Is God a Micromanager?

Are we God's servants or his friends?

Photo by Glenn Carstens-Peters on Unsplash

(A seven-minute read)

Knee deep in research last week, I came across an 1892 article in the Advent Review and Sabbath Herald, which was and is the flagship journal of my denomination (now called Adventist Review), that caught my eye. It was reprinted from what was likely a journal produced by the Disciples of Christ and entitled, “As the Lord Commanded.”

“In the 39th chapter of Exodus,” the article began, “there is a noteworthy form of expression. Holy garments were made for Aaron, ‘as the Lord commanded Moses.’” The rest of the paragraph went on to point out how these careful instructions relating to the dress of the High Priest in ancient Israel repeated the line, “as the Lord commanded Moses.” His girdle had to have specific colors; his breast plate had to have particular stones; his crown needed precise verbiage—just “as the Lord commanded Moses.”

Reflecting on this reality, the anonymous author proposed that “the only worship which is really acceptable in the sight of God, is that worship concerning which can be said at every point, ‘As the Lord commanded.’” Indeed,

if the Lord was so careful about obedience to his commands; if he would not allow even the tent of meeting in the wilderness to be built; except it was in all its measurements and details constructed according to a heavenly pattern; if the camp of Israel was subject to the most stringent laws and the minutest instructions, can we doubt that the Lord has a wish and will concerning us, and concerning our service which we perform in his name? Surely it is not a light thing to introduce into the Lord’s house, ordinances, forms, ceremonies, names, creeds, and tests, without his authority. If we invent to ourselves forms and ceremonies which he has never prescribed, we are seeking to do our own will or the will of men rather than the will of God.

“Our business here,” the writer concluded, “is not to choose our own ways, consult our wishes, or select our pleasures, nor to adopt such forms and methods and ordinances as we please, but simply to please the Lord, and finish the work which he has given us to do.”

As I said, as best as I can tell, the article was reprinted from a journal produced by the Disciples of Christ who, along with the modern Churches of Christ (which separated from the Disciples of Christ), practiced what is commonly known as the “regulative principle,” which essentially maintains that in the corporate worship of God, a church can only incorporate elements that are explicitly affirmed in the New Testament. They thus don’t use instrumentation for worship, for example, since the New Testament nowhere explicitly mentions the use of such.

Aside from the interpretive questions that arise from such a perspective, and never mind the question as to why a Seventh-day Adventist publication felt this article added any wind to its sails (my hunch is that they felt this article bolstered their argument that Christians had to still keep the seventh-day Sabbath, as the Lord explicitly commanded), such an approach to the Bible—indeed, to God—leaves me wondering: is God a micromanager?

Friends, not servants

Though the topic may not be all that compelling to some people, the article intersects with my own wrestling I’ve been doing lately about how I understand God and the ways in which God relates to humankind. Though no one would ever put it in this language, I’ve been noticing lately that there are many people who view God as this sort of Divine Micromanager—that God wants to rule and regulate and explicitly spell out as many details for our lives as possible.

Our task, then, out of love and appreciation for God, is to scour the Bible for every little command and instruction, and implement these into our lives. This is the way we please him, after all—by living according to his commands.

Within my particular faith community, there is even an extra level of instructions, provided to us by a contemporary voice who, under the inspiration of God, applies the Biblical commands and principles to the modern context. Thus, from these sources of information, we are left with the impression that God wants to regulate what we wear, eat, watch, listen to, read, do or don’t do on his holy days—among hundreds, if not thousands, of other things. But we happily and eagerly follow these instructions because, after all, God, in his infinite wisdom, knows best anyway.

I must candidly admit that I’ve been less and less inclined to such a view of God lately. And I’ve been less and less inclined to take a rules-centric approach to the Bible as well.

Am I saying I don’t believe it was really God speaking in Exodus 39, when Moses was given those meticulous instructions about how to put the sanctuary together? Not at all.

But this is how I understand it: the more emotionally, intellectually, and spiritually immature we are, the more we need things explicitly spelled out for us. This is just human development 101.

