Inspired by Bedding

"God said to Moses, “I am who I am. This is what you are to say to the Israelites: ‘I am has sent me to you.’" - Exodus 3:14 

I sat on one of the two twin beds in the room, listening intently as the four or five other guys around me begin describing and answering the question that was proposed to all of us. "Who do you say God is?"

To me, Exodus 3:14 is a verse that never leaves my mind. A name that is worth 1,000 words, yet still wouldn't be enough-- perhaps a million? Yet, there they stand, paired together like two birds. You know, they say that hope is a thing with feathers.

Only two words, "I AM", to describe the greatness of God. They do it well.

The guys around me continue answering, using more than two words. One at a time, they keep on going, doing their best to describe what they find fit for this God of the universe.

My mind wanders, not out of boredom, but simply out of awe of it all. Who is God to me? Previously, words such as "mentor", "teacher", and "friend" were good enough for me, but not today. My mind kept on going, racing and racing, trying to find the right word to use, maybe even two. I knew that I would be asked the same question that all the others were answering, but my mind is desolate, lost in thoughts far bigger than usual. Scanning through every bit of my brain, words such as "race-runner" come to mind. "Super-fan" pops up. "Challenger", not like the space shuttle. "Gas-station clerk", ready to fuel me up. None of these are good enough, not for the God of the universe.

"So Ari, who is God to you?"

Silence only seems evident.

Ten seconds pass by and my mind is still racing.

Twenty.

Thirty-- and then it hit me.

"God to me is that guy at hockey games who cleans the ice between periods."

"The Zamboni driver?" someone chimed in, their voice filled with doubt.

"Yeah, the Zamboni driver. Every single day, I step out on to that ice with the sharpest, or dullest, skates that there are. I try my best to not scratch up the ice, but you know exactly how impossible that is. And just when I can't skate any more and the ice is at it's worst... here he comes. With a smile on his face, happy that I was out on the ice at all, he cleans it. Again. Scratched up, messy, and what I would call failure, he cleans it up, makes it new, and assures me otherwise. God to me is the Zamboni driver."

I sit in silence again. Such a profound thought, sitting in that small room on that even smaller bed. The bedding smelled terrible. I don't know where that thought came from-- it must have been the bedding.

Who is God to me? He is a Zamboni driver. I think I'll name him Mark.