The clearest picture I ever witnessed of God's love toward you and me

            The clearest picture I ever witnessed of God's love toward us, his broken creation, came on a cool summer morning in July. The sky was that pure blue that makes us smile and shake our head in disbelief. There was a gentle breeze mingling with the leaves on the trees stretching over the gate surrounding the pool where I had gone to swim.

I was the first one at the pool but it was not long before I was joined by two other gentlemen, a father and a son. The elder man must have been close to fifty but was a giant. His broad but weathered back and chest, the expanse of his shoulders, large muscles in his legs were intimidating but not forced.

 

That was just who he was.

 

But his eyes were gentle and he emanated a poise and humility simply in the softness of his step, the quiet of his movements. He reminded me of a past warrior who had seen every evil imaginable and yet overcome all of it, now living out his days enjoying the company of his son, in happiness. He seemed like one who had mastered the secret of life, who understood the contentment found within grace and peace.

            The younger boy was different. He resembled his father in stature; tall and gangly, curly and tussled brown hair, rounded, powerful muscles, a young fourteen year old yet to grow into his body, but clearly on the way. But what struck me was when I looked into his eyes. It was clear that the boy had developmental issues, mercies of God. His eyes appeared empty, as if he did not understand his surroundings, could not comprehend the beauty of this day, as if he did not notice anything in the world…other than his father.

 

             His eyes were permanently fixed upon his massive warrior father. And they never left him. It was not as though the boy was studying his dad, trying to emulate him, or make him proud, as many boys attempt to do. They were just simply—upon him. He was looking at his dad, with no agenda, no motive, no purpose…just looking at him.

            The two behemoths climbed into the pool. As they entered the waters, the father held his son around the waist, and the son cradled his arms about the father’s neck. If one could not see the boy’s eyes, their first thought would be confusion, two monstrous men intertwined, the father supporting his son, the son’s disproportionate limbs trusting his father—and his eyes never wavering from the warrior’s face.

            The father then delicately helped fasten goggles over the boy’s eyes, speaking to him as he did. His voice was even more perfect than his appearance; a sort of scarred cadence, but a richness found in its core that was unmistakable. It was as if the sun had set on past glory and only his son mattered now. He seemed to speak even softer than he stepped. His words to his son were simple and they were true.

He whispered to his boy as he worked, “I love you. There you go. Nice and easy. I love you so much. There it is.”

            This continued for what must have been a full minute after the boy’s goggles had been secured, his eyes still not registering, but still fixed upon his dad, taking in every golden word of love. They shared this unique embrace where the father would touch his forehead to his son’s as he spoke. He would connect their foreheads, their eyes never wavering, and then he would kiss him. Straighten back up, speak gentle words of love and then ten seconds later do the same thing. However, after an invisible moment had been reached, the father looked at his son directly and speaking clearly said, “Ok, let’s goes!”

            The man was off. He thrashed through the water, his spear-like arms piercing its tranquility. His legs chopped through the stillness. The ferocity of his movements were mesmerizing, the speed and control with which he governed his body was incredible. He seemed to be down at the other wall and back in a matter of seconds. At the outset, I was so engrossed with the father, that I had completely forgotten the son.

I turned and saw the boy.

The contrast in abilities cannot be stated. Whereas the father was fast and sharp, the boy was painfully slow. The arcs in his arms seemed to float onto the water like a fallen leaf, his legs more of a subdued motion than the torrents found in the father. The boy’s head turned as though the muscles in his neck were feebler than yarn, unable to control or direct himself. The boy seemed to struggle with each laborious minute…but his body was always moving, ever so slowly, but moving.

            It was at this point where the tears began filling my eyes. I watched as the boy made it all the way down and three fourths of the way back before he stopped. He stood in the chest deep water panting heavily, and it was no sooner that he had ceased his pursuit of his dad that his father swam out to him and they resumed their holy embrace.

 

            The father’s hands went around his waist pulling his son close, the son’s lacking arms cradling his father’s neck…and their eyes locked. The man gingerly took off his son’s goggles as the two glided back to the wall, his words beginning as if they had never stopped:

            “I love you so much. That was incredible. I am so proud of you.”

            He brushed their foreheads in a soft embrace, whispering words of joy, kissing him. The boy’s eyes were still empty, but unmoving, his arms held fast, his mouth open. Their foreheads touched, the scarred and powerful warrior to his special son, “You are my hero. I love you so much.”

I was humbled.

I knew that God was showing me in a way that has been engraved into my heart ever since, that he is this kind of Father to us. And we are his dearly beloved children, who can offer him nothing but to let him love us. He knows our neck is weak. He knows we don’t understand what’s going on. But he loves us. Our job, and joy, is to have eyes only for his. His tender and passionate gaze, the mercy when our foreheads brush, the love we cannot reciprocate when his fiery lips grace ours, and his words never ceasing. Our eyes are eternally locked.