The example I like to often give is of my children with the street that sits just 15 feet outside our front door. We have a very vested interest in making sure they don’t get hit by any cars that whiz by on that street.

My nearly-13-year-old son gets that. My 11-year-old daughter gets it as well. As does my 8-year-old daughter. They are at an age where they can, for the most part, discern when it is safe to cross the street or retrieve a ball that has rolled out there. They know to look both ways before they cross—and to determine if that car at the far end of the street is or isn’t going at a speed that will reach them before they can reach the ball that is sitting in the middle of the road.

But they didn’t get it when they were three years old. Their brains simply weren’t developed enough to make any discerning judgments about the safety of crossing the street.

And so what did we have to tell them at three? “Never, ever, ever go out onto the street!” Them being obedient and faithful to such a command was a matter of survival.

In fact, so immature was their intellect at that age that we couldn’t even let them out of the house by themselves when they were three, fearing that allowing them to be outside by themselves would lead them to wander out onto the street (besides there being other reasons why we wouldn’t let them outside by themselves at that age). Now, of course, they can be outside by themselves, and there is no rule prohibiting it, because we don’t really have any fear that they will wander onto the street when it is dangerous to do so.

You get the point, I trust.

The same applies, I do believe, to spirituality. The more spiritually immature we are, the more we need things spelled out. And the more rules we need just to hedge our bets and keep us safe.

To be clear: I believe there are commands in Scripture that are non-negotiable—that always apply to wherever humans are in the stages of development. It is never OK to murder or commit adultery, for example.

But I also believe that it has never been God’s desire to micromanage our lives—to tell us what to do in every single instance in life.

This means, I’d submit, that there are, in fact, some things God commanded his people to do at one point that no longer apply to us because we have collectively matured to the point that we no longer need those extra layers of protection to keep us safe (the apostle Paul called those commands a “schoolmaster” or “tutor,” which kept Israel safe—but which were no longer necessary now that Christ had come and demonstrated the reality and principles of love), much like I don’t need a rule anymore that my kids can’t go outside by themselves out of fear that they might wander onto the street and get hit by a car.

Indeed, I believe God would prefer just to tell us to love one another and trust that as we come to understand his character better, we will discerningly apply his principles of love to our lives in ways that are mutually life-giving and edifying.

I don’t believe God is looking to produce robots—or even three-year-olds—who can’t figure out what to do apart from hearing him give explicit instructions. He’s looking for partners who mature to the point of having his law written on their hearts (as the prophet Jeremiah described—which shows that this distinction is not a Jewish/Christian binary), able to be vice-regents with him. In John 15 Jesus said that his followers were not his servants but his friends. In Revelation 3, John quotes Jesus as saying that his followers would even rule with him on his throne—which sounds more like an equal partnership than a micromanager/subservient relationship.

This also transforms the way I read Scripture: I read it as a story about a God who loves and is inviting me into that story of love. I don’t primarily read it as a rulebook that I’m scouring to figure out the minuscule commands that he controllingly wants me to adhere to. Yes, there are rules and commands that are ultimately for my and humanity’s benefit. But those aren’t the point of the whole project, and I just don’t indiscriminately apply them to my life.

A lot could—and perhaps will in the future—be said about this topic, as what I’ve shared probably raises a lot of practical questions. But the bottom line for me is this: no, I don’t believe God is a micromanager.

Sometimes, because of our immaturity, he has to be very explicit with us as a way to protect us—even creating some rules that not only keep us off the street, but 100 feet away from it in order to keep us extra safe. But he ultimately wants to experience a partnership with us, as we live lives of mutual love for him and for others.

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Just a note: due to family vacation, I will take a week off next week. But look for my next post in your inbox in two weeks, God willing!

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Shawn is a pastor in Maine, whose life, ministry, and writing focus on incarnational expressions of faith. The author of four books and a columnist for Adventist Review, he is also a DPhil student at the University of Oxford (what they call a PhD), focusing on nineteenth-century American Christianity. You can follow him on Instagram and Twitter, and listen to his podcast Mission Lab.