Leroy Bellamy's big God

Years ago, I met a woman who titled her years, depending on what she wanted to accomplish or see happen.

For example, one year might be “the year of overcoming,” or “the year of trusting.”

The one that caught my attention was the year she titled “Your God is too small.”

She said she had been talking to a friend about things she doubted would ever happen. When she was done listing all her doubts, her friend told her, “Your God is too small.”

The woman did believe God was and is the creator and sustainer of everything and that he could do anything. She didn’t doubt that he’s able, but she did doubt that he was willing to do the things she wanted to see happen.

Her friend told her that she made God small by believing he was too busy or unconcerned to care if her house sold or about her problems at work.

I’m guilty of seeing God that way, too.

For me, I make God small when I think a situation is beyond hope of ever changing or when I don’t trust him to care for the people I care about.

I’ll tell him, “You don’t love them more or better than I do” or, “If I don’t fix things when they’re broken, or at least give it my all trying, nothing will get fixed.”

I know none of that is true, but when I live like that’s what I believe, I make God small.

My God is tiny when I only expect the worst or am suspicious when good things happen.

I don’t trust peace. I’m always waiting for the ACME anvil to drop on my head.

Today I was thinking about some doom and gloomy stuff and my thoughts were interrupted by a memory of an old pastor in the community who spent years building a church.

He’d get a little money, buy some building material and do a little work on it until he ran out of money, and then he’d pray for more money.

I started writing about him in the paper, Rev. Leroy Bellamy.

One day I drove to his house and he met me in the street, hands in the air, thanking Jesus — loudly.

To this day, I’ve never had such an enthusiastic greeting.

He said, “I’ve been praying, ‘Lord, send me that lady from the newspaper’ — and here you are!”

I’m positive he never remembered my name, but he knew that whenever he asked God to send me to him so I could put in the paper that he needed money to build his church, that I would show up with my notepad and pen.

And every time I’d put in the paper that Leroy Bellamy needed money, people would send it to him.

He lived long enough to see it built, and on the day it was dedicated, that sweet, old pastor wore a white robe with gold trim and a huge smile.

His God was big.

As I thought about that today, I sensed God telling me that Leroy Bellamy’s big God is my big God, too.

I know that. I really do.

Does that mean I think God is saying he will give me anything I ask? No, of course not.

But maybe it means he’s trying to tell me that he’s a lot more willing than I think he is and that I need to be willing, a lot more willing, to ask instead of assuming his answer for me is no.