Three Characteristics of a Fake God

“At your right hand are pleasures forevermore.”

Full disclosure: I am not a connoisseur or critic. I have no culinary credentials. When Melissa is out of town, I am not above a Big Mac, large fry and a 4-pack of nuggies with hot mustard sauce. Epicurean I am not, but I know what I like when it hits my tongue.

What I like:
Handcut noodles flecked with mahala peppers and chili crisp at Chong Qing Special Noodles. Slurping savory broth and tender beef at PP Pop. The green curry at Purple Thai generously pooled with creamy, light coconut—spiced gently with something like a salty warm breeze off Kho Samui. The garlic sauced Hainan chicken at Savoy Kitchen and rice perfectly finished in crackling fat off the spit. Marinated pork belly Báhn Mi & Chè Cali’s pillowy French baguette, better than the French version. Fresh, raw salmon tasting like buttered mignon, draped over crunchy rice courtesy of Sushi Gen. Faintly sweet bulgogi bits with slightly charcoaled edges, hand-turned at Soh.

Maybe it doesn’t take an advanced degree for me to understand what is pleasurable. So good. Who doesn’t like pleasure? We know how to chase something that tastes good, don’t we? Do we?

Psalm 16 uses that same imagery to describe how we chase down the things that we think will make us safe, secure, valuable, worthwhile, satisfied. Ultimate things. We pursue them. We hunt them. We chase after anything that promises to deliver a kind of pleasure. A fortified immune system derisked from cancer, microplastics. An equipped child capable of gainfully entering the modern workforce with high wage-earning potential. A forever domicile with a mode of bespoke transportation that hopefully exudes our panache, achievements, and personality.

Psalm 16 calls them gods—a lil’ puny rancid, rotting things compared to the pleasurable, tasty One.

I was struck by three characteristics of a god in Psalm 16: we chase them, they multiply our problems, and they enjoy broad, conventional endorsement (a.k.a. almost everybody agrees that they are great, powerful).

You’ll know it’s a fake god if you have to chase it down.
“Troubles multiply for those who chase after other gods.” (Psalm 16:4, NLT)
The true God chases. The true God had to come to us. To Adam. To Abraham. To Jacob. To Sinai. To Bethlehem. There is no catching the true God. He will catch you. Any god that demands you run yourself ragged in pursuit, will turn out to be a plastic carrot dangled over your nose from an ad agency or a spiritual charlatan using the same filters in Photoshop. I think of C.S. Lewis here: “People who are naturally religious find difficulty in understanding the horror of such a revelation. Amiable agnostics will talk cheerfully about ‘man’s search for God.’ To me, as I then was, they might as well have talked about the mouse’s search for the cat.” (Surprised by Joy) If you are tired by all your god-chasing, it’s a great sign that you’re being stalked by the real One.

You’ll know it’s a fake god when your solutions create bigger problems.
“Troubles multiply for those who chase after other gods.” (Psalm 16:4, NLT)
Let’s say you chase down a god like Control (being Master of your own universe)—anxiously awake, turning all the variables over in your mind—scripting the perfect move, email, conversation, reply, and defensive strategy. You’ll know your god is fake when your solutions breed new problems—but now, deeper, more entrenched, thornier, more tangled—so impossibly wrecked that abandonment presents itself as a healthy, viable plan. And the new problems may require a different set of gods. Dr. Jean Calvin understood that we can’t stop manufacturing new fake gods for the multiplying of troubles: “The human heart is manufactory of idols.” You’ll know it’s the real God when, events and people—un-orchestrated by you, turn to renewal—unbidden, unmanipulated, un-coerced or guilted through duty, obligation, or peer approval. You’ll know it’s the real God when forgiveness that would normally be dry, pitiless, exacting, conditional, grudging, blooms like a field of Golden Poppies after an atmospheric river rehydrates Central California. Pleasantness unattributed to your performance or the performance of other people will feel like it came from out of nowhere. That’s the grace of the Real God, Chaser.

You’ll know it’s a fake god when the pack around you chases it with fervor.
“I will not take part in their sacrifices of blood or even speak the names of their gods.” (Psalm 16:4, NLT)
David knows that the predominant culture and conventional wisdom will appeal to fake gods for success, security, fortune, meaning. Of course, our modern world doesn’t have Asherah poles, Baal altars, or Dagon emblazoned everywhere, but modernity has its own pantheon of fake gods that promise you security and fortune: Education, Unbroken Busyness, Productivity, Accumulation. How different are your pursuits and schedule from your neighbor’s? Wouldn’t it be sadly strange if your Amazon order histories were similar?  Wouldn’t your money, time, and energies be channeled differently? You’ll be able to recognize the Real God’s tell-tale traits of Wisdom, Rest, Fruitfulness, and Generosity. Those qualities are in short supply among those running themselves to death.

It’s interesting and perhaps, counter-intuitive, that Psalm 16 (David) does not equate pleasure with idolatry or false-god-ness. The pleasure is all His. Pleasure is God’s domain. That’s His person, His presence. His designs and goodness spin out pleasure. Read through Psalm 16 and take note of pleasure-like descriptions.

Maybe we don’t know how to chase down pleasure. The Pleasure chases. Remember?

“It would seem that Our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.” (C.S. Lewis, “The Weight of Glory”)

The greatest gift of the desert is that I am finding that I didn’t know pleasure. Not real pleasure. I didn’t really know the One Who pleases even if the grill is cold, the fridge is empty, and the presented fare is a singular unsalted Saltine cracker. That’s a pleasure unmatched. You could have that pleasure in circumstances that are so very not pleasurable?! Wouldn’t that be something?! In a prison?! In a desert?! In tragedy?! In disease?! In disablement?! In a failed marriage, business, friendship?! In discarded-ness?! Every good thing comes from Him. The Real Pleasure. Give me this pleasure, O Lord. Give me You.

by Tim Lien