The last week or so I’ve been working on a project in New Zealand with two male colleagues. We have been sharing a lovely house on a hill near the central business district in Auckland. Living in close quarters it’s inevitable that bodily functions are dealt with which makes for a whole lot of discussion around farting and pooping. (New Zealand toilets aren’t quite as effective as North American ones.)
Surprised at my feminine lack of offense, I reminded the guys that I have a 14 year old son. We have a lot of discussion around pooping and farting at our house because if it takes talking and joking about it to connect with my son I’ll gladly do it.
God is one who also has no subject that is off limits. He doesn’t mind all the craziness and crap we bring him. He sent his son to walk among us in all our humanity…hanging out with a bunch of fishermen, I’m sure there was no avoiding the basics of human function. And yet somehow we feel we need to hide our humanity from God as if he doesn’t understand it or see it anyway.
But it’s when we come to him fully human, not hiding a thing that he can pour his love over us and truly connect with us.