The Eyes Of God

Seeing God is a big deal in the Bible. Moses worked it out so he could see God’s backside, but not His face. For to see God face-to-face meant that Moses would explode. Or something like that.

Jacob wrestled with an angel and got so excited by the experience that he blurted out (essentially), “I have seen God face to face, and lived to tell!”

You know the ending of 2001: A Space Odyssey, as the pod carrying Keir Dullea races through infinity, and we see all those close-ups of his face and eyes? I’m telling you now, that man is seeing God!

I too have seen God. And I didn’t have to climb a mountain or wrestle an angel or fly to Jupiter. God came to me a few years ago while I was lying on my bed, lonely as hell; and my cat, Fellini, kept bugging me. I kept pushing her away so I could get in the zone and get in touch with God. And she kept molesting me and crying for my attention.

And then I heard the voice of God: I’m right here! There! Pay attention to me!

Fellini climbed up on my chest. I looked her in the eyes and said, “God . . . is that you? Are you in there?”

She purred fiercely and nuzzled my nose with her snout, leaving a sloppy residue of kitty snot and saliva; which she promptly mopped up with her tongue. Then she pulled back and looked deep into my eyes. And it struck me that God was, indeed, right there on my chest. And he said, Touch me. And I did, and it felt great. For both of us.

And guess what — I wasn’t lonely anymore.