The Gospel of John

Fig Trees Aren't Good Enough

"How do you know me?" Nathanael asked.
Jesus answered, "I saw you while you were still under the fig tree before Philip called you." (John 1:48 NIV)

It's the real question. How am I known? There's one behind that, too. Do I want to be known?

He was in the world, and though the world was made through him, the world did not recognize him. He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him. Yet to all who received him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God-- children born not of natural descent, nor of human decision or a husband's will, but born of God.
(John 1:10-13 NIV)

How does God know all of us? Each one, completely and truly, to the depths of the individual soul. How much of what he sees in there would I rather hide?

God's eyesight ranges the timelines from beginning to end. A billion billion fig trees aren't enough to hide us from him; my vaunted invisibility is an illusion. It works among people more because of willful blindness than anything else.

How does he know me? And why would he bother? The sight can't possibly be beautiful.

Maybe he sees things differently. Some people look at my sand sculptures and see only the flaws, of which there are plenty. Perfection is impossible and under the time pressure of one day, one man and one sculpture I have to choose how to balance time against precision. I could make a simple sculpture perfect, spend 10 hours polishing the shape so that there are no bumps nor disruptions of the curves. The result wouldn't be worth looking at. I prefer to make a complex sculpture that has some rough spots and then defocus my vision a bit so the flaws aren't so obvious.

Maybe God does the same thing. Maybe Jesus hides our known flaws. He knows they're there, but he chooses not to look at them but at the complex growing beauty behind them.

How much of my self-esteem comes from imaginary fig trees? I live in a thick forest. God's esteem of me comes from his truth. He knows! There are no secrets from the Maker of the Universe. His knowledge leads not to self-hatred but to something else I barely begin to understand.

Depression comes from not being able to feel anything. Truth leads to feeling everything, which makes for more truth. Feeling bad isn't the same as depression; that can lead to depression but the phenomenon is different. Feeling bad means I'm alive. Depression means I'm dying, although our world prefers to think of depression as an invitation to take drugs. Anything to
feel good.

There's something about being known by God that crowds out depression. Life is at least lively. Painful, yes, but at least I know I'm alive. It's far from the old-style never really knowing when one day ends and the next begins, year after year with nothing really mattering.

Jesus knows what's under every rock, inside every bulging closet. He knows me. And he still cares.

2005 January 26

posted by Larry @ 8:50 AM