The Mirror's Jest: Finding God Beyond Our Reflection

It is a curious thing, this business of mirrors. We gaze into them daily, adjusting our ties and taming our hair, yet we scarcely pause to consider the great cosmic joke they play upon us. For what is a mirror but a liar dressed in silver and glass, a jester who mocks us with our own image?

Consider, if you will, the audacity of the looking glass. It presents us with ourselves, or so we think, and yet it presents us backwards. The mole that mars our left cheek becomes a blemish on our right. Our carefully parted hair shifts sides with the impudence of a political turncoat. We are, in the mirror, both ourselves and our opposites, a paradox made flesh and reflected in polished sand.

But this reversal is merely the beginning of the mirror's deceits. For what do we truly see when we peer into that silvered surface? Not ourselves, I contend, but a stranger we have convinced ourselves is us. We see a flat, lifeless imitation of a living, breathing being, and we accept this paltry substitution without question. We look at this flattened version of ourselves and declare, "Yes, that is me," never pausing to consider the absurdity of the claim.

For how can that be me? That creature in the mirror blinks when I blink, smiles when I smile, frowns when I frown. But it is not me. It is, at best, a pale imitation, a shadow play on a wall of silver. It lacks depth, it lacks substance, it lacks soul. And yet we accept it, day after day, as the truest representation of ourselves.

But perhaps the greatest deception of the mirror lies not in what it shows us, but in what it does not show. For what do we see when we look in the mirror? We see our physical form, our outward appearance. We see the shell that houses our true selves, but we do not see that self. We do not see our thoughts, our dreams, our fears, our hopes. We do not see our souls.

And here we come to the crux of the matter, the heart of the mirror's great lie. For in showing us only our outward form, the mirror encourages us to believe that this form is all that we are. It seduces us into the fallacy that our appearance is our essence, that how we look is who we are. And in doing so, it leads us astray from the truth that lies at the core of Christian belief: that we are more than our bodies, more than our appearance, more than what can be reflected in a piece of polished glass.

For what does Scripture tell us? In the book of Samuel, we are reminded that "the Lord does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart." And yet, how often do we, in our daily communion with the mirror, fall into the trap of looking only at the outward appearance? How often do we judge ourselves, and by extension others, based solely on what we see reflected back at us?

The mirror, in its silent eloquence, speaks to us of a world where appearance is everything, where the surface is the sum total of our worth. It whispers to us of a reality where wrinkles are to be feared, where gray hairs are the enemy, where the slightest imperfection is a cause for despair. It presents us with a vision of ourselves that is incomplete, inadequate, and ultimately false.

But there is another mirror, one that shows us not as we appear to be, but as we truly are. This mirror is not made of glass and silver, but of faith and love. It is the mirror of God's grace, and in it we see ourselves as we are seen by our Creator.

In this mirror, we see not just our outward form, but our inward essence. We see not just our flaws and imperfections, but our potential for greatness. We see ourselves not as isolated individuals, but as part of a vast tapestry of humanity, each thread unique and essential to the whole.

This mirror shows us our true face, the face that lies beneath the surface, the face that is known to God alone. It reveals to us our innermost selves, our hopes and fears, our strengths and weaknesses. It shows us not just what we are, but what we can become.

And what do we see when we look into this mirror of faith? We see ourselves as we are seen by God: beloved children, created in His image, infinitely precious and of immeasurable worth. We see ourselves not as the world sees us, with all our flaws and failings magnified, but as God sees us, with all our potential for goodness and greatness brought to the fore.

But this mirror of faith is not an easy one to look into. It demands of us a courage and honesty that the ordinary mirror does not. For while the physical mirror allows us to avert our gaze from that which we do not wish to see, the mirror of faith compels us to look deeper, to confront those aspects of ourselves that we would rather keep hidden.

In this mirror, we see not just our virtues, but our vices. We see not just our triumphs, but our failures. We see ourselves as we truly are, with all our contradictions and complexities laid bare. And in seeing ourselves thus, we are called to change, to grow, to become more fully the persons we were created to be.

This, then, is the great challenge that the mirror of faith presents to us. It asks us to look beyond the surface, to see past the superficial, to recognize the divine image that resides within each of us. It calls us to a deeper understanding of ourselves and of our fellow human beings, an understanding rooted not in appearance or circumstance, but in the fundamental truth of our shared humanity and our common origin in God.

But how, you might ask, are we to look into this mirror of faith? How are we to see ourselves and others as God sees us? The answer, I believe, lies in the practice of love. For love, as St. Paul tells us, "does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres."

Love, in other words, sees beyond the surface. It looks past the outward appearance to the inner reality. It recognizes the divine spark in every person, regardless of how that spark might be obscured by circumstance or sin. Love sees as God sees, and in doing so, it reveals to us our true selves and the true selves of others.

This is not to say that love is blind. On the contrary, love sees more clearly than any other faculty we possess. It sees our flaws and failings, but it sees them in the context of our potential for growth and change. It sees our sins, but it also sees our capacity for redemption. Love sees us as we are, but it also sees what we can become.

And so, when we look into the mirror of faith, we are called to look with eyes of love. We are called to see ourselves and others not as the world sees us, with all our imperfections magnified, but as God sees us, with all our potential for goodness and greatness brought to the fore.

This is no easy task. It requires of us a constant effort, a continual reorientation of our vision. It demands that we set aside our preconceptions, our prejudices, our habitual ways of seeing. It asks us to look anew at ourselves and at the world around us, to see with eyes unclouded by the distortions of selfishness or fear.

But if we can do this, if we can learn to look into the mirror of faith with eyes of love, what wonders might we see? We might see ourselves as we truly are: beloved children of God, created in His image, infinitely precious and of immeasurable worth. We might see others not as strangers or enemies, but as brothers and sisters, fellow travelers on the journey of life. We might see the world not as a place of conflict and competition, but as a garden entrusted to our care, a place where the love of God can take root and flourish.

And in seeing thus, we might be transformed. For to see ourselves and others as God sees us is to be changed by that vision. It is to be called to a higher standard, to a more expansive love, to a deeper engagement with the world and with each other. It is to be challenged to become more fully the persons we were created to be, to grow into the fullness of our potential as children of God.

This, then, is what I see when I look in the mirror. Not just my physical reflection, with all its flaws and imperfections, but something deeper, something truer. I see a child of God, created in His image, called to a life of love and service. I see a person of infinite worth and dignity, regardless of outward appearance or circumstance. I see someone who is loved beyond measure, not for what they have done or what they look like, but simply for who they are.

And in seeing this, I am called to see others in the same way. I am challenged to look beyond the surface, to recognize the divine image in every person I encounter. I am invited to see the world through the eyes of love, to recognize the inherent dignity and worth of every human being.

This is the challenge and the promise of the mirror. May we have the courage to look deeply, to see truly, and to love fully. For in doing so, we catch a glimpse of the divine, a foretaste of the glory that is to come. And in that vision, we find our true selves, our true purpose, our true home.

-The Seeker's Quill