Eyes of Faith

"O my dove in the clefts of the rock,in the secret recesses of the cliff,Let me see you,let me hear your voice, For your voice is sweet,and you are lovely." (Song of Songs 2:14)

In my continued dealings with dysphoria, my counselor recommended I come up with a set of goals - mile markers and a destination I want to move towards. The idea being I can remind myself of the truths of who I am, even when I don't see it myself.

So that got me thinking about how we will be in the resurrection. It seems to me this is the ultimate goal to aim towards - when we will have been reunited with our bodies, and been perfected by God's grace, living in perfect unity and peace with Him; with ourselves; with each other.

What seems sensible right away is that - if it's true that we will be like God in His capacity to love - we won't be concerned with our own appearance. In fact, I'd be so bold as to say there will be no mirrors in eternity. Not that mirrors are inherently bad, or that looking at ourselves is wrong; but I guess I wonder why it is that we even spend the time looking in the mirror? Do we need to remind ourselves of our inherent beauty and dignity?

If we have eyes of Love, won't we be too busy celebrating the beauty of those around us? Delighting in the unique goodness of how they were created, resting in each others' presence the way we rest before a gorgeous sunrise?

I want those eyes. I want to see others as Christ sees them, and I want a deep, abiding trust in how He sees me.

This brings up the obvious question - can I live like that now? How do I get to that point?

Some thoughts - this is primarily a matter of faith. God has given us sufficient reasons to demonstrate just how desperately He adores us, most visibly the Incarnation. When He took on a human nature, He demonstrated exactly how highly He sees us.

Trusting God in this isn't a binary matter - I think comes in increments. Obviously this isn't something any of us can accomplish ourselves, so there has to be grace (prayer, Word, sacraments, acts of devotion) throughout.

Some thoughts on mile markers along the way:

• Know God ("Who is the Creator?") the true God who loves above all else. Without knowing that God loves me, I can't start to trust His sweet words in how He claims to see me.
• Know Ourselves ("How does He see me?") - having been created by a loving God, made in His image and called to live as self-gift. We need to see and love ourselves properly, because we can't love others correctly unless we first acknowledge our own inherent goodness. If we trust God, we can work to see ourselves as He sees us.
• Know Others ("How does He see the world?") recognize and honor His goodness in all of creation. We find joy in reminding others of their value and just how worthy of love they are.

The destination here is to have the faith of a Saint - where we trust God's delight to such an extent that the question ("how do I see myself?") is no longer on our minds.

Trusting God like that is like trusting air. We empty ourselves out in every moment, exhaling to the point that we would die without our next breath, knowing inherently that He will be there to fill us up when we need to inhale. We radically abandon ourselves to Him.

With that kind of faith, we no longer need to even consider ourselves - His love is sufficient. We can totally look outwardly, living lives shaped by love, and be saints.

Anyways - this, as far as I'm concerned, is the goal. I can say definitely that I'm not there yet - but the destination seems so beautiful as to be worthy of pursuit.

God is Compassionate

Tonight, we celebrate a Savior - born in a stable, wrapped in swaddling cloths, laid in a manger. We sing of the "Silent Night"; we cry out for "Joy to the World", that the Lord is come. We rejoice that He is here, at long last. It's all so sweet. Calm. Beautiful. Picture-perfect. We spend time with friends and family, unwrapping presents and feasting, dreaming of the light coming into the world with God-With-Us, Emmanuel.

But let's not forget - this story is not a saccharine vignette that belongs on the mantle. Tonight we also remember as the first time, in the history of ever, that God suffered.

It's funny - in the Old Testament, God is referred to as "compassionate" (though some translations offer "merciful" instead). But if we're going based on the technical definition of the word ("compassion" = "to suffer with"), that's not something God could even in principle experience without the Incarnation.

And yet here we are, proclaiming God-become-Man.

God-become-hungry.
God-become-cold.
God-become-naked.
God-become-weak.
God-become-helpless.
God-become-dependent.

This should be such a shocking concept, but we've gotten used to the idea. It's not just that God suffered and died on a Cross. This is the great mystery - that God allows Himself to experience a lack of anything at all, willingly humbling Himself to our level to save us.

It may be wrong to think of God as being surprised, but I can just imagine Christ thinking to Himself that first night - 

"So this is what it feels like to be in pain ... oh, my dear beloved children - Here I Am. I know what you are going through, and I am with you in this. You are not alone."

Beloved friends - Christ knows intimately what you are going through. He chose to suffer for you. He chose it again and again throughout His life, for you. He willingly took that on, for you. He says you are worth it - that He'd do it all over again, just for you.

The real question is - what is your response to that magnificent and impossible gift? What do you offer to the King who dwells among us, who has touched every aspect of human existence to ensure that you are never alone? The One who never shies away from human sin and dysfunction, but always draws near - when we allow Him in? Will our hearts be the stables where He is born again every moment of each day?

When we realize who Jesus is, what He did, and that it all started that first night He suffered for us ... this is why we rejoice at His Coming.