One of our deepest and strongest desires as humans is to know God and be known by God. This is true in both a subjective sense and in an objective sense: I deeply and strongly desire a relationship with God and I desire a deep and strong relationship with God.
The desire to know God and be known by God lies deep within a person, beneath layers of other desires including the desire to know other people and be known by them, the desire to protect a sense of self, and the desire to be viewed positively by others. And our desire to know God and be known by God is strong because it won’t go away; we can ignore it or can cover it over, but it persist. It is also strong because it empowers other desires on other levels; the desire for respect finds its strength in the deeper desire to be known by God.
As we desire a strong relationship with God, we want that relationship to endure thorough good times and bad. We want it to persist even when we are apathetic or unfaithful. And we want our relationship with God to empower us, in our relationships with others and in our life in the world. A relationship with God seeks depth. We want to know the depths of God, and for God to know us in the depths of our being; no masks, no facades. (This desire persists in spite of the fear this kind of relationship stirs up.)
We deeply and strongly desire a deep and strong relationship with God.
Sometimes we settle for a lot less. I was reminded of this when I read through notes for a sermon I preached many years ago. The notes read, “not a simplifying explanation but an enlarging revelation.” When seeking to know God we sometimes settle for a simplifying explanation. We accept some sort of a definition for the question, “Who is God?” There are a myriad of answers to that question, religious and areligious, orthodox and non-orthodox. Some of these answers about who God is are broader and more encompassing than others, but they all fall short. No understanding which explains God is any match for even the the quickest and haziest of meetings with God.
The truth will never be complete
in any mind or time. It will never
be reduced to an explanation. —Wendell Berry
In our depths, none of us will ever be truly satisfied with an explanation of who God is. What we need is a revelation of God.
As for me, I am not satisfied with the revelation of God I have received so far. I stand together with the apostle Paul, “For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known.” (1 Corinthians 13:12) I know enough to not settle for explanation. So I look for a clearer and more lasting revelation in this life even as I hope for that complete revelation in the next.
This week I discovered, not a new revelation, but a new perspective on revelation, a new perspective on knowing God and having God know me. Aside from focusing on the duration of revelation (quick) or the clarity of revelation (hazy), I am finding it helpful to focus on distance. I was led into this new perspective by an insight of Rebecca Solnit found in A Field Guide to Getting Lost:
We treat desire as a problem to be solved, address what desire is for and focus on that something and how to acquire it rather than on the nature and the sensation of desire, though often it is the distance between us and the object of desire that fills the space in between with the blue of longing. I wonder sometimes whether with a slight adjustment of perspective it could be cherished as a sensation on its own terms, since it is as inherent to the human condition as blue is to distance? If you can look across the distance without wanting to close it up, if you can own your longing in the same way that you own the beauty of that blue that can never be possessed?
Viewing the partial revelation I have received in the light of distance (the blue light of distant mountains or distant sky) adds a beauty to the partiality (for my fellow haiku poets, this is a feeling of wabi-sabi). There is something pleasant and satisfying about the incompleteness of my knowing God.
Resting in the beauty of a distant revelation, I am now less likely to settle for explanations and more committed to the goal of knowing God, not just knowing about God.
