Face to Face

I lost a friend this morning-- Glenn Strohl. He was one of my cancer buddies from the Facebook group Mantle Cell Lymphoma: The Journey. We didn't know each other in person but we talked a lot on a group zoom meeting awhile back about books a couple of our members had written. I shared the story of the 18th century Moravian missionaries selling themselves into slavery as indentured servants to get to the new world to preach the Gospel. God reminded me of that story when I was fearful of doing the Stem Cell Transplant, and then spoke quietly to my heart saying "You can do this for me." As I shared about this on the zoom meeting, Glenn brightened up and shared how he was a graduate of Moravian College in Bethlehem Pennsylvania. The Moravians were part of Glenn's spiritual heritage, and we both thought this additional connection between us was pretty cool!

Glenn and I eventually became Facebook friends and messaged each other from time to time. The last time we chatted was last week, when I was awake in the night and pinged him on the 3AM club. Many of in the group us are on steroids and awake in the middle of the night. Others live in Australia and Saudi Arabia, so it is mid-day for them. We chat in the night, and call it the 3:00 am club. For me, I think this is probably my favorite part of being in the group-- the middle of the night camaraderie when our spouses and day-time friends are enjoying the luxury of sleep. Last night, I was awake briefly at 2:30, and considered checking in with the 3:00 AM club, but decided to put down my phone and go back to sleep. Sleeping is important, you know! I regret that now. I don't know if Glenn was online this morning when I was up, but I wish now that I had sacrificed sleep and checked on him.

As I think back to that zoom meeting, we could see each other on the monitor. We could hear each other through the speakers, but it was not the same as being face-to-face. I couldn't see the color of his eyes, how exceptionally tall he really was, or learn his taste in fashion (or lack of?) He lived in Texas and I live in South Carolina, and this was the best we could do. It was a taste, but I longed for the real thing-- an in-person friendship. It's like that with God too. As a believer, I can talk to Him, and He talks back. But it's not yet a face-to-face relationship. There is a beautiful Bible passage on the subject, 1 Corinthians 13:12. Here it is, quoted from The New International Version:

Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

When this was written, mirrors were polished metal. You could see yourself, but it was an imperfect image. That's why the King James Version phrased the passage this way:

For now we see though a glass darkly; but then face to face...

It was an imperfect image- not even as good as our zoom calls. I would phrase the passage this way:

Now we see a poor reflection of God, as in a piece of polished bronze. But when we die, we will see God face to face. Right now I know God only a little, but then I will know God fully, even as He already fully knows me.

And that's where Glenn is right now. Getting to know God face to face, and loving it! I am reminded of a song we sang in church years ago. I don't remember who wrote the song, but the lyrics start like this:

God I want to know you

Show me who you are

I want to see your glory

Show me who you are

I took this song to Azerbaijan with me and shared it with my friends. A couple of them translated it into Azeri. "Sani tanimaq istayiram, Gostar ozunu. Izzatini gormak istayiram, Gostar ozunu..." (Spelling is approximate, since I don't have the correct alphabet characters on my laptop.) The melody was the same, but imagery they chose was so much richer. They rewrote it something like this:

God, I want to know you

reveal yourself

so I can see you

They described the imagery to me like that of taking off a chador. The chador is a type of veil used as a cloak in the Persian culture to completely cover a woman's hair and body. Only her face is exposed. There is a famous statue in Baku Azerbaijan, by Fuad Abdurahmanov, called "Statue of a liberated Woman." It was in memory of the first woman to take off the veil. The sculptor wrote this about his inspiration:

The topic of emancipation of Azerbaijani women has attracted me for a long time. When I started work on the sculpture, for some reason, I imagined an eagle that had become tangled in the net. She tears off her bonds, finally, free from them. One more moment, and it will soar into the sunny sky. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Statue_of_a_Liberated_Woman

So now my friend Glenn has torn off his nasty cancer bonds. He is emancipated-- liberated of the veil of human flesh and suffering and now gets to know God face-to-face. But if you're reading this, you're still veiled-- by definition-- just like I am. We don't get to see God clearly. Not just yet. But we CAN get to know God a little right now, by talking to Him. By establishing a relationship with Him. Most of us are probably married. How did we get to know our spouses? By talking with them. Maybe we are old enough that we wrote love letters the old-fashioned way, with pen-and-ink. (Shush, tell no-one.) We spent time together. We communicated. And that's what God wants with us. To spend time with Him. To communicate. So try it. Get away from distractions, quiet your heart, and then start talking. Communicate. Tell Him everything. Ask Him to reveal himself to you. And then sit and wait.

"God I want to know you, show me who you are."

"Statue of a Liberated Woman" by sculptor Fuad Abdurahmanov, photograph by Eriks Piternieks. The Azeri's trolled the Iranians by placing it directly in front of the Iranian National Bank. (Love it!)