During this Lenten season, I have been reading a book that talks about God’s grace, which sounds like a concept that should be easy to understand, yet I am struggling with it.
In the book, Forty Days of Fruitful Living, the author talks about the fact that God loves me unconditionally, that He gives his grace freely, and that I do not have to do a thing to earn that grace and love. It is a message I have heard many times, in other books, in sermons, in Bible study classes. I feel like when I read those words—God loves you!—that I should be moved to tears. God, the creator of heaven and earth, loves me! Shouldn’t that knowledge wipe away all my stress and worry? Shouldn’t it clear my mind of any tension or negative thoughts? But that isn’t what happens. Despite knowing God loves me, I sometimes feel as if I am sinking in all the responsibilities of my life.
It isn’t as if I don’t believe in God’s love . In fact, I do believe that I am a child of God, that Jesus died for my sins, and that God loves me and always will. I think my problem with fully grasping God’s grace is that I want to physically see God. I believe I would have a better appreciation and understanding of this Being who loves me, who died for me and then rose from the dead for me, if I could see Him.
Yes, that’s it. I need to see God, standing before me with eyes, nose, mouth, hair—just like I can see any of you. I have gone to church for as long as I can remember, but for some time now—more so in my adult years, actually—I have yearned for physical, indisputable, in-front-of-my-face evidence of God’s presence in my life.
As I read back over the words I’ve just written, an old saying comes to mind: Be careful what you wish for. If God did walk up to me right now (I write this sitting in the library) and tap me on the shoulder, I would probably drop dead in my tracks. I picture God as big and glowing and fearsome and, well, I really don’t know how to picture God, but being the scaredy-cat that I am, I’m pretty sure that coming face-to-face with Him would be more than I could bear.
Having said all that, I’ve been wondering if whether I actually have seen God, but just didn’t have the good sense to recognize Him.
Several days ago, I was driving Maggie to school. We were making our way east on Pulaski Highway when I saw not one flock of Canada geese, but three separate flocks. “Look, Maggie!” I said. The three flocks weren’t in neat “V” formations that I’m so used to seeing, but each flock was gliding forward in a moving, swirling mosaic that on the one hand looked disorganized and chaotic, but I somehow knew that the geese knew what they were doing. They looked as if they were jostling into position and communicating with one another in a language that I, of course, could not understand. An image came to my mind of God up in heaven, playing with an Etch-a-Sketch, and it made me smile. As much as I enjoyed seeing the geese that beautiful morning, I enjoyed even more sharing the sight with my stepdaughter Maggie.
A few days later, I was riding the elevator to the lobby at work. I was heading out, just down the block, to get a cup of coffee at McDonald’s. There was one other person on the elevator with me, and we happened to strike up a conversation in the couple of minutes we were together. During that brief encounter, it came up that she was originally from Georgia. I mentioned that I was from Tennessee. We laughed that we now live in New York, where as kids we never dreamed we’d end up, and then we went on to talk about Southern foods that we loved and missed. It turns out that she was headed to McDonald’s too—to buy oatmeal, she said, though what she was really hankerin’ was grits—so we talked for several minutes before parting ways. That short interaction with her made me laugh and smile. I felt as if I’d just met an old friend, and I was in a better mood for the rest of the day, all due to that chance meeting on the elevator.
Through those experiences—spotting the geese with Maggie, meeting the fellow Southerner on the elevator—did I see God? I talk about wanting to see God the way I see an actual person, but could it be that I see Him every day, moving mysteriously and gracefully like a flock of birds in the morning sky?
I leave you with Philippians 2:8-9—And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself and became obedient to death—even death on a cross! Therefore God exalted him to the highest place and gave him the name that is above every name.
—Kim Paras
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