I was lying between my twin boys a couple of nights ago and we were in one of our great theological discussions of where we find God. We had named so many places and the lateness of the day was sweeping us dreamily into that place between wakefulness and slumber when Bubba drowsily said "Dad, I know where heaven is, I can see it". "Really? What's it look like Bub?", I mumbled back to him, now barely awake. Slowly and deliberately he spoke, "It looks like little purple, red, and shiny dusty things just beneath the ceiling. Its all moving around and must be angels". I opened my eyes and in the darkness, complete darkness, I saw what he saw (if you look into darkness with your mind's eye you'll see it too) and gazed in wonder at the unseen molecules and particles moving before us - empty space to us most of the time but this time teaming with life seen through the eyes of someone looking, really looking. I continued to stare in wonder as the room grew full with my own heartbeat and the breath of my sons as their breathing grew deeper and more relaxed. My heart filled with the beauty of the Father's image to meet the child where he needed him to be, like a blanket watching over him as he sleeps, like the Father hovering over creation as he built the foundations of the earth, like the potter leaning over the clay.
It must have been a little like that when Andrew went to his brother Simon and said he found the Messiah, or when Phillip found Nathanael and brought him to Jesus for him to see, or when John the Baptist first saw Jesus approaching and said, "Behold the Lamb of God". They saw something there, maybe because they were looking?