boldly, repent honestly, and love deeply.

This is the invitation before us:
to release the God who mirrors our fears and desires,
and to embrace the God who makes us whole.

And perhaps, like the man who left the sanctuary comforted by a familiar picture of God, we may discover that the real God — the God who walks with us — has always been far larger, far wiser, and far nearer than the God we imagined.