Today I saw the face of God . . .

I am currently taking a course on the 14th century English mystic Julian of Norwich. One of the many requirements for the course is a project – practical or creative. As fulfillment of this requirement, one of my classmates designed a day long retreat focusing on themes present in Julian’s work. The retreat occurred today.

Although I would normally have already made the two hour drive back home (after spending four nights on campus) I decided to stay on campus for the day long retreat. Actually, I didn’t even hesitate when I heard it was happening. I simply signed up knowing that I needed to be there. Yes, I have mountains of papers to finish writing (five to be exact) , tons of reading and research to do, a final to prepare for and, yes, yet another creative project – all due at some point in the next two weeks. But, again, I knew I needed to be at the retreat – if only for some renewal and rejuvenation.

So, I went, I registered, I gathered with other attendees and we began the journey. For the most part the pattern of the day was the same – we were presented with something to reflect upon, we spent time reflecting and journaling, and then we shared our thoughts with the group if we felt so moved. Quite often discussions evolved as a result of participants building and reflecting upon the thoughts of others.

One of the themes that runs through Julian’s writing is the image not only of God as Father but also of God as Mother, of Jesus as our mother – of humanity being birthed by God’s never ending love for us. This was the first theme we explored. As part of the exploration we were told that God said to Julian (and says to us) . . .

I love you . . .
And, you love me . . .
And our love will never be divided in two.

What power, what holy liberating power there is in that simple statement. I love you. And you love me. And our love will never be divided in two. How many of us forget this? How many of us think ourselves unworthy of such love? Our homes, our churches, and our communities (local and global) are all filled with people longing to know such love. This is the line that people need to embroider on their hearts. Nothing, NOTHING will separate us from the love that God has for us. NOTHING will separate me from the love that God has for me. No matter how many times I may fall, or fail, God lifts me up, holds me, and repeats those simply powerful words. God does that for us all!

Wow! Such a short time into the retreat and already I am emotional, already I have so much to process. Thank goodness it was time for a break. The group headed out for refreshments, bathroom breaks and conversation. There were people who had known each other for years and people who had known each other for minutes. But conversations occurred until we gathered once again in silence.

When we returned we reflected on a passage from Julian’s revelations where God tells her:

I will make all things well,
I shall make all things well,
I may make all things well,
I can make all things well;
and you will see that yourself,
that all things will be well.

I first heard those words a couple years ago when I was introduced to Julian’s Showings and I remember, initially, thinking how trivial those words were. When another person would say such things my immediate reaction was to think “How can you say that? Don’t you know what I am going through? Don’t you know the pain I am feeling?” Which, of course, I knew the answer was “No!” Of course they can’t know. But reflecting on those words today (and throughout this semester) I realized that what Julian is sharing with humanity, sharing with me, is coming from God! God knows us to our core, God feels the pain we feel, and God comforts us in that pain. God reminds us that we are loved. It is not trivial. God came into humanity to walk with us. God suffered on the cross not because of us but so God could take suffering into God’s self. God tells us that all will be well because God knows it to be true. No, God can’t magically take away our financial struggles, God can’t write our papers for us, but God loves us as no one ever has or ever will.

And then it happened . . .

During our sharing time the woman sitting to my left began to share. She told the group how during the first part of the retreat she was feeling incredibly disconnected, feeling as if she were outside of the group. She was having a difficult time with the Mother images of God. She had been raised in a fundamentalist church so thinking of God in any way other than Father was extremely difficult. She shared with the group that when she went out to the break she was able to talk with a beautiful person (oh my goodness, her hand is on my shoulder) who was willing to openly, lovingly, honestly share her thoughts on language referring to God while also affirming the importance of people to find language that they are comfortable with. It’s all about being able to connect with God. During the conversation another beautiful person (who had not been privy to what was being discussed) came over, put her around her and asked the simple question “How are you?” She felt more connected. When we again gathered as a group and she heard the words all will be well she knew that God was speaking to her. And, at that moment, when she put her hand on my shoulder and looked into my eyes, I knew that God was speaking to me.

We are on a journey together, all of us. Whether we have met each other or not we are journeying together nonetheless. We are different, we are at different points on our faith journey, but we are on the same road. At times we may feel all alone but then the road curves and we are met by a fellow traveler who, without realizing it, gives us peace, comfort, and strength to carry on. We are all different but we have so much to offer each other, if we would only be vulnerable enough to share with one another, and especially be vulnerable enough to listen, to truly listen.

I consider myself to be an inclusive person – but to be truly inclusive means that I must include those with whom I disagree. God is radically inclusive. If I am truly created in the image of God (imago dei) then I too must live into that radical inclusivity. God (the triune God) is wrapping me with loving arms, drawing me in. But God isn’t only drawing me in, God is drawing everyone in - putting all of us together with all our differences and weaving the most beautiful tapestry. It is not complete without each and every one of us and all our differences.

So, here I sit, here I pray – thankful for God’s not so gentle reminder that I am called to share, I am called to listen, I am called to community, I am called to radical inclusivity. In that radical inclusivity I will learn, I will grow, I will heal. In that radical inclusivity I just may touch the life of another. In that radical inclusivity my life just may be touched by another. I can hold different views from someone and I can affirm the value of their thoughts. I can be in discussion, not with the purpose of change but with the purpose of understanding, with the purpose of joining someone on some point of their journey.

God works in mysterious ways. Sometimes we are transformed in the most unlikely of encounters. I hope and pray that we all remain open to the ways that God is speaking to us – and in those encounters we are reminded once more that we are loved, we are reminded that nothing will separate that love, we are reminded that all will be well, and we see God's face smiling back at us as we are joined on our journey.