My oldest daughter Kori feels comfortable talking to me about everything…everything. It’s something that I unequivocally cherish.

Lately, believe it or not, we’ve been discussing theology. Not in the traditional seminary sense, but rather in the “I-have-a million-questions-about-God-and-stuff, and-I’m-going-to-throw-them-at-you-all-at-once” sense.

Behold…a sampling of the deeply theological and highly spiritual questions from the astute mind of my babygirl:

  • If God knows everything we’re going to do before we do it, isn’t life sort of like a reality show?
  • Will you and Mom still be married in heaven?
  • Will we be bowing our heads up and down the whole time we’re there?
  • On the new Earth, will I be able to run track again?
  • Will I still have to get my nails done, or will they just stay unbroken?
  • Will I still be able to dress cute?
  • Will we still have to use the bathroom?

Sola deo gloria, baby…sola deo gloria.

As irreverent as our “theological” discussion may sound to some, for me it was a breath of fresh air. I’m a huge proponent of sound theology, but being theologically sound doesn’t mean that you have to be imaginatively bankrupt.

I don’t believe that God sits in heaven frowning at us when we use our imaginations as a part of how we frame our theology. He gave us imagination for a reason, after all. To think of God (like many people unfortunately do) as some angry, stiff, uptight, boring old schoolteacher does a great injustice to the God who is actually depicted in the Bible.

So…I’m looking forward to the next “theological” discourse with my daughter. Should be interesting.

“Come with me
And you’ll be
In a world of pure imagination…”