A Troll In The Woods And The God Who’s Bigger

There are few things that make an afternoon walk more exciting for a child than the promise of discovering a giant troll hiding in the woods.

If you live in the Pacific Northwest, you’ve probably heard about the larger-than-life wooden trolls tucked away along trails and in parks. They’re whimsical, mysterious, and just magical enough to convince a seven-year-old that maybe—just maybe—they come alive after everyone leaves.

One afternoon, Penny and I decided to go for a walk to find one. The entire way there she buzzed with excitement. “What if it’s bigger than our house?” she asked. “What if it’s real? What if it moves?” I assured her that it wouldn’t move, although I secretly hoped it might blink just once so I could see the expression on her face.

After weaving through the trees, we finally found it.

It was enormous.

Its wooden hands stretched across the forest, its face peeked through the trees, and every carefully carved detail made it feel almost alive. Standing beside it made us feel wonderfully small.

Joanna Gott

Penny stared up at it for a long moment before turning to me and asking, “Mom… is God bigger than the troll?”

I smiled.

“Oh yes,” I replied. “Much bigger.”

She nodded thoughtfully, still looking up at the towering figure. Then she asked another question that stopped me in my tracks.

“How big is God?”

Those are the moments motherhood has given me—the questions no parenting book really prepares you for. Because how do you explain someone who can’t be measured? How do you describe someone who has no beginning or end, who created the universe, but whom you can’t physically point to?

It’s an especially interesting question in a world filled with imaginary characters and magical stories.

Children grow up hearing about Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, and the Easter Bunny. They read stories about dragons, unicorns, talking animals, trolls hiding in forests, superheroes with incredible powers, and dinosaurs that once roamed the earth. Some of those things are real. Some are pretend. Some are based on history, while others exist only in imagination.

Then somewhere in the middle of all those stories, we tell them about God.

Only this time we say, “This One is real.”

If you stop and think about it, that’s actually a pretty big concept for a child to grasp. Unlike the troll standing in the woods, we can’t point to God with our finger. Unlike Santa, He doesn’t leave wrapped presents under the tree. Unlike the Tooth Fairy, He doesn’t tuck money beneath a pillow. We teach our children about Someone they can’t physically see but who is more real than anything else they’ll ever know.

We tell them He hears every prayer.

That He created the stars.

That He knows every hair on their head.

That He loves them more deeply than anyone ever could.

That He is always with them.

Those are beautiful truths. But they’re also invisible ones.

The older I’ve gotten, the more I’ve realized that this isn’t just a challenge for children. It’s one we continue wrestling with as adults.

Our questions simply become more sophisticated.

Is God really here?

Can He hear me?

Is He paying attention?

Does He see what I’m walking through?

Has He forgotten me?

As children we wonder, “How big is God?” As adults, we often ask, “Is God big enough for this?”

Big enough for the diagnosis.

Big enough for the financial strain.

Big enough for the broken relationship.

Big enough for the uncertainty.

Big enough for the prayers that seem to echo back in silence.

Maybe that’s why I loved Penny’s question so much. Children have a way of asking the questions adults are quietly carrying in their hearts.

The Bible paints a picture of God’s greatness that stretches far beyond what our minds can fully comprehend. Isaiah writes, “Surely the nations are like a drop in a bucket; they are regarded as dust on the scales.” (Isaiah 40:15). Just a few verses later we’re reminded that God measures the waters in the hollow of His hand and stretches out the heavens like a curtain. The oceans fit within His hand. The stars were spoken into existence by His voice. Mountains are measured by Him.

Suddenly that giant troll didn’t seem quite so giant anymore.

Neither did many of the things that tend to overwhelm me.

Sometimes I think we unintentionally shrink God down to the size of our own understanding. If we can’t see Him working, we assume He isn’t. If we can’t explain what He’s doing, we wonder if He has a plan at all. We measure His ability by our own limitations.

Children don’t do that.

Penny never questioned whether God could be bigger than the troll. She simply assumed He was. She just wanted to know how much bigger.

There’s something incredibly beautiful about that kind of faith.

Jesus understood it too. That’s why He said, “Let the little children come to me… for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.” (Matthew 19:14). Children believe before they fully understand. They trust before they have all the answers. They don’t spend their energy trying to reduce God to something manageable. They simply believe He is who He says He is.

As we turned to leave, Penny looked back one last time at the towering troll.

“God is definitely bigger,” she said matter-of-factly.

I laughed.

“I think you’re right.”

As we walked back through the woods, I couldn’t stop thinking about that simple statement. So many things in life can feel like that giant troll—towering over us, intimidating us, making us feel incredibly small. A difficult diagnosis. A broken dream. Financial uncertainty. Waiting for an answered prayer. Parenting struggles. Grief. Fear of the future.

Maybe the goal isn’t to convince ourselves those things are small.

Maybe the invitation is simply to remember that God is so much bigger.

Bigger than our fears.

Bigger than our doubts.

Bigger than our unanswered questions.

Bigger than the mountains we face.

And yes…

Even bigger than the biggest troll in the Pacific Northwest.