Seeking the face of God

When we look at a portrait that has been painted or created in someone’s likeness, we seem to be able to tell if it’s not quite right. If I’m painting an icon, for example, I always leave the faces until the end because they terrify me! So much is captured within the contours of the face, so much detail which, with one slip of the brush, or one off’ colour it can all go wrong! Either the left eye is a little too big, of the nose is too long, or even if all the anatomical features are correct, it could still feel as though it is lacking something. But on the other hand, if it is a good likeness, we seem to bypass these physical features and say things like “ah, you’ve really captured them there”, or “yes, you’ve caught their likeness perfectly”. The image of their face speaks to us of their likeness, their personality. I think it speaks to us at a much deeper level than just appearance, their presence. I think that’s why we can tell immediately if something is not right. It’s not just a case of ‘Jim’s nose isn’t that big really’, but more that the image hasn’t quite captured a true sense of who Jim is.

Why am I rambling on about inaccurate portraits of Jim, you may ask? And how can we speak of searching for the face of God, when God is truly beyond anything that we could ever imagine of God? I think we must think of this searching for the face of God as simply a searching for the presence of God. It is a turning to face the portrait of our lives to examine, where is God? But also, being aware that our hearts will always be searching for the presence of God for God dwells in the very centre of every heart. 

The psalmist writes

Of you my heart has spoken:

“Seek God’s face.”

It is your face, O Lord that I seek,

Hide not your face’ (Psalm 26:8-9)

Maybe the psalmist’s experience, or crying out, tells us that our searching for God is not simply something which is done in those conscious moments of prayer. But instead, it is the heart constantly crying out to the presence of God. Or as St. Paul would say, it is the soul groaning, crying out to God. It seems to be too that the psalmist has realised what their heart desires and has spoken it aloud. It may seem like nothing but to speak allowed what is moving in our hearts can be so powerful. To digress slightly, it is, I think, a beautiful and essential part of Lectio Divina. When we share those words or phrases that have moved us. It is that connection between what our hearts are saying, and the reality, the presence moment which we find ourselves. Awareness and presence – God and our heart.

It may feel at time as though God is hidden, and that God’s face can no longer be seen. But can this truly be the case? And I think St. Theresa of Jesus (Ávila) helps us. She tells us that the doorway to the Interior castle, the doorway to a profound awareness of the presence of God in our lives, is the meditation on the face of Christ.

It is no surprise then that in our desire to seek the face of God, we turn to Christ. God who became like us so that, through the Son and the guidance of the Holy Spirit, we might glimpse the Father. The great challenge then, in meditating on the face of Christ, however, is that we will find it in the places we least expect. In those places that we would often rather not think about, Christ is there. In those in whom society tells us are not worthy of our attention, Christ is there. In those who ask for our help, those lost or forgotten, Christ is there if we but turn our attention to Him.

Seeking the face of God then can’t be a uniquely inward journey. For in our awareness of God’s living presence within ourselves, we must look outwards for that presence in others. Our challenge then, I think, is to avoid looking at others as if they are an inaccurate portrait of the divine. But instead to look beyond appearances ‘for the Lord does not see as mortals see; they look on the outward appearance’ but to look as the Lord does. That is, ‘on the heart’ (1 Samuel 16:7).

And so, we too, in seeking the face of God, must seek it not only in ourselves, but in the hearts of all.

Br Matthew Janvier O.Carm

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