I was raised to believe that there was a God and that He was a personal being. As a child, you don’t really question what your parents tell you. If they say there is a jolly, three-hundred-pound man who delivers all the Christmas toys in one night on the backs of flying reindeer with one red headlight, you believe them. When I reached adolescence, however, I felt compelled to question everything. I challenged the picture of God that emerged from the instructions given by my parents, teachers, and pastors. And these questions weren’t all of the trivial type, such as, “Can God create a rock so heavy that He can’t lift it?” Nope, they were: “Why do bad things happen to good people? Does everything happen for a reason, and according to God’s will? Everything? Including all the bad stuff?” Then there were the highly polarizing views that never appeared to be questioned, such as, “Trust, love, worship, and serve God, or else He’ll send you to hell.” Views like that were terrifying. If God is supposed to be our caring and loving Father, how could He burn to death His disobedient children? I didn’t think the worst parent on earth would do something that ghastly. This picture was beyond toxic and left me in state of fear. The fear of God made me feel small and worthless and that my only value to Him was worship and obedience. I’m sorry to say, but God seemed like a big bully, and pushing me around didn’t win over my heart. Sure, pushing one another down in a demonstration of strength was how my classmate Max and I became best friends in third grade, but I wasn’t in third grade anymore! Even when I was told that God loved me, and because of that love sent His Son to earth to save us all, it still sounded fearsome and gruesome. Did God have to torture His Son on a cross, otherwise He couldn’t accept me for who I am? Why would God have to do that if He’s the most powerful being in the universe? If He wanted to save us from the “pitchfork guy,” then He should rescue us with His superpowers instead of some bloody, seemingly orchestrated, sacrificial ritual. At the heart of all my questions, there was essentially just one question I was asking: Do I matter to God, or is it only what I do for Him that matters? To think that our service to Him is our only value, places us as nothing more than servants, or even worse—slaves. Yet I was assured as an adolescent that God wanted to be friends. He wanted to be my best friend, in fact. But how many friends do you have who would kill you if you weren’t their friend? Zero! You’d call the cops if that scenario were ever presented to you. However, we can’t call law enforcement on God. He is the law! And if you don’t obey His law, you get a divinely enforced death sentence. Thanks . . . friend? In the end, it left me stuck. How do you tell someone who can detonate you, “Thanks, but no thanks”? I eventually arrived at the conclusion that communicated exactly what I was reaching for: If God wants to truly be my friend, then He should be more friendly. Worth Every Drop is a journey of faith—discovering a God who is consistent, friendly, and trustworthy. It is a deep dive into the Bible to make sense of who God is, and who we truly are to Him. Whether you are a boomer or a millennial, agnostic or a believer, this book is for you.