God Immanent in Man - Paragraphs 5, 6 and 7

The Risk of God Within

In recent weeks we have been circling a quiet but demanding question: what does it mean to encounter God not “out there,” but within? We have been exploring presence, not as something we generate, but as something that finds us and asks to be received rather than managed.

Today, Roberts turns our attention to how this interior revelation has been understood across religious traditions, and in doing so, she names both its beauty and its danger.

Here is today’s text:

Religions Founded on this Revelation

“The revelation of God’s Immanence (within ourselves) is the key revelation of Hinduism. This is God “in the cave of the heart,” the center of being – the “Atman.” The goal of this religion is to discover this abiding Truth within one’s self. Though God-Immanent is also found in Christianity, it is not its central revelation. A major difference between the Hindu Atman and God-Immanent in Christianity is that for the Christian, God-within is “other” than one’s self, whereas for the Hindu, Atman is one’s Self – “thou are that.”

So where the Christian has a personal rapport with God-Immanent, the Hindu has no rapport with Atman; its presence is simply an impersonal, universal truth. If we grant that both religions have the same revelation, to account for the difference, it follows that once you believe Atman is your self, then there is no one left to relate to, no relationship with God possible. Christians familiar with God’s interior Presence, however, neither regard this Presence as themselves nor could regard it as impersonal. Still, both religions affirm God-Immanent or God within us.

One corruption of God’s Immanence, however, is the attempt of an individual to be taken over by this interior power or spirit, to literally become possessed by it, one form of Shamanism, at least. To this end man has invented various techniques to forget himself, his own existence via drugs, incantations, rituals, and much more. To a lesser extent, we have accounts of people attempting to become “mediums” of the indwelling presence, accounts probably as old as man. Then there are those who claim “special powers,” which is all but endemic in our religions, Christianity no exception. In this respect, the revelation of God’s Immanence is risky. It is the only revelation that lends itself to religious charlatans, power-hungry deceivers, all in the name of God, of course.”

As I sit with Roberts today, two things stand out to me.

The first is her discussion of Atman. I’m struck by the timing of reading this because earlier today I happened to listen to a short Alan Watts talk where he was speaking about this exact idea. In fact, he named Atman as “thou are that.” I’m not suggesting Watts and Roberts are saying the same thing. Watts was speaking more about how culture and social context shape our concepts of God, while Roberts is carefully distinguishing theological frameworks. Still, I find it curious how this idea appeared twice in one day.

What feels clear to me now, though it certainly did not earlier in life, is that it makes sense that human beings across cultures would encounter a sense of the divine within. I would not have thought this way growing up. I was taught that my religion was the true religion, full stop, and somehow I accepted that. Today, that stance feels small. It seems far more natural to recognize that humans, being human, would locate and name this interior encounter in different ways.

From Roberts’ description, I can see that I land firmly in the Christian understanding of God-within. Not as myself, not as an impersonal force, but as a personal, guiding ground that sustains me. This echoes what we spoke about previously: a Presence that accesses us, that accompanies rather than collapses into us.

The second thing that stands out to me is Roberts’ statement that “the revelation of God’s Immanence is risky.” That line took my breath away. The idea that God would reveal Godself in such an intimate way, knowing how easily that revelation could be distorted, misused, or exploited, feels staggering. Whether God does this riskiness not knowing how humanity would interrupt it, or knowing full well, either way, it reveals something profound about the nature of (divine) generosity.

So, what are these words asking of me?

Two responses rise to the surface: humility and gratitude.

Humility, because it is increasingly evident to me how many things I once believed that simply are not true. I suspect there are many more untruths still waiting to be uncovered and/or discovered. To recognize that God’s revelations among many things are not confined to my understanding or my tradition requires a deep letting go of certainty and control.

Gratitude, because the picture that emerges here is of a God who is playful, loving, and willing to take extraordinary risks. An Infinite who gives away everything so that the finite might cycle the sun a few times. That kind of generosity is almost inconceivable, especially in light of how often I take it for granted. My tendency to want more, to grasp, to secure, stands in sharp contrast to what has already been given.

Humility and gratitude ask me to pause, to consider, and to recognize the many ways I am still full of myself. They ask me to do the work of letting go and to take a few risks of my own, risking authenticity, risking vulnerability, risking trust.

So how is this work going?

As you might expect, some days are better than others. But overall, I’ve come to embrace the work with more compassion than I once had. I give myself space to stumble. I know change is possible, even transformation, because I am not the same person I was a decade ago. While the outer accoutrements of my life may look similar, the interior has been and continues to be completely redone.

Perhaps the question that lingers for us is where in life might you be asked to let go of control, effort, or certainty, in order to notice what is already quietly present? Another invitational question could be if what is most real does not announce itself, what changes when you stop grasping or reaching and just allow yourself to be found?