Many Faces of God: Why I Started Looking

I did not set out to build an art series. I set out to look for His face.

God cannot be reduced to a single image. Through the Incarnation, Christ truly took on a human face, yet throughout time and culture, Christians have portrayed Him in ways that help them understand, remember, and draw near.

At Pentecost, each person heard the apostles in his own language. In a similar way, sacred art often speaks in the visual language of a people, a place, and a time. When centered on the truth of Scripture and the faith of the Church, these images can help us contemplate the mystery of God more deeply.

We are made in the image of God, and yet God is greater than any image we can make of Him. He is not limited by our understanding. He meets us in ways we can receive.

We see something similar in the apparitions of Mary. She is often seen in ways people can recognize and understand. Not because Mary changes who she is, but because God allows the encounter to be received through the hearts and eyes of those He loves.

When I began this page, I wanted each of us to find ourselves drawn into His image. I wanted us to remember that He is near, that He calls us, and that we belong to Him.

At first, I was searching for where I was in God. How did He appear to me? As Spirit? As the Christ Child? As the suffering Savior? As the risen Lord? I began to realize that I was being called to look for Him not only in sacred images, but also in the people and world around me.

In the beginning, I shared images. Later, I added quotes to help with meditation on who God is. I found it difficult to separate Christ from the Holy Family and the saints, so I include them as well. They are not the center, but they help us see Him more deeply.

As I traveled, I began taking pictures of different images of Christ and the Holy Family, noticing how they have been portrayed across time, culture, and place. Some have stayed with me in a powerful way.

One image in particular, from a cathedral in Costa Rica, still penetrates my heart. Jesus is carrying His cross. When you look into His eyes, you see His pain. It is almost as though He is asking, “Will you help Me? Do you see how much I am willing to do for you?”

I do not know how anyone could walk past that statue and not feel the weight of His suffering.

And yet, I have not posted that picture.

When others look quickly toward the Resurrection, I often find myself lingering at the Crucifixion. Not because I forget the victory, but because I need to remember the cost. I need to remember the depth of His love.

Can we imagine it? The wounds. The blood. The gashes. The exhaustion. The face of God the Son, battered and afflicted, revealing how far Love was willing to go for us.

And so I keep looking.

Because to see His face is to be reminded of what He has done, what He continues to do, and what I so easily forget.

I offer this as an act of love and gratitude for all the good God does for us, both what we see and what we fail to see.

As we pray in the Confiteor:

I confess to Almighty God
and to you, my brothers and sisters,
that I have greatly sinned,
in my thoughts and in my words,
in what I have done
and in what I have failed to do;
through my fault, through my fault,
through my most grievous fault;
therefore I ask blessed Mary ever-Virgin,
all the Angels and Saints,
and you, my brothers and sisters,
to pray for me to the Lord our God.

Amen.