God's playthings

Nothing like 8 hours with a jackhammer to bring on new theological revelations. Mine went something like this:
1. God is perfect. Omnipotent. Can do anything he likes.
2. God created a perfect son. One perfect son. His only begotten.
3. He could have created more. He could have created all of us perfect. He didn't.
4. So he must want us to be imperfect. He must like our bumblings and strivings, our misfires and getting-back-ups.

Maybe we amuse him. Maybe we're just divine toys, those favourite dolls with the noses hugged off, divine veleteen rabbits. Too new and shiny and perfect and we'd just be boring.

Or maybe, just maybe, he's inspired by us bumblers. Thrilled as any parent with the first baby babble and toddling steps, scared and excited by our adolescence and growing up and moving on, curious about how we'll turn out, and somehow divinely trusting that we will in fact turn out ok.

Maybe god's just as scared and inspired and accepting and hanging-on-for-dear-afterlife as we all are with our kids. As dusk fell over the land and the jackhammer fell on my gumboot and i cursed his only begotten son with loud religious fervor, that thought was somehow comforting.