This work of non-fiction/religion is a reflective spiritual look at life that is taken from the Gospels and woven into a thought-provoking story. The author goes back over her memories growing up and her strong Christian beliefs and faith that have stayed with her throughout her life. While the story is suited to those with Christian beliefs it could also be helpful to those   facing uncertain or stressful times in their life. 

The book is written with simplicity and unlike some religious books does not get bogged down with complicated religious narrative. You will like the reflective sayings that are woven through the book and you will find it a soul-stirring read. 

Who Made God Is an accomplished work and  a small book that has a big Christian message.  

In Store Price: $21.95 
Online Price:   $20.95

ISBN: 978-1-921731-96-2   
Format: Paperback
Number of pages:112
Genre: Non Fiction - Christian



Author: Trish Slobe
Publisher: Zeus Publications
Date Published: 2010
Language: English



The title of this book is a question for which there is no answer. Yet it makes us think. It also helps us understand that most of us make God in our own image and likeness whereas we are made in his. 

Our interaction with God, or better, our communion with God provides us with the means to see the ways God works in our lives and how we can become a better person. 

In this book Trish Slobe draws on her own experience and personal stories to help her readers deal effectively with personal stress and anxiety. She leads them out of these states of mind to “find peace again”. 

In her closeness to Jesus and his Heavenly Father Trish reveals the secret of her own inner joy and peaceful spirit to others as she invites them to follow a similar path. 

Anyone who is spiritually minded will enjoy the practical and down-to-earth wisdom they will find in these pages. 

Barry Hickey

Archbishop of Perth

17th November 2009

Chapter One - part sample 

It is with great joy that I remember a day years ago – going back to a time when I was a little girl merely five years of age. It is a day that is firmly implanted in my mind and heart alike, to be treasured always as being a stepping stone that led me into feeling only compassion towards people who are sadly at a distance from God.

My first home was a rambling old house in the heart of the goldfields of Western Australia, which back then was called the gold rush. It was a wonderful house with enormous rooms, high ceilings and squeaky wooden floorboards. The highlight of that old home though, was a big, wide verandah that bordered the whole of the house, thereby creating a ranch-style effect. We girls would derive so much pleasure from running around and around it until our legs could carry us no further, all the while the thud of our footsteps on the floorboards blended with our laughter, ringing out into the air.

It amazes me now, when I look back, to think that we were never reprimanded, for the noise must have been absolutely unbearable to our mother’s ears as she busily worked inside. But then, she very rarely put a damper on our fun.

This particular day that I often reminisce about was a day I distinctly remember as being hot and sticky. We used to have an old table and a few chairs placed outside on the verandah, just by the kitchen door. We often ate there when the weather was unbearably hot, which was very frequently during summer on the goldfields.

There we were this day, my mother, my older sister and myself, as well as my younger sister who was still only a baby and gurgling contentedly in a cradle not far from us. The day was completely still and quiet. I remember how the quietness, broken only by the passing of a car along that dusty road, had a haunting effect on me. Tumbling through my mind was that much-used saying of all being quiet before a storm, while all the time I was bearing a great dread of a storm indeed being imminent.

Often I would lie awake at night, fearful of the dark, but when there was a storm my fear was greatly intensified, until invariably I would go running to my parents’ bedroom in a very distressed state, to be soothed and comforted in their warm, welcoming arms. I was imagining that the night ahead would be another humiliating occurrence, for despite my young age, it was embarrassing and I was forever vowing that I would become braver; but that great point of fear always had me running yet again.

We were coming to the end of a luncheon, which consisted of cold meat, salad and bread besides. My mother was soaking up the dregs of the salad dressing with bits of bread, while my sister was singing softly in the background as she looked out onto the panoramic view of the outback bush.

Sitting still, staring into space, all thoughts of a coming storm were suddenly taken from me, as I began thinking once more of an issue that had been bugging me for quite some time – a mind-boggling issue that I was desperately trying to come to grips with. So very vividly, I remember blurting out a question that caused my sister’s singing to come to an abrupt halt. In comparison, my mother’s response was a quiet chuckle as she stood up to take my baby sister inside, leaving me faced with the horror-stricken expression on my sister’s face, with the question I had asked still ringing in my ears: ‘Who made God?’

