Let No One Tell You Who God Is Until You’ve Met Him

I’m sure we’ve all met someone whose personality or life entirely contradicts what we’ve been told or led to believe about them. Or perhaps we learn something about someone that explains a behavior or attitude we previously thought was a flaw or a conscious choice. These realizations can be jarring, especially if you’ve allowed your opinions to be molded by people close to you or who seem trustworthy.

I believe it is important to acknowledge that people are justifiably cautious or incredulous of God, especially as He is portrayed in certain parts of Sacred Scripture. Many of us have heard people base or justify their unbelief on the violence, cruelty, or numerous (and often bizarre) rules and laws of the Old Testament.

These can be difficult things to argue with. Perhaps our knowledge of Scripture is insufficient. Maybe we hear someone’s objections and, caught off guard, think, “Yeah… that does sound bad.” We want to point people to the Good News of salvation, of Christ's redemptive and restorative work. We want to say, “But John says God is love!” Yet while we mean well, our answers too often feel one-dimensional.

If you’ve ever tried to buy a present for someone you don’t know very well, you understand that your lack of intimate knowledge of the person necessitates using fairly broad and generic criteria to select a gift. It feels a bit like the 20 Questions game:

“Is this a baby, child, teen, or adult? Boy or girl, man or woman? Do they like plants, animals, food? Maybe a gift card…”

Try as we might to be selfless or intentional, we often end up choosing a gift while subconsciously looking into a mirror—we know what we would like or not like, and those preferences weigh on our decision. The result is a gift that is impersonal on almost every level.

There are people in your pew who have a “gift card” relationship with God, and there are plenty more outside the doors of your Church. People who think they know who God is because of some moderate contact with Scripture in their youth, a summer church camp, or because they show up every Sunday. A few misunderstood or poorly spoken words from a priest or pastor, a negative encounter with street evangelists, or a hard-hearted relative wearing a cross around their neck have been enough for them to justify keeping God at arm’s length. This lack of intimacy makes it all too easy to make inaccurate judgments about God, and in the absence of authentic knowledge, people will make Him in their image.

In John 14:6, Jesus tells us that no one comes to the Father but by Him. We typically view this verse in light of salvation and the reality that Jesus is more than a prophet, more than an enlightened rabbi, but Truth itself—or, as St. Paul tells us, the very Wisdom of God. Yet Christ is also telling all people that their relationship with and knowledge of the Father begins with Him.

It would not be a stretch to imagine (with reverence) the Apostles finding themselves in situations where the only sufficient excuse for the words or actions of their Teacher was, “You just don’t know Him the way I do.” The Gospels recount many instances where Christ is looked at suspiciously or accused of heresy, sorcery, etc. And while we know the truth—that He is who He says He is and came to do what the prophets foretold—these accusations require answers beyond citations from Isaiah.

When Peter makes his bold confession, he is not only affirming that all the voices of his ancestors had spoken of that historical moment. He is not merely stating a theological fact. He did not lean on his own understanding, working out the truth of the Rabbi via logical proofs or arguments. Both the source and merit of his confession are the fruits of his intimate relationship with Jesus, and his profession is as organic in that moment as if someone had asked him what time of day was best to set sail and cast nets for fish.

Peter’s simple profession conceals a complex and dynamic reality—one that can, as people who have authentically encountered the Lord know, be difficult to express. How do you “give” another person those graces bestowed on you in prayer or in the interior quiet after receiving Communion? How can you explain, in words, the type of thoughts and feelings or physical sensations someone like Moses or Zechariah experienced when they beheld their respective theophanies? How do we verbalize the transcendent?

Authentic discipleship begins with and is sustained by encountering Jesus in a real way. What we are talking about is a relationship, and none of us can accomplish that work for someone else; I cannot give you my relationship with Jesus. When we are met with family or friends who are holding God at arm’s length, we must look past their intellectual or theological hang-ups and see in their heart the doubt of St. Thomas and, rather than harden our hearts, point them toward the wounds of Christ and say, “He is risen. Go and see for yourself.”

This is the feeding of the lambs. This is the way the Gospel and Christ’s Holy Church not only survived but thrived under severe and violent persecution—not by a sword of iron but by that which pierces the heart. It is not the “New Evangelization,” but the only Evangelization.

No matter the complaint, excuse, or accusation keeping someone from Christ, our answer must come in the form of an introduction.

If our brother is weary, we bring him to the Teacher whose burden is light.
If our sister is condemned, we bring her to the Lord who came not to call the righteous but the sinner.
If our neighbor is angry, we introduce him to the Prince of Peace.

When our faith is grounded and guided by Encounter, we will organically point all people toward the Crucified so that they, too, may one day say with St. Peter, “You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God.” For as St. Paul says, “every tongue will confess that Jesus Christ is Lord.”