I Think God is Beautiful

I haven’t done a serious post in a while. I tend to be a pretty transparent person, and I’m ok with sharing all kinds of things many people wouldn’t dare. I’ve been warned by other mommy bloggers, though, that while being transparent with those I interact with on a daily basis can be a very good thing, being too transparent on my blog could be a problem, especially in this culture of outrage we live in. I've been warned to weigh it out and decide if I'm prepared for the potential backlash. I don’t think there are too many people that follow this blog that don’t actually know me in person, but I can see the potential issue with misinterpretation or that nastiness that too often comes out when generally decent people get behind a screen. I've been there, on both sides. It's not pretty.

However, I have dozens of posts in my draft folder, posts that flowed out in great urgency and through tears and prayer, posts that would ultimately not be published because I wasn’t sure I wanted to put those raw feelings out into cyberspace. Posts on feminism, sexism, racism, terrorism, marriage equality, the church, the government and my little dot on the map. Serious political, emotional, controversial stuff, not really what I usually post on this blog. Sometimes I wonder if something happened to me, would anyone go through my draft folder? What would they think? Would they delete it all as the ranting of a crazy person or publish it all as powerful words from the grave? Maybe I should clean that folder out. Or not. Or write a post with instructions about what to do with everything in it if something did happen to me. Or just hold onto them all and ponder the courage it would take to hit that little orange button and put it all out there.

Anyway, I do post about my son with autism and food allergies. My most popular posts are my recipes, but many posts about our specific issues with his development are frequently visited, too. Having reached a very manageable point in his development, there’s not much to write lately. Sometimes I wonder if this is just the calm before the storm. Puberty is coming, and I wonder sometimes if that mixed with autism will throw me a curveball or just go haywire like a possessed pitching machine. Time will only tell, but every now and then, I’m reminded of the different way he thinks. Sometimes it adds a certain level of frustration. More often than not, though, he moves me to tears or changes the way I see things in our little conversations.

The other night he asked me in all seriousness, "What does God look like?"

I stopped for a moment to consider my answer because this is the child that panicked at the Sunday School verbiage about God coming into his heart. His literal reasoning told him that trying to fit something as big as God into something as small as his heart would likely be painful if not deadly. I knew I had to be careful in how I answered this question. I couldn't go to Revelation and the description of Jesus, although that's the most literal way to go about answering that question. I didn't feel like that was what he was asking. He asked me as if I would know because I've seen God. I love how he assumes I know the answers to his hugely complicated spiritual questions, and as I considered what to say, my heart became overwhelmed by the answer and what I desperately wanted to teach him about who God is.

So, my answer?

"God looks like you. He looks like me. He created us in his image and for his glory. That means that every bit of our humanity, your boyness, my girlness, our hearts, our souls and our minds, it all started with him. So, when you want to know what God looks like, look at the people around you. You can find him in every face you see."

We talked until his little mind was satisfied, and after we prayed and I told him to go to sleep, he told me, "I think God is beautiful." He was satisfied, but I walked out of his room with tears in my eyes and a very heavy heart. Oh, how I wish the world saw itself the way he does, the way God does.

When you love God with all your heart, your soul and mind, then loving the humans around you is easier. You can love the boy with the straight limbs and great athletic ability and the girl bound to a wheelchair and a feeding tube because you can see God in them. You can love the beautiful woman dressed to the nines and the homeless man wearing everything he owns because in their eyes you see God. You can love the people who look and speak different from you. You can love the people who disagree with you, those who pick on you. You can love the bully, the mean girl, and the person who goes out of their way to be friends with everyone. When you love God and seek his face, you can even love the angry man who may take your life because he sees a God he hates in you. You can love like that because God IS love, and the more you seek him the more like him you will be. The more you seek him the more you see him in the people around you. Seek his face, and you'll find it in the lost and hurting around you.

I could blog about every current event and issue we face right now and do little more than toss my drop of water into the ocean, or I could love like Jesus and create the kind of current that guides lost vessels to safe harbor, the most important of those vessels being my children. I can teach them about prejudice and injustice, or I can lead them into a relationship with the God who knows no such thing. I can teach them to seek the God who is no respecter of persons, the God who loves the persecutor and the persecuted, the discriminator and the discriminated, the God who sees into the broken soul of every human being and desires to heal and restore each one to himself above all else.

That is who God is, and that's what he looks like, like you and me reaching out in healing and restoration. I found myself on my knees begging God to help me teach my children that one thing, because I feel like even if I get everything else wrong, seeking the God who created them and loving every other person he created, there is nothing more right.

I don't think I will ever forget those precious little words, "I think God is beautiful." Yes, Baby, he most certainly is.