What Does That Say About Me?

A while back a dear friend staying with me in my home noticed a copy of the book, The Shack, on the shelf in my office.  He paused in the middle of our conversation and asked if I had read the book.  I acknowledged that I have read and liked the book and asked him if he had read it.  With a dismissive tone in his voice he informed me that he didn’t need to read it to know it was bad, because “it portrays God as a black woman.”   I asked him what he thought God did look like, there was a long pause, some stumbling attempts to begin, then, and this is why he is a dear friend, a smile and a humble acknowledgement that whatever the picture of God in his mind it was no closer to reality than William Young’s picture in The Shack.

The truth is that what we think God looks like probably says more about us and what we look like or at.  We are masters of creating God in our own image, it is no wonder that the decalogue begins with having no other god in His place and moves quickly to our not making any graven images…gods of our own perception.  The scary thing is that we begin by creating our own images of God to worship and then are shaped by the images we worship.  We become like what we worship the psalmist says in Psalm 115:8. 

God, in the scriptures, is likened to many things, the wind, a tower, a rock, a father, a shepherd, a lamb, a lion, in order to give us an idea of His character, His love, His desire, and His affection for us.  So why would we be offended by the image of a black woman?

Does the picture of a woman offend?  Does not the creation account tell us that women are created in His image in the same way that the man is created in His image? “God created male and female in His image,” the narrative says.  I am coming off an unpleasant battle with a stomach virus, one of those nasty things that has you going at both ends and makes you ache and feel rotten all over.  Because she did not want to share in my “joy” my wife did not want to get near me.  I will tell you that in my distress, I longed for her touch.  There is nothing to me like my wife’s touch; her arm around my neck or shoulder, her hand on my arm, her fingers touching my face, her hand holding mine, or her lips on mine.  Her touch tells me that all is well, it soothes, it says “You are loved,” it reaches deep to heal or draw near and say that all is well in ways I cannot explain.  Touch like this can only have its origin in One like that.  The touch of a woman is but one little example of the image of God displayed in one who bears His image, I could write all day about the nurture, sacrifice, provision, and so on that are feminine pictures of God.  Are these not instructive and helpful pictures of One who is beyond our comprehension, though not by His grace, beyond our experience?  If I am offended by God pictured as a woman, what does that say about my understanding of God?  What does it say about my understanding of women?  What does it say about me?  

Does the picture of God as black offend?  If we begin by looking at Jesus we at least know he wasn’t white.  When Jesus decided to become man he had to pick a color.  He had to come as something, but color did not define Him, color only defines us.  Do not our perceptions about the relative value of color once again say more about us than about God?

C.S. Lewis in probably his most beloved work, portrays God as a lion, Aslan.  No one seems to be offended that Lewis would portray God as an animal. Really, we are more offended by a human image of God than a feline one?  I am a history buff, and have been fascinated lately with World War Two, the personalities, the politics, and the war itself.  I am horrified and shamed by the depth of depravity revealed in the stories in all the theaters of the war by participants on every side.  It is burdensome to me as I read my Bible, watch the news each day, and examine my own heart and behavior, to see that mankind through history is not a very pretty picture.  It puts a whole new light on what Paul says in Philippians 2:6-7, “…who though He was in the form of God (Not just the image of God, but God.)…emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in likeness of men.”  Given our history and the likeness of what we have become, I wonder, did Jesus not for a moment at least pause and think…should I go as a man or a lion?  Which conjures up more an image of nobility in your mind…a man or a lion?  Jesus took it a step further and came not just as a man, but as a servant.  Is servant the first thing that comes to my mind when I think, “God”?  What does that say about me?

How is God described by those who have seen Him?  Ezekiel attempts to describe what he saw with images of a human likeness with a waist of gleaming metal, fire and brightness everywhere, then ends with, “the appearance of the bow that is in the cloud on the day of rain”?  Clear enough?  John in Revelation 1, describes the One he sees as a son of man with a long robe and a gold sash, white hair like wool, eyes like flames of fire, feet like burnished bronze, a voice like roaring waters, a two-edged sword coming out of his mouth and his face shining like the sun at full strength.  Try to draw that.  Moses begged God to show him his glory and God’s response was to cover him with His had as He passed and to give Moses a view of His back.  I wonder what that looked like?  The quandary for each of these men is the same…how do you describe glory?  The posture for each when they saw Glory was also the same…they fell on their faces in fear.  What is my response to Glory when I see it, am I surprised by its diversity, its awe, its power, its brightness, its otherness?  Am I overwhelmed with humility, gratefulness, and awe?  Am I on my knees in wonder or do I stand with my finger raised, my head cocked to one side and say, “I don’t think You look like that.”  What does actually bring me to my knees?  What does that say about me?

When Moses cowered in the cleft of the rock, God graciously covered him with His hand.  When John, overcome with His glory fell “as though dead,” God reached out and touched him with his right hand.  Does it then seem strange at all that my wife’s gentle touch, a woman’s hand, would give me inklings of God’s touch and be the treasure to me that it is?  If not, what would that say about me?

The words of an old hymn come to mind…”Amazing love, how can it be, that thou my God would die for me.”  A God who was willing not just to confine Himself to the image of a servant man, but to die as a despised one in order that, as Paul says in Romans 8, my marred self might be conformed again to the image of His Son. Conformed to the image of His Son, what does that say about me?

Do you recognize the voice?

What would God say to an ordinary looking guy like this?  It might surprise you.  What happens when one listens to a Psalm rather than saying it?  I tried it this morning...it's like a glass of icy cool water on a parched day.  Find a quiet place, sit down, get comfortable, relax, imagine your face in the picture above and your name below where it says, "Jim", and listen.  Do you recognize the voice...it is pretty sweet, isn't it?

Psalm 139** 

Jim, I have searched you and known you!

I know when you sit down and when you get up;

I discern your thoughts from afar.

I search out your path and your lying down

and am acquainted with all your ways.

Even before a word is on your tongue,

guess what, Jim, I know it better than you do.

I hem you in, behind and in front,

and lay my hand upon you.

Such knowledge is too wonderful for you;

it is  so high; you cannot possibly attain it.

Where will you go from my Spirit?

Or where will you flee from my presence?

  If you ascend to heaven, I am there!

 If you make your bed in hell, I am there!

 If you take the wings of the morning

and dive into the deepest parts of the sea,

even there my hand will lead you,

and my right hand will hold you.

 If you say, “Surely the darkness shall cover me

and the light about me be night,”

I will say, “even the darkness is not dark to me;

the night is bright as the day,

for darkness is as light with me.”

 For I formed your inward parts;

I knitted you together in your mother's womb.

You can praise me, Jim, because you are fearfully and wonderfully made!

My works are wonderful; your soul knows it very well.

 Your frame was not hidden from me,

when you were being made in secret,

intricately woven in the depths of the earth.

My eyes saw your unformed substance;

in my book was written every detail of it,

I listed the days that were formed for you,

when they did not yet even exist.

How precious to you are my thoughts, Jim!

How vast is the sum of them!

If you would count them, they are more than the sand.

You awake, and you  are still with me.

 Oh, I will slay the wicked, Jim!

O men of blood, depart from, Jim!

Those men speak against me with malicious intent;

my enemies take my name in vain.

 Do you align yourself against those who hate me, Jim?

And do you oppose those who rise up against me?

 You wholeheartedly choose me over them;

You count them your enemies.

 I will search you, Jim, and know you heart!

I will try you and know your thoughts!

And I will see if there is any grievous way in you,

and I will lead you in the way everlasting!

**This is the unauthorized peasant James version.