Even God Is Not Loved by All

There is a quiet expectation many of us carry—so quiet we rarely question it.

That if we are kind enough, thoughtful enough, careful enough… we will be understood.

That if our intentions are good, our efforts sincere, our hearts open… we will be received well.

And when we are not— when someone misunderstands us, disagrees, or finds fault anyway— something inside us stirs.

What did I do wrong? How could I have said that better? Why wasn’t that enough?

But pause for a moment, and consider something much larger than yourself.

Across time, across cultures, across every story ever told— even God has not been agreed upon.

The divine—whether seen as creator, spirit, force, or presence—has been loved, feared, doubted, rejected, misunderstood, and argued with since the beginning of human thought.

There is no version of God that has satisfied everyone.

Not one.

So what, then, are we expecting of ourselves?

To be clearer than the infinite? Kinder than the divine? More universally understood than that which created understanding itself?

It is a quiet absurdity… and yet we carry it daily.

This is not to say that we should abandon care.

It does not free us from responsibility, nor grant permission to act without thought.

Our words still matter. Our actions still ripple outward. We are still accountable for the ways we affect others.

But there is a difference— a profound and necessary difference— between living with integrity and living for approval.

Integrity asks:

Was I honest? Was I thoughtful? Am I willing to learn and repair if I’ve caused harm?

Approval asks:

Did everyone like me? Did no one misunderstand me? Was I flawless in their eyes?

One is grounded.

The other is endless.

If even the highest ideal humanity has ever imagined cannot escape disagreement, then disagreement is not a sign of failure.

It is a condition of existence.

And here is where something begins to soften.

You are allowed to be misunderstood.

You are allowed to be disagreed with.

You are even allowed to be wrong— and still be worthy of respect, growth, and your own compassion.

The goal, then, is not to become someone who is beyond criticism.

That person does not exist.

The goal is to become someone who can stand within themselves and say:

I acted with the best understanding I had. I am willing to grow where I need to. And I will not measure my worth by the shifting opinions of others.

Because if even God is not loved by all… then the task was never to be universally loved.

It was to be honest in your walk, and humble in your learning.

And perhaps, if we release the need to be received perfectly…

we might finally begin to live more truthfully.

The Crone says:

“Even the sky is cursed by those who wish for rain, and blamed by those who receive too much of it. Be like the sky anyway.”

There is a story I recently shared—one of Baba Yaga, not as the crone of the forest, but as a child.

The Making of Baba Yaga

Before she was known as wise or terrible… she was simply different.

She spoke to things others could not see. She sat in stillness when others played. She followed curiosities no one else understood.

And the people around her did what people have always done when faced with something unfamiliar.

They whispered.

They judged.

They called her odd.

Yet that same child—misunderstood, mislabeled, quietly observed—

became the very figure later known as wise.

So we must ask:

Was she ever truly “wrong”?

Or was she simply seen too early, through eyes that could not yet understand her?

And if that is true of her…

how often is it true of us?

If even the divine is not agreed upon, and even the wise are first misunderstood…

then perhaps the problem is not that we are failing to be acceptable.

Perhaps the problem is the expectation that we ever could be.