If you look at a tree, standing straight and tall, through the wrong kind of lens, you’ll see it crooked. And you can see God crooked, but the crookedness is in your eye, not in God.

For instance, if we make our God to be all justice, then we have a god of terror and we flee from him in fright. There was a time when the Church swung over to hell, judgment, sin and all that. We rather tremble when we think of how the Church went through this period, when about all she talked about was the justice of God.

God was looked upon as a tyrant and the universe as a kind of totalitarian state, with God at the top, ruling with a rod of iron. If we think only of the justice of God, that’s the concept we’ll have.

Then over on the other side, as a reaction from that, came the time when we only thought about God as being love. “God is love” (1 John 4:16) is our main text now. We no longer have a god of terror, but a sentimental, spineless god—the god of the Christian Scientist.

God is love and love is god and all is love and all is god and god is all. Pretty soon we haven’t got a thing left. It’s like the cotton candy that you buy at the circus—all you have is sweetness and nothing but sweetness. We’ve magnified the love of God without remembering that God is just.

A. W. Tozer and David E. Fessenden, The Attributes of God: Deeper into the Father’s Heart, vol. 2 (Camp Hill, PA: WingSpread, 2001–), 166.

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