What God Looks Like

I once heard author Parker Palmer share a story about a three-year-old girl from Seattle. Her parents had recently brought her newborn brother home from the hospital, and she was so excited about having a brother that within a few hours of their return, she asked to be alone with him in his room. Her insistence about being alone with her baby brother made her parents uneasy, but they had purchased a baby monitor for the nursery, so they felt it would be okay to allow her time alone with him. They laid their baby in his crib, brought their daughter into his room, shut the door, then raced to the monitor to listen in. After a few seconds they heard their daughter’s footsteps moving closer to the crib, when suddenly they heard her whisper, “Tell me what God looks like. I’ve almost forgotten.” 

Like most mysteries, this story is both eerie and beautiful, reminding us of where we are and where we’ve come from. As we grow older, the sense of divine separation and self-awareness intensifies. Something happens—a loved one dies, a job is lost, a marriage dissolves—and we feel alone, adrift in a world that doesn’t quite feel like home anymore. We forget the face of our maker.

Remember when you were a child, that time at the grocery store or shopping mall when you were separated from your mom or dad? I do. My family was on vacation in rural Mexico, and after a few hours window shopping on the plaza in the summer heat, I decided to wander into an air conditioned clothing store. Lost in a daze of refreshment, I suddenly realized I was alone. My parents hadn’t noticed my disappearance and continued down a side street with my sister. I bolted out of the store, searched the plaza, but couldn’t find a friendly face. I’ll never forget feeling so lonely and afraid. I wanted to be found, to be told I was okay, and that we were going home.

“Thankfully, you’ll know you are on the way home when love, compassion, grace, beauty, and truth take root in your soul and become actualized in your daily life.”

In a sense, this is exactly what spirituality is all about: the art of going home, returning to divine union with our maker. Thomas Aquinas, a 13th century scholar and theologian, wrote, “The whole life of man is a return journey to God: He came from God and must go back to him. The more complete his return, the more intimate his union with God.” Scholars refer to this divine union as “theosis,” and it’s been largely misunderstood in the Western church. Many of the early Eastern fathers of Christianity believed human beings could experience real and intimate union with God not only after life, but right here and now. This union, or atonement (literally “at-one-ment”), is the central aim of the Christian life. As my friend the Reverend Brendan Williams told me a few weeks ago, “We are all on a quest to return to the divine image or Imago Dei in which we were made, casting off the sinful shackles of ego, violence, and separation.” Thankfully, you’ll know you are on the way home when love, compassion, grace, beauty, and truth take root in your soul and become actualized in your daily life. 

If you’ve forgotten what God looks like, if you’ve lost your way in this world and don’t know where you came from or where you are returning to, look at Jesus. As He said in John’s gospel, “If you have seen me, you have seen the Father.” Jesus’ entire life was an embodied representation of the very nature of God. When He healed the sick, He looked like God. When He forgave sins, He looked like God. When He played with children, He looked like God. When He loved unconditionally, He looked like God. When He ate and drank with prostitutes, He looked like God. When He treated women with equality, He looked like God. When He wept at the death of his friend, He looked like God. When upon the cross He forgave His tormentors and murderers, He most definitely looked like God. It’s easy to forget what God looks like in a world of violence, pandemic, economic insecurity, suffering, and pain. So if you haven’t glimpsed Him lately, take heart as Father Richard Rohr reminds us, “The people who seek God well always meet a lover,” because God is and looks like love.