Seeing God

I wrote this in March 2001, in Red River, NM and thinking of the 25th chapter of the Gospel of Matthew:

Seeing God

It is easy to see God gazing at snow-capped mountains and pristine flowing streams.

God seems so evident in the beauty of a sunrise and the resigned royalty of a sunset.

I can hear God's crashing voice in the fury of a thunderstorm, and see Him in His God painted rainbow.

I always feel God's love holding a newborn baby, untouched by the world that can hurt him.

Do I see him in the man on the corner with a mangled, torn, misspelled cardboard sign? Do I see him in the dirty hair and hands and clothes that smell of a life I wouldn't choose?

Do I fail when judging the teenager being used by the drug in an inner-city somewhere, anywhere in the world?

Are my eyes clouded by the appearance of someone a world away? Do I forget to see God when someone else's eyes are clouded by how I look?

When I lash out in anger or disgust, I surely forget that I am lashing out at God. In a myriad of prejudice we spew hate at the One who is our hope and our future.

Where must I see God?

In the mountains and in the streets.

In all color of skin.

In young and old.

In the suburbs and the cities.

In a Lexus and on the bus.

In my hometown and around the globe.

In the prostitute, the thief, the homeless, the CEO.

In those who know they're in need, and those who haven't the thought that eternity was already purchased in the blood of our Lord.

In those whom I love, but those who seem unlovable.

Where is God?

Look. He's next door.

I fail often to realize that God loves me more than I love my own children. If they hurt, I hurt. When they laugh, I laugh with them. I take personally all of their successes and failures. You don't get to hurt my family without it becoming personal for me.

I think that is what God tells us in Matthew 25. He takes very personally the treatment of His children.

We have a tradition in my family that when someone says, "I love you," our response is, "I love you more!" I happen to know that when I hear that from my child it cannot possibly be true.

Father in Heaven I love you, but I know, I KNOW YOU LOVE ME MORE.