Where do we find God?

Paul Walton
23 September 2003

Where do we find God? Ask anyone, and they’ll very likely say that they’d encounter God when they experience beauty—in the wonder of a sunset, or a flower in bloom, or a newborn child. And they may feel the presence of God in experiences of awe—perhaps looking out from the window of an aeroplane, or gazing at the immensity of the sea. The psalm writer says,

The heavens are telling the glory of God;
and the firmament proclaims God’s praise.

And also,

O Lord, our Sovereign,
how majestic is your name in all the earth! …

When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers,
what are human beings that you are mindful of them,
mortals that you care for them? …

Of course, God is there all the time—but we can feel God’s presence at some times more than others.

Where else do we find God? If you are used to listening in Church, and you listened to my question, then you may have guessed that the answer is the same as the answer to every question asked in Church. Have you heard of the story about a Sunday School teacher who asks her class: ‘What is furry, grey, and eats gum leaves?’ One little boy raises his hand and said, ‘I know the answer is Jesus, but it sounds more like a koala to me!’

Where do we find God?—Jesus is the answer. But Jesus isn’t pointing us to beautiful sunsets and rolling waves going on for ever; that doesn’t mean we can’t see God there, but it may mean that we can look elsewhere for even surer signs of God with us.

In today’s Gospel reading, it’s a normal day for Jesus—he is having trouble with the disciples. Again. Nothing much has changed in 2000 years! Jesus is trying to teach the disciples that trouble is coming for him—and for them. He says, ‘The Son of Man is to be betrayed into human hands, and they will kill him, and three days after being killed he will rise again.’

They are too scared to ask what that means. I would be too. But the disciples are so far off the mark that they end up arguing amongst themselves about who is the greatest. And they can’t tell Jesus about that, either. Shame, or fear, or both, keep them from talking to him.

What does Jesus do? How does he teach people whose major concern is their own position, their own wellbeing, about where to find God? How can he help people whose main religious preoccupation is what God can do for them? How can such people find God? They’d look at a sunset and see a red ball. No more. Where can they find God?

Jesus brings a child into the circle. Not because this child was cute, and not because children have faith. Jesus did it because a child was the least, not the greatest. At that time, children had no importance whatsoever. If children have a different place in our lives today, it is at least partly due to the influence of the Christian faith.

Jesus goes further than just using a child as an object lesson. He says, ‘Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.’ Jesus is saying that God is there in the powerless. It is much less certain that God is in our ambition, in our desire to be noticed, to be one of the people that matter. We all take notice of such people; but Jesus brings a child into our midst, and asks us to look.

Jesus identifies himself with the child—little, unnoticed, insignificant. Even more than that—Jesus even identifies God with the powerlessness of a child.

How is that? Is that the way we think of God? We might look for God in displays of power. When Jesus invites us to look for the presence of God, he invites us to look in a very unlikely place indeed. It reminds me of the Old Testament story of Elijah, looking for God from the mouth of the cave: God was not in the earthquake, the wind, or the fire; God was in ‘a still, small voice’ (KJV), in ‘the sound of sheer silence’ (NRSV). How often do we look for God in the awe of silence? Once a week for ten minutes, or at other times too?

Jesus chooses a child as a sign of where to find God. William Barclay says in his Commentary on Mark (slightly altered for inclusivity):

Jesus took a child and set her in the midst. Now, a child has no influence at all. A child cannot advance our career, nor enhance our prestige. A child cannot give us things; it’s the other way around. A child needs things. Children must have things done for them. And so Jesus is saying, ‘If you welcome the poor, ordinary people, the people who have no influence, and no wealth, and no power, the people who need things done for them, then you are welcoming me. And more than that, you are welcoming God.’ The child is typical of the person who needs things, and it is the society of the person who needs things that we must seek.
Where is Jesus saying that we may find God? We find God in caring for those who need our care. Jesus brought this insight to life in the way he cared for others. Jesus fully identified himself with the lowest and the least. In the Parable of the Sheep and the Goats he says: ‘Inasmuch as you have done it for the least of these, you have done it for me’. We meet Jesus when we meet those in need.

An American politician, William E. Simon, once answered the question, ‘How can I find God?’ like this:

On one occasion, I was visiting a young man who was dying of AIDS. His body was painfully thin, racked with pain. As we prayed together, I looked down on this poor soul and remembered Christ’s words—‘Whatsoever you do to the least of my brethren, you have done for me.’
I’ve thought about that moment several times since. And I realize that I was not just looking into the face of that young man—I was looking directly into the eyes of Christ.

People who are in need are on the edge of things; but Jesus places them in the centre of the community of disciples. Their needs are paramount. In fact, the Church of Jesus Christ might well define itself by whether those in need are helped by it, or hurt. It might do that because Jesus is present in such people, and when they are at the centre of the Church’s life, Jesus is at the centre.

One more thing: each one of us is sometimes the one in need. We then find God in the help of another. For some of us, it can be harder to receive help than to give it. We are then like the child who Jesus brings into the centre; yet we don't want to be brought into the centre when we are needy—we’d rather be strong, and self-sufficient.

Where do we find God? In Jesus Christ. Where do we find Jesus? In those he calls us to help; in those who help us.

We don’t always find God in easy places. Sometimes, caring for others can be exhausting. People talk about ‘compassion fatigue’. We get too much information from the TV news. The problems are too big. We forget the ‘helper’s high’, the buzz we get from helping others.

At times, we want God to wave a magic wand, or at least a big stick, and we wonder why he doesn’t. But God is there with those who need help—God is there with us when we need help. God is with the powerless. As those who are able extend their care, and as the little, the unnoticed, the insignificant, are enabled to have a voice, we enter a place in which we find God there with us. Amen.

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