We are finite and embodied beings. There seems to be something in built into us in our finitude that cannot resist the use of metaphors to describe God. In every moment we speak or think of God, we desire to make God, the object of all our infinite longing, appear before us. One of the great tragedies of our existence is that we cannot do this; we cannot summon God. Not amount of wishing and hoping makes the lover magically appear.

Just like everyone else, I have metaphors for God. They are currently undergoing some changes, and I think this is for the best. As a Christian, I have lived my life adopting Jesus' metaphor for God, God as Father. Truly, God is my Father. But God's infinite and mysterious depth opens up possibilities for us as human beings to employ a wide range of metaphors. Some think of God as healer, as warrior, as protector, as husband. Father seems to be the most predominant among Christian circles.

But I have something to confess. The pains of my childhood, my adolescence, and my adulthood all bear scars inflicted upon me by my father, Glenn. The pain runs too deep, and the loss is real. The metaphor of God as Father is broken for me, and it holds no power. It incites images of a God who is small in his pettiness, judgmental, aloof, sparing in his love. I have struggled all my life to realize God's love for me, to know it in my soul that I am loved by God. God as Lord and Father has never been able to do this for me. But God as Lady and Lover has.

Recent events made it clear to me that one of the underlying sins of my life has been idolatry. For reasons that remain elusive to me, yet which seem to be rooted in a deep and burning desire placed in me by God, the prospect of a loving, romantic relationship has been the object of my desire. But as I am learning, a romantic relationship cannot bear the weight of being the ultimate in my life. It cannot withstand the intense pressures of being my all in all. No human being, however wonderful and God-sent, can be the ultimate in my life. That position, by virtue of the ontological structures in place that govern and facilitate my being, is reserved for God alone. I was made to love and be loved by God. The taint of God as Father has kept me from accepting God as the ultimate.

I've come to learn in explosions of passion and tears that God is not merely an abstraction or an impersonal force; God is infinitely beyond either of these things. And yet, God has chosen to give of the divine self, to give it freely to me, out of love. That love is not mere affection. It is not paternal or even maternal. It is deeper than that. It is axiomatic, fundamental, burning with primordial fire. The desire for love placed in my heart, which throughout my life has threatened to become the object of my inordinate passion to disastrous effect, this desire was God breathed; it was placed in me to give me a sense of who God is, who God has revealed herself to me. God is the Lady that has lurked behind every dream and yearning thought. God's love for me is romantic, fiercely so. It took me many years of reflection and struggle to admit this. And in my admission, I have learned the truth, and it is in the process of setting me free. I am at last free to love God as I ought to, however imperfectly.

I cannot impress upon you the depth and ferocity of this love God has for me. She desires me intensely. Within the realm of my own narrow sliver of being, she wants me above all else. I am desired by God. But as she has revealed herself, she is also tender. She is no brusque Amazonian. She is graceful and brimming with power, and in all things, she is queen. But there is also tenderness in her gestures. She has given herself to me, tremulously and anxiously.

Words fail to convey what I mean, but my time wasted in online dating affords me a useful analogy. I am usually not inclined to take the initial step in contacting someone. I have in the past, but I always desire to have some assurance that there is no risk of rejection, some assurance that the person in question will be interested to speak to me. God has taken that first step, prompting me, giving me glimpses of herself that provide me every assurance that she longs for me as much as I long for her. She draws me in, waiting for me to say those precious words that will break boundaries and open up my being to endless possibilities of joy. I say hello, having contemplated long and hard what I ought to say, how I ought to regard her, how I ought to behave, how I will proceed. I am currently in the process of correspondence with God. We are trading letters, getting to know one another in light of this blossoming relationship. All I have to work with is her profile, which was written for me in her words. Her images, though still and lifeless, are enough to set my heart ablaze. The mere thought of her makes my eyes wet. Every day is spent in ceaseless pacing before my computer, waiting for her reply. Every faculty of my thought is bent towards deciphering the wit and elegance of her every word. As time goes on, our designs for each other mesh and merge. She wants to see me. She says there will be a time and a place, but she playfully deigns to keep me in the dark. She assures me that the day will come, and sooner than I think. She says she can't wait to see me in person. She wants me all to herself.

Do you see now? My whole mortal life, so long as I live, will play out in the span of time between the moment I saw her profile and the moment I see her face to face. There is veil between she and I, but it will be lifted. One day I will take my Lady's hand, and I will at last give in to every passionate thought and impulse, taking her as she gives herself. We will walk together forever. My loves and desires for relationship will at last be ordinate and not inordinate. My Lady will give herself to me, and I will take her, as I was always meant to. There is no fear in love; humanity and divinity are meant for one another. I will at last know perfect union. The two, while remaining themselves, shall paradoxically become one.

I am aware that this metaphor for God, however helpful to me, is in many ways untenable. As an embodied being with loves and desires, God cannot be the object of my desire. I cannot hold her hand before the time of our first date. I must live as I can for the moment. In all things, I must be true to my Lady, observing her wishes and doing as she asks, never failing to reply to her when she sends me a message.

It's all so imperfect. Even this metaphor falls short. But I at last know that God is a person and that God desires me with all the passion of infinity, more than I could ever know.