Lent 4: Partial Images
/“We are all partial images . . .” Richard Rohr
There was once a show called, “Name that Tune.” Contestants would be given a note or two and had to see if they could recognize the song from which they came. Sometimes it was simple; other times it was close to impossible.
This morning, I’ve thought about playing the same game, not with songs but with artwork. What if we were given a glimpse of a few brushstrokes? Could we guess the painting from which they come? Certain paintings would be easy, others would be more difficult.
I’ve long known we were created in the image of God – every single one of us. We often forget it, and some people are easier to recognize as God’s image than others. It’s like we are all playing “Name that Image.” Each of us is a brushstroke or two and the hope is the larger painting will be recognizable through what partial image we offer the world. The thought is as inspirational as it is haunting. Do we offer God’s image to the people, places and things around us, or do we offer something, or someone, else? Can people and the world recognize God’s image through our words and actions? Can they see, though us, the larger image?
Sometimes it’s easy, other times it’s all but impossible to see God through us, but the remarkable thing is WE know when we’re being God’s image. Something inside of us, our heart or our soul, swells. It’s like we’ve taken a deep breadth of life, a big swig of living water. So, too, when we’re not our soul constricts and gasps for air. I think God designed it that way so we would know when we are being our true selves or not, when we are being living images or not. (We can see it when we are driving or checking out at the grocery store, when we are at work or play, when we are with loved ones or strangers, in a pew or voting booth.)
In this season of Lent, it’s a good time to look at our lives and consider what images we are bringing into the world. Although we’re only partial images, we’re enough. Who knows, someone might guess the larger painting just from seeing our brushstroke or two, and that, I believe, is why I think we were brought here.