Musing#8: God is everywhere: God is mystery

There are three pictures of God that I find helpful.

The first is God as water.  The nature of water: the way that it flows; the way that it can reach into the smallest of places; the way it is absorbed.  That reminds me of God.  Jesus talks of a spring of water that is inside us – that gushes up and brings life and joy.  And then there is the image of the water in the marshes – it rises up from the ground unseen, but when we switch on our awareness to it we find that it is growing and doing its work.

The second is God as light.  Light helps people to see.  The smallest light in a dark place will have an impact: the blindness the dark brings is broken as grey edges are revealed.  Light brings clarity, warmth and comfort. That reminds me of God.  And then there is the way that light reveals beauty: whether it be in the sunrise; as it shines through a stained-glass window; as it brings the colour in the natural world alive. 

The third is God as breath.  The very air we breathe.  Keeping us alive and enabling us to do all that we do.  There are times when we find ourselves literally gasping for air.  There are other times when the gentle rhythm of breathing can lull us into a spiritual moment: from the sleeping child, to the ‘dying’ breaths of a loved one.  That reminds me of God.  Jesus appeared to his followers and breathed on them, saying, “peace be with you”.  Our breath can teach us about God.

Then one day, musing on these pictures of God, a realisation.  How had I not thought of this before. God is so much bigger, so much more present, than these pictures can portray, because…

God is not only found in water but also in the desert; in the parched places.  In the book of Genesis we find the story of Hagar who runs away to the wilderness where there is no water.  In this place God finds Hagar: sees her, recognises her and sustains her.  In our ‘desert places’ God finds us: sees us; recognises us and sustains us.  He finds us where there is no water to refresh us and gives us what we need.

God is not only found in light but also in darkness.  Darkness is often used as a metaphor for times when God seems absent.  These times can feel ‘dark’: it can be difficult to see the way forward. Things come crashing down on us and we feel alone.  The writer of Psalm 40 describes this as being in a pit. But God is present in this darkness – in the pit: he has not gone anywhere.

And – this is a gut feeling – God is not only found in breath but in the lack of it.  Something in me feels sure that in the literal nothingness of a vacuum we will find the essence of God.  And when our loved one takes their final breath, that is not only the end of something but also a beginning: a step into something new.  God is there in his own absence.

And so these words in Psalm 139 make complete sense:

Where can I go from your spirit?

Where can I flee from your presence?

If I go up to the heavens, you are there;

if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.

If I rise on the wings of the dawn,

if I settle on the far side of the sea,

even there your hand will guide me,

your right hand will hold me fast.

If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me

And the light become night around me,”

Even the darkness will not be dark to you;

The night will shine like the day,

For darkness is as light to you.

God is everywhere and in everything.  That is what God longs for us to know, so that he can reach out to us and into us.

Then another question; another realisation.

Is God the water? No.  Is he the light or the breath? No.  Is he the desert, the darkness or the nothingness? No, no, no.

All these are metaphor.  They help us to understand and perceive God, yet God is beyond our understanding and our ability to perceive.  We get snatches; we catch glimpses, but God is mystery.  He stays beyond our control; outside of our boxes; free from taglines and soundbites.  Closer to us than we are to ourselves; infinite and infinitesimal; beckoning to us in silence.  Metaphors help but they are not Love.

God is the mystery that holds us, and whose only requirement of us is that we let ourselves be held.

 

Photo by Karolina Kolodziejzczak on Unsplash