So, why am I telling you this?

Well, George Strait sings one song, “I Saw God Today” that captures the idea that I wanted to write about. The lyrics of the chorus are:

I’ve been to church
I’ve read the book
I know He’s here, but I don’t look
near as often as I should
Yeah, I know I should
His fingerprints are everywhere
I’d just slow down to stop and stare
opened my eyes and man I swear
I saw God today

This song came to mind as I’ve seen and heard the media covering the horrors from the earthquake in Haiti. The images broadcast around the world are tragic and disturbing scenes that we’ve come to expect from catastrophic movies. But this time it’s real. The level of human suffering and devastation is beyond comprehension for any who are not there and overwhelming for those who are.

But darkness and devastation are not the only things we’ve witnessed.

These stories of human tragedy are co-mingled with the stories of the Herculean efforts of so many medical and emergency responders from all over the globe. They’ve dropped everything and flew in from all points of the globe to rescue a tiny island in desperate need. They are tirelessly pouring themselves into the task of saving lives shattered by this earthquake.

What is so amazing is that even the darkest hours of human trauma cannot eclipse the radiance of the outpouring of compassion of these everyday heroes for these precious souls whose lives have been so savagely disrupted by pain and grief. Loss is everywhere. Yet, it’s against this grotesque backdrop of human suffering that the brilliance of the tenderness of God’s image in human compassion is center stage for all the world to see.

It’s the image of God in both the sufferer and the rescuer that binds us together (Gen. 1:26-27). Otherwise, compassion would make no sense. Why are our hearts moved with compassion? It’s the image of God still deeply embedded within the veil of every human heart. That’s why we long to soothe the sufferings of others. Whether one believes in God or not, doesn’t matter. The reality of God  is evident in this outpouring of tenderness and compassion for others that feels natural and good. And that kind of goodness can only be explained in terms of God.

It’s the reflection of God in us that necessitates that we can’t stand by and just watch the suffering. And for those who are followers of Christ Jesus, it’s the “love of Christ” that compels us (2 Cor. 5:14) and calls us to participate in rescuing the perishing and caring for the dying “because  in this world we are like Him” (1 John 4:17).

So what are you doing to reflect God in a world that desperately needs to “see Him?” Maybe you can’t go, but maybe you can help. How? Pray. And then give to an organization with feet at ground zero in Haiti that can make a difference so that people who need a reason to hope will “see God today.”

One of those groups it Baptist Haiti Mission. They have a hospital on their mission compound just outside of Port au Prince that’s been running 24/7 since the earthquake. Check them out at www.bhm.org and maybe others will “see God in you today.”

Honor guard

Honor. My mind flashed back 10 years to the images of a flag draped coffin with a military honor guard at a little country cemetery in West Michigan. Family friends had lost a son while serving on active duty in the Navy. What I witnessed that day brought tears to my eyes then and now as I remember the “honor” these fellow soldiers gave to a fallen one of their own.

What impressed me was the care, the time, the attention to detail, and the respect that the “honor guard” displayed not only for their lost brother in arms, but also for the family who had made the ultimate sacrifice of their son in the service of their country. The compassion, tenderness, respect, and strength that was given to the grieving family was nothing short of beautiful.

What still impresses me today is the obvious weightiness of an irreplaceable human being that this kind of honor demonstrates. Would that we honored one another in life like the military community honors one of their own in death.  We so easily forget that every soul carries weight. Why? Because we forget that we bear the image of the weighty God of the universe (Gen. 1:26-27). In the flurry of activities of our everyday lives and in the barrage of distractions that clamor for every scrap of our attention, we often forget the weight that we each bear. C. S. Lewis called it “the weight of glory.” Flawed as we all are, nevertheless, we are still marked by the weight of His glorious image.

I saw a flash of glory today in the honor given to a fallen soldier. It reminded me that we would all do well to take time each day to genuinely look one another in the eye and give each one that we meet–whether family, friend, or foe–the honor that is due to one who bears the immeasurable weight of our Creator’s glory–”For in him we live and move and have our being” (Acts 17:28).