“John,” I said, “I don’t know what you’re like, but I know what I’m like. And I know what God is like—at least the God I say I believe in. That God is infinite; and He’s all-wise, so He knows everything about me. He’s all-good, too, and all righteous, and perfectly holy. And he commands me to be perfectly holy, too. Since He’s all-wise, he knows exactly when I’m not very holy or good, and He judges me based on what He knows. Oh, and He’s immutable, too, so He’ll never change. He’ll always be the way He is now; so He’ll always hold the same standards; and He’s always going to judge me by every idle word I utter.”
…I continued: “I have to admit, John, that that kind of God threatens my present state of existence and my lifestyle. If I were going to invent a god, I’d probably make one more congenial to my whims. And if I didn’t have the sense to invent him that way in the first place, I’d at least invent a god who could change his mind.”
My student John was surely wrong, but it was his boldness that helped me understand the profound logic of St. Paul’s argument. If human beings had really tried to invent a god, we would never have invented the God of Christianity.
—from Reasons to Believe: How to Understand, Explain, and Defend the Catholic Faith by Scott Hahn, Ch. 4: Right and Wrong