Is God Male or Female?

Let’s talk about God. Hollup! Do not turn your back on me. Don’t worry; I’m not here to impose my beliefs on you or pass judgment. I just want to know what goes on in your head when you think ‘God.’

Do you believe there’s a supernatural force that controls all things? Do you believe there’s a God? Who is God to you? I’ll start.

I do believe in God. Growing up, in Sunday school, I was taught that God made me in His image and likeness. I remember wondering and asking, “If God made me in His image and likeness, why do you address him as “he”? How could we all be made in the image and likeness of God and yet look so different?” It didn’t really make sense to me. And I never got any satisfactory response from the elders.

In fact, I had a lot of questions that never got answers. Like where did this almighty God come from, and who made or gave birth to him? If he created the world, then where exactly was he before creation?

Trying to get answers to these questions felt like getting lost in a maze. Even now, my head got cloudy asking those questions. So, I decided to leave it all as a mystery.

I think the mystery of God is what makes him intriguing. I wanted God to be a “woman” cos why not? I was a girl, to become a woman. I was made in his image, meaning he’s supposed to look just like me. So yes, I thought it was unfair that this almighty was assigned ‘he.’ Anyway, I got used to it. I eventually got to love the idea of God being male.

Why the change of heart? My mum used to say God is the father of the fatherless and the mother of the motherless, especially in her prayers. Being a fatherless child who lost her dad at six, I loved to hear that I could have a father in God. He stopped being the almighty to me. I started seeing him as my father instead. And I interact with him like I do with my mum.

I don’t see this God who is my father, but how I talk to him and make requests can be funny. I talk to him like he’s just somewhere around. I even make the faces I make when talking to my mum. I laugh when I have flashbacks. But I don’t tell him I’ll beat him, playfully, like I tell my mum cos I’d have to see him first. I can wake up in the morning, and my prayer on most days, before I get out of bed or while getting my day started, would be like this (in a mumble or silently):

“God/Almighty father/Daddy, thank you for this beautiful morning. Take care of today and continue to be a good and loving father.”

There are days I feel disappointed in him because he would fail his baby girl, despite knowing how important granting a particular wish was. Like when did I stop being your baby girl that you wouldn’t grant me this important wish when it is within your power? At times like this, my prayers can be hilarious. I really have a heart-to-heart talk with him and let him know I’m not happy with his action or inaction. I don’t talk to him like some distant person.

“See, God, I’ve come again o, since you refused to add the sense for Mathematics when you were making me, I must not fail this course o. You’ve seen all of my efforts, and the thing still does not want to enter. You better not disappoint me; just let me have a 40E. I don’t even want a ‘C.’ A ‘D’ or an ‘E’ is okay, just make sure it is not an F. And if you wish, you can give me an ‘A.’ I don’t know how that would happen; just do your thing and don’t let me fail,” is the kind of prayer I say when I’m pissed at God for my inability to excel at math without struggling.

Then when I feel remorseful, I’ll say something like, “Okay, God, I’m sorry for talking to you like that. I just really need to pass, and since I’ve done my best without making much progress, I’m leaving the rest to you. Don’t be angry; I’m no more mad at you too.” Lol!

As I write, I’m laughing like an idiot, remembering some daughter-father moments with God.
On some days, when I’m in awe of his goodness, I start to laugh, sing his praises, and sway to no rhythm in my excitement. Other times, I just shout, “Daddy! I love you! Thank you!” grinning from ear to ear.

There are times I cry out my eyes to him and let him know of all my worries. Just the way I call my mum at the slightest discomfort, for assurance, and to hear her call me her baby ( though now, I only call her when it’s a major, major problem).

Asking for help is always a struggle for me, unless I’m asking from my mom or God. Yes, that’s how I love this guy called God. He gives me butterflies in my belly, and I love him so so much—I’m not even going to lie, I love my mum more—and my love for him makes me not do certain things.

It doesn’t matter who or what the world says God is. I think he can be whoever you want him to be (just like I’ve assigned him male and made him my dad). Now, it’s your turn. Who is God to you? Before you answer that, do you believe there’s a God?