When I was a little girl, relatives would say how much I looked like my mother. I didn't know my mother because she abandoned me when I was three. Through the years I grew to hate it when people would say I looked like her. By the time I was sixteen I'd come to understand some very unflattering things about my mother's character. So, for me to be compared to her became an insult. When I finally met her face to face at age 16, I immediately and excitedly realized how wrong everyone had been. I didn't look anything like her. All I had was her gorgeous thick hair.
After going through a number of old photographs, I found two extremely wonderful shots. One was of my father at age 18 in his Navy uniform. The other was of his mother at about the same age. They looked exactly alike. That's when I saw something even more telling. Grama looked like me! I realized then that who I looked like was my grandmother and my father. That was such a great realization for me. It's like a veil of confusion had been removed from my mind. Although both Grama and Daddy were far from perfect in life, I'm so grateful to know that I most resemble the two of them.
"And all of us, as with unveiled face, [because we] continued to behold [in the Word of God] as in a mirror the glory of the Lord, are constantly being transfigured into His very own image in ever increasing splendor and from one degree of glory to another; [for this comes] from the Lord [Who is] the Spirit." 2 Cor. 3:18
Paul was speaking here of the veil with which Moses covered his face to hide the glory of God. Paul was telling us that as God transforms us, we will be as unveiled before man. Different. Constantly, as the Lord works on us, we display in every increasing splendor the Lord Himself through our words and actions and habits.
Today people are constantly telling me my deceased son looked just like me---that when they see me, they remember Chad. They also say his youngest daughter, Abby, looks like me. Abby likes that. She likes it when people say that. She cuddles closer to me, and smiles when people say that. You see, Abby thinks I'm pretty special. She sees the good in me which the Lord has transformed me to be in how I love her, how I love others, and what I do and say. That is a tough picture to paint. And if not for the Lord, my image would be as smeared as a mirror clothed in lard.
My son and I did look alike. And although he was not perfect by any means, I am grateful he picked up many of my better traits, as well as my image. I'm grateful the Spirit within me helped him to come to a saving knowledge of our Lord and Savior. May Jesus so work on me today that the image people see is Him and Him only. I do not say this lightly or without fear and trembling. For to be made into the image of Christ, more and more of me must die. I read a devotional thought long ago in Streams in the Desert that went like this:
"We pray for the likeness to Jesus, and the answer is, "I have chosen the in the furnace of affliction." "Can thine heart endure, or can thine hands be strong?" "Are ye able?"
To be like the Lord, to show ourselves unveiled and revealing Him in all ways, we must be willing to suffer His sufferings and be acquainted with His griefs. Indeed, are we able? selahV
[copyrighted, SelahV Today, 2008]
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