Many of us use the word “God” as a sacred poem. It expresses our reverence. We do not use that word to replace evolution as an explanation of human origins. We do not use that word to refer to an invisible person who stands as a surrogate to actual human beings. It does not make our decisions, it expresses our awe.

“God” is a symbol of whatever it is that patterns our world, understood emotionally. “God” is a symbol of whatever source we emerge out of. That is why we speak of it as our “parent.” When we say humans are created in the image of God, we do not mean that our source looks like us, for God is also the “parent” of every animal, plant and star. Our symbol has a human face only to remind us that we are the offspring of that fountainhead and so belong here in the universe.

“Love” is a word almost as inscrutable as the word “God.”  The word “love” is a symbol for that experience where we can feel our interconnectedness with another. We usually use the word “love” as a verb, and so when we say that God is a verb, we are delivered from our childish images of a large invisible human parent. When we say “God is love” we are no longer talking about a person, but instead about the personal nature of our relationships to all that is.

The word “love” is like the small lens in a telescope, the word “God” like the large.  Holding them together takes our personal affections and expands them to a sense of interconnectedness with all that is. Again, the words “God” and “love” are poems. And like all poems, they belong in the heart, not in the head.