Many years ago, a rich widow who lived in New York City died. In her Last Will and Testament, she left all of her considerable estate to God. Her strange bequest gave rise to legal entanglements. In order to settle the estate, the lawyers in the case made doubly sure that all the proper procedures were followed precisely. They prepared a lawsuit that named God as one of the parties. A summons was issued, requiring God to file a legal response. The summons was delivered to the sheriff, whose responsibility it was to serve such papers. When the sheriff’s final report was delivered to the court, it read:
“After due and diligent search, it has been determined that God cannot be found in New York City.”
“God is love,” Scripture tells us. And sometimes we struggle to reach through to God as if He were far away, as if He were strange and hard to find. Sometimes we are so intent on our search that we pass Him by.
God is speaking to us with a thousand voices and revealing Himself in a thousand faces. Looking for God is like looking for the air when all the time we are breathing it all. It is like looking for the sun when all the time we are basking in it. Once we have truly come to recognize God as love, we do not call for Him and agonize for an answer. We see Him everywhere. We see Him looking at us from the eyes of mothers and fathers and sweethearts and wives and husbands and children and neighbors and friends and strangers too, and even enemies. We feel His Presence in every touch of a friendly hand. We hear His voice in every kind word. When we know that God is love, we find Him in every loving thought, word, and deed, and we are one with Him. When we know that God is love, we are never alone.
Freeman, J.D., “Love, Loved, Loving” (adapted)
The Big Picture
A woman who was experiencing a variety of emotional problems went to see a psychiatrist about her troubles: her inability to “find herself”; her inability to resolve the question of what her life was all about. “I want to know who I am and what I ought to be doing with my life,” she demanded. After listening to her lament, the psychiatrist wrote a prescription. “Don’t come back until you have used it up,” she said. When the pharmacist read the prescription, he said to the woman, “ I can’t fill this, but you can!”
The prescription read, “Spend one hour some Sunday watching the sunrise while walking in a cemetery.” She did and, in so doing, she got in touch with the big picture again.
