38 He is God not of the dead, but of the living; for to him all of them are alive.”
“To him all of them are alive.” To him Anna still walks to school with flowers in her hair. To him Rebecca coos gently in her mother’s arms. To him Kenny still picks at that scab on his cheek as he stresses over his upcoming wedding. To him Nora still waits at the gate of her village home. To him Erik still pokes his fingers with rough love around the flowers that thrive in his garden. To him Jimmy still laughs his deep, joyful, guffaw. To him Kris still sits in his chair with handkerchief on his head and grins with delight as he slips Else the queen of spades as they contend with each other while playing Hearts with their grandchildren.
To him they are alive. To him they sing and dance and laugh. To him they live and love. To him, they are infused with an imperishable life. He is God of the living.
And to him we are alive. To him we drink from the fountain of the water of life. To him we share the water made wine at the wedding feast that has no end. To him the veil is lifted and all tears become tears of joy. To him we are without shadow or stain. To him we are clothed in robes of light.
To him we are a city on a hill, a lamp on a stand. To him we are living stones, a royal priesthood, children of the day. To him we are born from above.
Yes, he knows our wounds and our sorrows. Yes, he knows our fears and our failings. But we know the truth of this seeing – when we gaze upon our newborn for the first time, when we see our beloved with us at the altar – we know this seeing that sees only perfection. And we know that in that gaze all things are made whole and complete.
Under this gaze of perfect love the flaws and imperfections and shame we carry lose all hold over us. In this gaze we find true life.
+ + +
Originally posted to Watching for the Morning on November 10, 2013