God Doesn’t Care About Your Sex Life

Mark Morford (right) in the SF Gate comments on SC Governor Mark Sanford’s belief that God will make him a more effective leader.

You know what God loves? Meddling. Meddling and poking and adjusting and maybe, just maybe, forgiving. Sometimes.

OK wait. What God really loves is meddling and poking and maybe forgiving, and also psychoanalyzing and scrutinizing and prying, gossiping and complaining and moderating, sighing and punishing and condemning, all while He shakes His big, shaggy head in your general direction at your various petty sins and misbehaviors every single day regarding pretty much every single thought you have.

God the micromanager:

God is essentially the most obsessed, niggling micromanager of all time. He is all about being hugely, nay downright obscenely interested in the trivial minutiae of modern life, from the food eaten on a particular day to the touchdown made during the Big Game to the brand of TV you watch it on, right on over to what book you’re reading and where you live and if you have the right guns and foreign policy and facial hair, and of course whether or not you judge gay people and demean women and nonbelievers in just the right way.

Because only then, when all preposterous criteria are met, might God absolve you, or lead you toward happiness, or grant success to your new laundromat, or forgive you your trespasses and your recreational drug use and your pornographic thoughts about your massage therapist, or even how many soft, cooing sounds you made over the body of a sexy Argenitine female. Isn’t that right, Gov. Sanford?

So who is God? Universal love and light? A great energy force that exists in all of us?

God is, apparently, actually far more like some sort of heavyset, hectoring grandmother who reads your email and pokes through your underwear drawer and hates your girlfriend and is, for the most part, very, very disappointed in you. Great!

So what’s the problem with the Mark Sanford view?

Because really, we do the divine no favors by making it our bitch. We only keep God in this little box, taking him out when it suits us, our political goals or our need for redemption and meaning, and to assuage our ego’s trembling fears. You know, like a psychotherapist. Like a crutch. Like an excuse. Like a vibrator. Like milk. Like a gemstone. Like a flowerpot. Like a drug. Like a gun.

By: Alan

Alan Colmes is the publisher of Liberaland.