What’s in God’s Wallet?
Sometime in the last couple of months I either saw or heard about a bumper sticker that read: “If God had a wallet, your picture would be in it.” Although I’ve become a bit wary of bumper stickers because of the one-uppy and downright smarmy nature of a lot of them lately, I like this one a lot. In fact, I’ve been intending to think more about it and even write about since whenever it was I first came upon it. Now, as our friend the author or 2nd Corinthians, taking a cue from friend Isaiah would say, is the acceptable time.
Lent is one dandy season to think, REALLY think – and perchance come to believe – that ours are among the photos God pulls out of that anthropological wallet now and again. Ours, not just God’s friends and family from those dear departed days of the Bible. Jesus is there, of course, and the camera-shy Holy Spirit and I’m sure there are pictures of Jonah and Judith and Miriam and Moses and the myriads of others who people those ancient sainted genealogies. And to be very seasonal about it, I’m sure that the stars of this year’s Sunday-in-Lent gospels are there: folks like the citizens of Jerusalem over whom Jesus will lament and the fig tree’s careful gardener and the prodigal son with prodigal dad and even mopey elder brother in tow and Mary the anointer with sister Martha and brother Lazarus. Well, of course they’re in the divine wallet. They’re all in the Bible and must be among God’s favorites. The point is: We are too.
When we pull out our own wallets and have them fall open not to i.d. or cash but to certain faces, or when we look at the photo galleries on smart phones or the screen saver on computers or the magneted photos on fridge and locker and filing cabinet, what do we and others looking over our shoulders see? Almost certainly we see the faces of those who mean the most to us, the ones who help us be most ourselves whether parents or lovers or children or friends. We don’t, as a matter of habit, hold onto pictures randomly. These faces mean something to us. There are whole stories – and precious ones at that – behind those grinning or sulking or somber or dorky poses, even on the worst of bad hair days. What if we were to venture the belief that God’s house and wallet and refrigerator door and giant milli-gig computer have each of us prominently displayed? What might that mean? That does in fact treasure us, knows our gnarly, knotty, peculiar stories and loves each one of us prodigally, illimitably and more fully than we can either grasp or imagine. In a sense, that’s what’s at stake and at the center of the twin mysteries of the Incarnation and the Death-Resurrection of Jesus. The infamous tag line of John 3.16 that “God so loved the world” is not simply a banner to be unfurled at football games. It is, we claim to believe, the truth. Got that? Forget your virtuous eschewal of M&Ms and martinis for 40 days, edifying though such practices might be, and try something a little harder and more important. This Lent, when you’ve got a moment, take the time to reflect on this splendid mystery: God’s got your picture and smiles when looking at it, at you. How’s that make you feel? How does it invite you to live your life? And what are your going to do about it? Vicki Garvey Vicki Garvey is an educator and has taught professionally at every level. Her longest forays have been at the graduate level with seminarians and others, and with high school students. Over the last several years, she has been energized by an even wider age range: from preschoolers through elders of the community. She now serves as Canon for Lifelong Christian Formation for the Episcopal Diocese of Chicago and fulfills the same role at a local congregation. She is also a board member and secretary for Forma.