It is important to try to see God wherever you look. After all, He created the universe and continues to influence everything. His signature can be found written all over history and woven into the fabric of creation. As the book of Sirach so concisely put it, He is all. It's really not difficult to see God in everyday life. I personally find that I am able to see Him in happenstance occurrences, in nature when I walk outside, and even in certain communities of people.
I confess, however, that I am borderline incapable of seeing the face of God in individuals. This frustrates me to no end, seeing as how each and every human being is made ad imaginem Dei (to the image of God). It doesn't make me evil or anything for not perceiving the Face of God in the people I meet, but it makes it increasingly difficult both to treat them as I'd have them treat me and to treat them as I'd treat Jesus.
Let me explain (and I pray you won't think less of me afterwards). When I see a total stranger, I can't help but immediately notice all of their outward aspects (clothing, facial expression, the way they carry themselves, race, gender, etc.), and almost immediately my compulsive mind forms an opinion - a negative opinion, more often than not. This isn't something that I consciously do, it just sort of happens in the moment and then presents itself to me. My more friendly and rational self says, Self, you know this opinion is based on nothing but your absurd preconceptions. Nonetheless, my newly-formed judgment of the book based on its cover has already pervaded my mind. Because of this, complete strangers turn into whomever my brain wants them to be before I give myself a chance to see them as miraculous creations.
If you thought my judgment of strangers was bad, wait for my judgment of people whom I actually know. Don't get me wrong, I love my friends and family and know that I'm blest to have them. But, in contrast to strangers, it would seem that I know too much about my actual acquaintances. I don't mean that I ignore their positive aspects, nor do I mean that their shortcomings make me think badly of them. I simply mean that their faults (or, what I vainly perceive as faults) make it nigh impossible for me to see the Face of God in these children of His. Instead I see only imperfect beings.
I may be unskilled at seeing the beauty of humanity's individuals, but do not think of me as feeling vastly superior to everyone I meet. If I know too much about my peers and family, then indeed I know far more about my own imperfections. Do I hate myself? No. At least, not nowadays. Consciously, I am fully aware that God loves me and that I'm not a bad person. Discovering this was one of the greatest blessings I have ever received; but when I look in the mirror, I do not see an ounce of the Divine Visage reflected there. I am not deeply or depressingly plagued by this, because I am fully aware that what I perceive is a lie I subconsciously tell myself. To say that it isn't a troubling lie, however, would be yet another falsehood.
Of course, when I talk about the Face of God, I don't mean that I should be seeing the Divine Countenance superimposed atop of other's faces. I'm totally okay being alive, thank you very much. But that imago Dei I mentioned earlier is a part of us. If we are each made in the Big Guy's image (take that to mean what you will), then we all deserve better from each other than the kind of judgment people like me heap upon others and ourselves. If you can see God's Face in your own and other's, then you will likely find yourself treating people as such. For me, however, it's like the hardest freaking Where's Waldo? in existence. I know the little guy is there, but God help me, I just cannot seem to look past all the other stuff.
I'm not completely blind, mind you. In writing this, I've been trying to think of the few people I've met in whom I have successfully seen the Face of God. Three come to mind (I know, I know, I have a long way to go). First, a relative of mine whose many life experiences have led to an incredibly deep love of God and of other people. She taught me about the Lord long before I started loving Him, and is still perhaps the greatest religious inspiration in my life. Second, a young man from my campus ministry whom I only met a few times, but who emanated an infectiously spiritual joy that I can only describe as God-given. Though only a couple years older than me, this young man has since gone to his reward. I still vividly recall my brief encounters with him. Third, a priest whom I have had occasional interactions with, who is outwardly thrilled to be doing the Lord's work, whether it be the Mass, Reconciliation, or otherwise. He seems to be always smiling that same smile we've all seen on the face of Pope John Paul II, who simply radiated the joy of the Lord.
It can indeed be a sad thing to look at oneself and see no resemblance to one's father. So too do I occasionally regret my inability to see the divine spark in myself and others. If I could just step through that perceived veil, it would be easier for me to feel Christian kinship toward everyone else. I truly wish it were different. However, Blessed Teresa of Calcutta continued to do the Lord's work ceaselessly even though she frequently felt abandoned by His presence. So I have no excuse to not do my best as a Catholic!
If you're like me and have a hard time seeing the Face of God in some aspect or aspects of creation, then I suggest turning to the Psalms for prayer. They're full of verses about seeing God's Face. I took some of them and turned them into my own little prayer:
How long will You hide Your face from me?
Answer me quickly, O Lord, my spirit fails; do not hide Your face from me, or I will become like those who go down to the pit.
When You said, "Seek My face," my heart said to You, "Your face, O Lord, I shall seek."
Do not hide your face from your servant, for I am in distress; answer me quickly.
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