He Shows Us the Face of God

He was four years old,
elbows pressed tight
to a preschool table,
drawing with the focus
of someone who had seen a vision.

When the teacher leaned over
and asked what he was drawing,
he didn't look up.

"A picture of God," he said.

"But nobody knows
what God looks like," she replied
with a smile.

"They will when I'm done,"
he insisted.

God in crayon.

I admire the courage.
But no sketch can hold
what burns too bright.
Try capturing
the sun in a bottle —
or the wind between your fingers —
or the infinite
through a peephole.

We all draw God in fragments.
In childhood dreams,
in unspoken fears,
in the shape of our wounds
and the lessons they taught us.

But each image
is stained with us.
Too small.
Too safe.
Too dangerous.
Too familiar.

That's what makes Jesus' claim
feel impossible:

"Anyone who has seen me
has seen the Father."
(John 14:9)

How dare He say that.
Unless it's true.

Because if you've seen Jesus
welcoming the shamed,
stooping to the broken,
weeping at the grave,
bleeding for the guilty —
then you've seen God.

Not distant.
Not abstract.
But near enough to touch.
God with a pulse.
God with tears.

You may not know this about Jesus:
He doesn't point to God
from afar.
He walks toward you
as the face you've been
trying to draw.