How terribly horrid her expression had left me feeling! I had wanted to run away from her intimidating stare, but it had seemed I was frozen in my seat. While I had been hopelessly trying to break away, I had watched as she had bitten her lower lip and nodded her head in dismay, while portraying a look of disgust. Finally she had spoken, telling me I had asked a sinful question and adding that surely I knew God was not made but instead had always existed.

Well, the simple truth of the matter was that I had not realised that, but this new knowledge had only left me feeling even more confused and uncomfortable. Someone must have made Him, I had kept telling myself, but there had been no one to argue the point with now that my sister had convinced me that my question had been sinful.

Consequently, I carried an awful burden for a time, fighting off those horrid questions which kept surfacing to my mind.

It is hard for me to remember when my mind was put to rest. Perhaps it was as I gradually learned about God at a Catholic school in Boulder – a town in the outback of Western Australia. Somewhere along the line, as more and more Christian knowledge sank in, I grasped onto faith. And with faith came the comfortable assurance that God was eternal, with no beginning and no end; knowledge that if thought about intensely enough, is even hard for an adult mind to grasp, a mind conditioned to see and think thoughts all in the context of a beginning and an end.

Faith gives us a wholehearted acceptance of what we believe. Now, when I come across people with little or no faith, I have a little laugh to myself as the question ‘Who made God?’ comes ringing through my ears once more, leaving me able to relate to the faithlessness that I am faced with, while carrying the same heart of the little girl I left behind with my childhood. Perhaps if I had not pondered over that question all those years ago, I would not be able to relate so well to people who have little or no faith in God.

Faith is a journey we take that holds many surprises. One can never really be too sure. There is a constant awakening involved, a silent whispering in one’s ear when the Holy Spirit prevails. It is when one comes to a point of recognising illusion, after presumably walking in the Lord’s footsteps. The illusion is recognised as one looks back at the footprints, only to find that the imprints were not as they had seemed at the time, but instead the footsteps of a mere human being, who in actual fact had been walking away from the Lord.

Life is one great learning process. Incorporated in the learning process are the illusions that deceive us into believing that which is far from the truth, from the Gospel truth.

There is a key that fits though, into a doorway full of knowledge. The Bible holds the answers to all of our questions, including the one I once asked in all my innocence as a child. It is the best guideline we can ever come across.

I often look upon the New Testament as being a type of road map, pointing us into the direction we already intend to go, for we all have that yearning deep within us; it is simply a matter of opening up this special road map and allowing ourselves to be led into the right direction, that of eternal life, which is often referred to as our homecoming.

Our life on Earth is merely a tent-dwelling, as we travel on our way to better things, to a place where material possessions hold no importance. If we remember this, it can serve as an excellent way of resisting material temptation, which leads us away from Spirituality. Sometimes a matter-of-fact attitude is a great attribute to have.

In a tent, of course, there is no need for extravagance. Instead there is ample room to live naturally and more in tune with natural instincts – with our heartbeat becoming more evident, our breathing more appreciated, our feelings more stimulated – and we tend to obtain a better awareness over our actions.

Materialism is the killer of Spirituality, for there is no life force in materialism. The more we get drawn into materialism, the more our Spirituality gets snuffed out, rather like a candle struggling to stay alight in a rapidly increasing breeze. On the other hand, the further we are away from being caught up in materialism, the more similar we are to a candle burning brightly in the dark: giving light to those that need it.

In materialism there is much illusion. It is so important for our well-being, as well as for the well-being of others, that we keep track of our lives by constantly looking back at the footprints, in order to see if Our Lord is truly present in our lives; or more specifically, to see if we are letting ourselves be led by the Lord.

It is at this turning point when we stop, look back and realise, in a prayerful state, that our Lord stands beside us, ready to carry us on through the journey of life.

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