Human beings are not the first thing that I think about when I celebrate the glory of God. They are tricky and messy and too much gets in the way. In contrast, I find it really easy to connect with God’s glory in sunsets and countryside and coasts. And then there are all those worship songs that go on about nature and the glory of God in trees and galaxies and mountains. And all the powerpoints with waterfalls. Christians love those. Mad for a powerpoint slide with a waterfall.
Of course, the glory of God is in nature. But increasingly, I can’t escape the fact that the New Testament has next to nothing to say about that.
Instead, it can’t speak enough about the glory of God on humankind.
God’s glory is displayed in the most everyday person I know, far more than it is in nature. If I was to be harsh, I’d say that when I celebrate God’s glory what I’m sometimes doing is escaping into nature, shying away from the person on the street who God rejoices in far more than a sparrow. Scripture might respond to me and say while it’s easy to get too lost in glorifying nature, it’s far harder to think too much about the glory on my neighbours. When we champion our friends and their lives and their great parts and dumb parts, that’s something more glorious than a thousand sunsets. As we do this for difficult people too, we’re doing something truly profound.
To be honest though it’s just much harder to celebrate the glory of God in a human being. It’s harder to know where to start. Look at a sunset, smash out an insta, stick a proverb on it, you’re done. But human beings don’t resolve as easily as a nature photograph.
There’s a story that helps me here, about this priest in Arizona.
Mark Yaconelli talks about a time when he met the priest, Father Vitale, in prison – Vitale been arrested for protesting state torture policies, and had just come out of solitary confinement. Yaconelli watched the priest try again and again to connect with those around him, struggling to find something to like, something that would release empathy. These people were, in some cases, mass murderers and psychopaths. Yet he made it a mission to always find something to love and celebrate in them.
One prisoner in particular had murdered his stepfather in a horrible way. Yaconelli recounted how that inmate would shout and scream all night, All the inmates wanted to kill him.
Father Vitale told Yaconelli, “If I stand on my bed, I can just see into the top of his cell. I can see his television set. The other night, about two in the morning, it was quiet. I couldn’t sleep. I stood on my bed and looked over and could see that this guy had this television on. I could just see the top of his head. He was standing watching a documentary on the Egyprian pyramids.” Vitale paused and smiled. “Now, you just gotta have a soft spot for a guy like that.”
That’s a bit mad, but something tells me God was invested in Father Vitale’s mission.
It’s obvious that Vitale was onto something. He knew the awkwardness that came with looking for the best in others (and actually, not just to look for the best in them, but to prefer the best in them). But he knew it was worth investing in it anyway. The only thing that can keep you doing that – even around mass murderers – has to be a wild, ridiculous conviction that the glory of God is somewhere searchable in *every* *single* person.
That even the most dangerous person you meet is an opportunity to celebrate the thing God prizes above everything else. That’s beyond me.
We have such a journey ahead of us to grow in love and acceptance of others. but God is invested in it.
Recently it feels like every time I look to connect with God’s heart, he points me towards my neighbours. I’m surprised by God’s capacity to point away from himself. I’m surprised by how much he places his glory on others. Others who are far more difficult than a good view or a nice sunset. If I was God I’d throw all my majesty into a sick looking galaxy or something – but I think it’s not his perspective that needs changing, it’s mine.