“The madman jumped into their midst and pierced them with his eyes. ‘Whither is God,’ he cried; ‘I will tell you. We have killed him—you and I! All of us are his murderers…Do we not feel the breath of empty space? Has it not become colder?…Do we smell nothing as yet of the divine decomposition? Gods, too, decompose. God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him.’” Friedrich Nietzsche, The Gay Science
March_3_1980 is the day I murdered God, the day I believed he murdered my dad. It was the worst/best day of my life.
Clearly, I didn’t actually murder God. And he didn’t actually murder my dad. But in order for me to meet the real, actual One true God, my very small idea of him had to die. The god I believed in in 1980 was far too small to be the one who knew me before I was born. That god couldn’t save my dad or kill my dad because he wasn’t real. I’m glad that god died. His death meant I could meet the One true God 26 years later.
26 years may seem like a really long time to you, but I can say now, 10 years into knowing him, it was worth it. Every single event. Every single trial. Every single heartache. That road through the wilderness led me to to the cross.
I am so thankful.