God with a Face - a Christmas Story

Your image of God creates—or defeats you. There is an absolute connection between how we see God and how we see ourselves and the universe...God is Reality with a Face—which is the only way most humans know how to relate to anything. There has to be a face! -Richard Rohr

We have moved into the Christian Church Calendar season of Advent, the four weeks that lead up to Christmas which, alongside Easter, are remembered and celebrated as being main events in the larger scheme of things concerning the life and times of the historical Jesus of Nazareth. From the Angels annunciation to his mother Mary, a journey through the wilderness under the watchful eye of a bright night star, to his birth in a dirty old stable, the story culminates in the giving of gifts to this new baby-king by wise men who have heard of his coming and have taken the camel-back cross-country ride to see for themselves. And there they gaze into the face of a baby, the first and most precious iteration of what a human being looks like, and they worship him as a King, but not one who will wear a crown of gold.

For some it’s the stuff of fairy stories, for others the hope that life is pinned on.

It’s a beautiful story and in the tradition of Advent, one that centres around Hope, Joy, Peace and Love, ways of being that can anchor us also in our own human story. If we could just allow these things to be wrapped around the centre piece which is the Christ, the incarnate God, the one with a face, and let them have their way with us we may, (even though temporarily like the seasons that come and go) be able to be still and rest in this season. 

The power of Advent and Christmas has somehow been watered down in the midst of our insatiable consumerism and in disguising the weight of the story in wrapping paper and tinsel.  Easter with the horrific execution of Jesus, followed by his glorious resurrection has tended to be at the centre of the story because of the idea of Salvation which in the majority christian perspective has been the main point of it all. Yet surely the arrival of God to live amongst us is equally as important to our human story.

‘There is an ancient Celtic belief that salvation happened primarily through the incarnation rather than the crucifixion. It was the bringing together of heaven and earth, spirit and matter, creator and creation that healed the world….the world was out of balance, and the incarnation restored balance.’- Justin Coutts

Do you think much about this season in the light of Incarnation, this idea that the God of the Universe (in this context, lest we forget about the natural world)  was somehow squeezed into a physical human frame, experiencing everything pertaining to human life? Thirty three years doesn’t seem long to get the job done. They say life begins at 40, and I’ve heard it said that a person has nothing to say (worth listening to anyway) until they are 50! Yet here we find Jesus of Nazareth living a fairly short life, where most the drama unfolds in his final 3 years. Why did God need to take on human form, as the story goes? 

Throughout much of my younger years the answer to that question was loaded with a sense of guilt and shame as I was convinced that it was because of my inherent sin, my need for a Saviour and forgiveness for being me. God, who was in Heaven could no longer stand the bad behaviour of people, so his son Jesus was sent to pay the price, a sacrifice to atone for the sins of humanity once and for all. And if I could acknowledge and accept my fallenness and give my life over to God I would be saved (that is I would go to heaven when I die and live for eternity there). It sounded lovely, and I of course was very keen to share in that wonderful utopia. It was like a fairy tale with a great ending that captured my heart and imagination as a young child. The problem was that this story-line painted a picture of an angry and punitive God, keeping me locked in a paradigm of not knowing whether I was safe in the universe, depending on my behaviour on any given day, even though one of the names for God was Love.  Of course this was supported and rubber stamped by the Church’s doctrine of ‘original sin’ that went something like this;  

I, at birth, as a baby was born into a world of sin, and just by nature of the fact that I belonged to the human race meant that I too was a sinner and inherited a black mark against me that could only be erased by accepting this Saviour, Jesus. It only takes a gaze into the eyes of a newborn baby to question if this idea of original sin is the truth? What if we are endowed with original ‘goodness’, and that the idea of original sin was a cruel trick, an invention by those who wanted power over others to keep them always wondering if they have done enough to deserve this gift of eternal life; a doctrine set in stone by the Church, used as a tool (or a weapon) to keep the faithful in their pews. 

Rather, what if the purpose of the incarnation of God was to show me what kind of human I actually am, at my core, how this great teacher emulated and showed me who I can be based on my original design of ‘goodness’. Did God become flesh to give me a ticket off the planet or to show me how to live as part of it, with love, mercy and justice as my guides. I don’t need a set of obscure and frightening rules to whip me into shape, rather a kind and loving exemplar who I can gladly follow (albeit a challenge much of the time).

I know this is nothing new for many of you who may be reading and we are, fortunately, down the track a bit in the evolving of our belief systems. But I think it’s worth revisiting, especially in this particular season, as a reminder amidst the distractions.

Richard Rohr introduced me to the idea that ‘my image of God creates me’. Twice recently in conversation I have been reminded of this saying. How I perceive God, or what my image of God is naturally and consequently creates my image of myself, and others. If I see myself as being a ‘sinner in need of a saviour’ then I will stay locked in a prison of guilt and shame, always wondering and never quite sure based on the frequency of my ‘slip ups.’ I will probably keep you there too.

It’s nothing more than a religious paradigm of hard work, fear and not a little anxiety.

But if I embrace my original design where goodness and love is at my core, then my life takes on another possibility, one where I am offered (and I can offer you in turn) self respect and compassion. Rather than be filled with uncertainty, even in uncertain times I can trust that I am hard wired to flourish. Do I need to know what’s on the ‘other side’ to motivate me to live well and be a good human? Not if I am true to myself and that of my Creator, imaged in the life of Jesus of Nazareth. Here is where fear dissipates.

So this God with a face, quite like yours and mine came and lived for a short time amongst us; we are like God.  And the invitations of Advent and Christmas; hope, joy, peace and love somehow take on new meaning and make more sense, to me anyway. These are ways of being that I don’t have to work to attain, rather recognise that they already exist within me.  My task is to choose to recognise God, who has been with, and within me from the very beginning, to wake up to the goodness that lies at my core, and to allow my life to unfold as it is designed to do. This is the kind of invitation I can accept.

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