Image of God

“What is your image of God?” Answers to this question give me great insights into people’s spirituality. Some have images that seem as if they flow from a cartoon. Others tell of images that sound ominous, far away or unapproachable. Still others have a best friend or pal image.

 Over the last years, my own image has been that most represented by a warm breeze. I’ve like the faceless, mystical motion of such an image.

 During an exercise led by one of our CERT School participants this week we were asked to write a letter to ourselves, addressed from God. My pen flowed more easily than I expected. Such a human task as letter writing did not seem to fit my wind image. My God image needed a face.

 The Appalachian carpenter who I met at least a dozen years ago, a real person, but has become a source of my own story telling mythology surprisingly surfaced in my mind.  Mid sixties, white beard, a warn and harsh exterior, complete with a beat up sweaty stained felt hat, but also very kind eyes that seemed somewhat sad but also gave a sense a knowing described this man.

 During a service project in the Kentucky back country, the Appalachian man, was quiet and to himself, working on his own project. Periodically he would help someone hold their hammer differently, or help hold a board being sawed. Day-2 of our project he told me he wrote poetry, surprised by this, I invited him to bring some out the next day.

 Day-3, lunch time, coal trucks rumbling up a nearby mountain road, he read his works out of a three ring binder. On the left hand side was written an observation. Just a line or two describing something he had witnessed or sensed about people. The right side flowed a poem. Some funny, some deeply revealing insights, some sacred, some in mountain speak, and others in very good English prose. This man was well educated! He had not always lived in the midst of hidden mountains.

 “Yep,” he said, “I’ve always been good at observin’.” With that he looked into the eyes of each person of our group and told each the things he saw and believed about us. Our kids were each deeply touched. When he came to me he said, “Sir, you will never be happy unless you are making a difference in someone’s life.” --- !!! It felt like this man could see into our hearts and souls.

 Certainly my memory has created him into a figure of legend. It is the legend memory that helps me understand God this week. I can visualize this old carpenter walking with me, jogging along side of me, sitting down to listen to me, and… I don’t want to be overly mystical about this… but, understand this form as one that can speak back to me, that can see into my heart and soul, observing and reflecting the words I need to hear.