Dailies: God disguised

Photograph by Andrew Montgomery

God comes to us disguised as our life.

Paula D’Arcy

In spiritual direction sessions with directees and living my life in general, this is a quote that is a constant companion. It has something to say about our daily living and our experiences. It is a guide in our relationship with God.

That said, I must confess that in my dealings with this quote, I often feel like St Augustine who, on a thorny Scriptural issue, once remarked, “If you do not ask me about it, I know what it is; if you ask me about it, I do not know.”

I know exactly what Paula D’Arcy is saying – if you don’t ask me what it is she is saying. On a deep level it comforts me, creates order in chaos. The moment I dress that understanding in words however, meaning somehow stumbles over its own feet.

It soothes and comforts because it says that God is coming towards me. Constantly. Never ending. Unstoppable. If you are alive, God comes towards you.

Fair enough. That was not so difficult.

But he comes disguised.

Why would someone disguise him or herself? When she does not want to be recognised. When he does not want to be conspicuous. Are any of these applicable to God? Does God not want to be recognised? Does he want to be inconspicuous? Although I get the impression that he is not the bells and whistles type, I don’t think that it is a matter of being deliberately under cover.

I am of the opinion that it is not God who is disguising himself. The disguising does not take place on God’s side. It happens on our side.

Can someone walk towards us, without any cover or disguise, without us recognising that person?

Yes, I think it can happen.

Explain.

Say I am standing in a queue, waiting to board a plane. People are moving all around me – this way and that, on escalators, in lifts, on their way to the different departure gates, in and out of shops and restaurants. A real hustle and bustle. Nobody is disguised. Well, somebody who wants to highjack the plane flying to Durban might be, but that’s another story and following that route will only lead us astray. We are talking the normal flow of things. Nobody is disguised, but nevertheless I do not recognise anybody.

All of a sudden somebody touches my arm. “George? George Angus?” Surprised I look at the middle aged woman coming to a halt next to me. Looking at my confused expression she realises she must help: “Mariette....? From Putfontein Primary...?” I look at her, smooth out the wrinkles around the eyes, make her face 12 years old, sprinkle the beginnings of a few teenage pimples onto it, make her short hair longer and darker, dress her in our school uniform. “Mariette who turned her book upside-down to write in it?” “That’s me!”

I would not have recognised Mariette, because I no longer know what she looks like. I would not have recognised her, because I never expected to meet her at the airport. I did not look for her.

“Disguised” in Paula D’Arcy’s quote could therefore be replaced by “not being recognised by us” or “not expected”.

“God comes to us all the time, dressed in our life, but we do not recognise him.”

I do not recognise him, because I am not quite sure what he looks like. I do not recognise him, because I never expected to see him in those clothes. Or to meet him at the airport. Or in the hospital ward. Or at the rugby game. Or in my dad’s confused thought processes. Or in the concerns at month end. Or in wealth. I do not recognise him because the thought never crossed my mind that my life can be the place where I can look for him. After all, it is too chaotic, dull, much of a mess, sinful. It is no church or cathedral.

Somehow we must grow in the ability to read God from the common fabric of our life. That’s where he is, coming towards us.

I could make the quote even shorter: “George...”

George