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Where I left off...

God, allow me to see what you see

The portrait was two-fold. This was the first:

I was sitting with one of my female friends at Picasso’s when I began to see beauty. Allow me to clarify: it was not some superficial demonstration of beauty that could be understood with my own cognitive senses, rather, a magnetic image of everything good. Her individuality, her intelligence, her artistry, her passion…her heart -- it all began to rise to the surface, and it was good. The beauty wasn’t just “not bad” (which is often what we strive for); the goodness defined everything else around it.

I had never seen anything like this before. Honestly, I truly loved and desired “it” without knowing exactly what “it” was. This continued for a few weeks -- different people, but the same unexplainable beauty. I lived with an optimism I had not known since childhood. Though every image was different, each person held these same core characteristics, as if they captured the image of God himself.

Ah yes…the prayer! Is this what God sees? Does He see it in me?!? If I was viewing my friends through the lens of His own eyes, is this the nature of our relationship?

Then it suddenly made sense to me…Father. The unexplainable joy and gravitational pull toward this beauty -- it mirrored that of one that first rests their eyes on a newborn child. Was this His intent at creation?

I chased the picture further. When a child is born, they have not been emotionally hurt (nor caused pain). Very little is explained or foregone. From a sensory point-of-view, one apparent distinguishing factor is hereditary: “He has his father’s eyes,” or ”she has her mother’s smile.” The only other discernable feature (shortly after birth) is raw personality -- the child could be active, relaxed, observant, dependent, mischievous, or stoic.

(I feel that I must stop right here. Some of us have grown up with some pretty twisted understandings of paternal and maternal care. Dad may not have been around, and mom may have been abusive. I acknowledge this possibility and understand that many of us are instinctively prone to dismissing what God’s role as “Father” might entangle. For many of you, this will require some deconstruction. For me it did. Try to bear with me, if this is the case…)

So God lovingly rests His eyes upon creation, and we bear the image of our Heavenly Father. To what end? Our needs, desires, interests, emotions, and the unique way that each of our minds operate…are these His image, are we intended to joyfully and freely exercise these inheritances?

Well, yes and no. Thus the second portrait:

I made the mistake of sharing what I loved about the beauty. The first beloved didn’t see it. She was appreciative of what I had to say, but the words didn’t resonate. She couldn’t see herself as intelligent, artistic, passionate, and caring -- let alone being designed that way for a purpose. Her image demonstrated other qualities that she didn’t particularly care for. While she was willing to acknowledge the potential for beauty in others, what I was describing could not penetrate layers of defensive measures.

As I continued to present the beauty that I saw in others, they rejected the words with a similar longing. It seemed as if each had a piece of them that knew something bigger could be lived for, but each of their past experiences defied this hope. In the world in which they live, they have all been prone to victimization; the victimization has led to certain necessary measures. Whether investing their time in hard work, boyfriends/girlfriends, self-righteousness, partying, social justice, or even serving others, they have all ignored the underlying discontent -- the piece of their soul that knows they are here for something more.

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God has went through painstaking efforts to restore the original image (the first portrait), but many of us cannot operate beyond our pain. And God, as a father, cannot ignore the fact that something is wrong. Many of us want to view God as restrictive and bullying -- we look at scripture as something to be bound to, as if His commandments were made to keep us from enjoying the greater things in life.

Allow me to challenge this belief: God’s commandments are nothing but those that any child would receive from a father that truly cares; they are preventative measures for my grief and yours. [For example] some see, “Do not commit adultery,” and resent God for telling them what to do. God however commands, “Do not commit adultery,” and is motivated by His desire to keep you from pain. However, like every good parent, He has granted all of us free will. As much as God’s heart aches at our disobedience, He will continue to lend us to it time and time again…all the while knowing that He intended so much more.

Should we blame God for this? Does He not long for you to live according to the first portrait? The question is: what will this take? It certainly is more than mind over matter, for the experiences do not dissipate because you want them to. We have all still been victims. We cannot live as if these things never happened, yet fall back on these experiences whenever risk is required of us to love. Instead, we must seek new eyes; we must be willing to have the defensive scales lifted. And it WILL hurt like hell. But isn’t it worth it, if you have already acknowledge the discontent?

My intent and my passion is to help walk you through this. No, I don’t have it all figured out, and I know how some of you feel about God. However, I do not have the right to make this easier. For years, churches have been trying to figure out how to reconcile their message with a hurting world, as if getting us in the door is the answer. I have personally come to the conclusion that the Gospel is the answer, and I would be doing everyone a disservice by presenting it another way. Having seen what God has set free, this has only been reinforced.