Jesus said to him, ‘Have I been with you all this time, Philip, and you still do not know me?’

When I was a little girl, believing and trusting anyone and anything made sense. Being told that the Easter bunny laid all the chocolate eggs was believable. The tooth fairy was an acceptable explanation for the money under my pillow that replaced my baby teeth that fell out. It was plausible that Santa Claus, or Father Christmas, as we called him back home, brought all the presents we saw under the Christmas tree. Most notably, I believed, without a doubt, that God was present and that Jesus was not just the Son of God, but God the Son, even though I didn’t fully understand that mystery at a young age. I just believed; I never asked for proof. I prayed because I knew God was listening, which made me feel special. However, the older I got, I had more moments like Philip. I found myself asking God to show up and be visible so I may simply believe with vigor and passion again. When I prayed, I found myself saying, “Okay God, if you really heard me, make the lights blink twice or move my book from this end to that end of the table.” As silly as it sounds, I just wanted to believe again without a shadow of a doubt. I wanted to see God’s face. I wanted to know God was near. I wanted God to see me and know my name.

Believing and trusting are challenging in any relationship, but even more so when we cannot see or feel God’s presence palpably. We have all had difficult or painful life experiences when everyone tries to comfort us by saying, "Trust God….God is with us." However, we are still left wondering, aching, and waiting. Recognizing God when a mother loses her child to violence or illness is difficult. It is difficult to recognize God's presence when people we love are diagnosed with terminal illnesses. It is difficult to recognize God in wartime or a time of conflict. It is difficult to recognize the face of God in people who are cruel and unkind. It is difficult to recognize the face of God when we still live in a world that covers our eyes with fear and any injustice we can name. It is difficult to recognize God's face or see God's presence when our personal crosses or the cross of someone we love seems too heavy to bear; this is when God's silence becomes noticeable, and God's face becomes blurry and unrecognizable. It seems like it makes even more sense to say then, “Show us the Father, and that will be enough for us," just as Philip said to Jesus.

I am often told that I look just like my mother, that we smile the same way, we worry about the same things, we pray the same way, and we are both profoundly intuitive by nature. This used to upset me a little because I didn't want to be like anyone else; I didn't want to be mistaken for anyone else. However, I see now that it makes sense for people to see me in my mother and my mother in me because I am from my mother, and my mother is in me. My care for others and my work of choice allow others to see something of my parents in me. When people see us, may they also see from where we came and the image of the God who created us in our faces, our work, and how we treat each other.

Merciful and loving God, may we see you, recognize you, know you, and trust that you are always right in front of us. Amen.