God Of the Bible Behaving Badly: Part VI
Maybe the Problem Was Never God — Just the Version We Were Sold
We’ve spent five chapters walking through a divine hall of horrors.
We’ve seen a God who demands human sacrifice, drowns the world in wrath, condemns souls to eternal torture, commands ethnic cleansing, and silences anyone who dares to ask, “Why?”
That God from the Bible behaves more like a narcissistic tyrant than a loving Creator.
And if that’s the God we’re expected to worship — one who tests us, kills us, punishes us forever for getting the answers wrong — then maybe disbelief isn’t rebellion. Maybe it’s sanity.
But what if the problem isn’t God?
What if the problem is the version of God we were sold?
What if that angry, tribal deity who needed blood to feel respected was never real to begin with?
That’s where A Course in Miracles (ACIM or the Course) enters — not with thunder, but with quiet.
No demands. No punishments. Just this:
“God is not fear, but Love.”
(ACIM, T-18.I.8:1)
It’s the kind of line that makes you stop and ask, What if that’s true?
What if God doesn’t judge, doesn’t condemn, and doesn’t need us to prove anything?
What if God doesn’t forgive because He never condemned us to begin with?
That’s what A Course in Miracles teaches: not a God who keeps score, but a God who only sees you as you were created — whole, loving, and guiltless.
The biblical God saw sin everywhere. The God of the Course sees only a mistake in perception.
The first says, “Worship Me or burn.”
The other says, “You never left Me. You just forgot.”
One punishes disobedience. The other gently corrects confusion.
One needs you to be afraid.
The other says:
“Perfect love casts out fear. If fear exists, then there is not perfect love.”
(ACIM, T-1.VI.5:4–5)
God Of The Bible Behaving Badly was never really about mocking religion. It was about asking: How did we get from “love your neighbor” to genocide and lightning bolts?
The answer might be this: we projected our own guilt, fear, and anger onto God — and then built a theology around it.
The Course doesn’t tell you what to believe. It invites you to unlearn everything built on fear.
It doesn’t yell. It doesn’t threaten. It doesn’t punish.
It whispers:
“Nothing real can be threatened. Nothing unreal exists. Herein lies the peace of God.”
(ACIM, T-in.2:2–4)
That may not satisfy the part of us that wants clear rules, or revenge, or reward.
But it does offer peace. Not the peace of blind submission — but the kind that comes from realizing:
Maybe God was never the problem.
Maybe we just made Him in our own angry image.
And maybe — just maybe — it’s time to let that version go.
