John the Baptist.

(NOTE: You’ll have to forgive the picture. I searched on Google Images for John the Baptist out of curiosity, and I thought this one was funny.)

I have never liked the phrase found God, as in “My nephew finally ‘found God.’” It makes God sound so commonplace, so easily lost and regained. Using this terminology, it sounds no more important to “find” God than it would be to “find” your long-lost stopwatch. Actually, I think we should be making every effort to "find" God as many times as possible during the day. Matthew 3 especially illumines this point with the introduction of John the Baptist.

Apparently, John’s entire diet was overgrown flies and raw honey. I suspect your mental image of him is similar to mine: unruly beard and hair, yellowed teeth, suntan a woman would kill for. If you only visualize him in the context of a preacher that lives in the desert and screams at people about repenting, that works. But imagine him in your daily routine. Hearing God’s message from the voice of a scruffy, insect-eating maniac in your office, neighborhood, or church would be difficult. It would take some serious searching to “find God” in John’s message because it would be a challenge to get past his appearance.

I’m not going to take this down the path of God-asks-that-we-love-even-the-stinky-people – although I could use a dose of that sometimes. Instead, God’s use of wild-eyed John reminds me to look for God even in the most unexpected of places. For example, I have always loved British Romantic poetry, which was written by men known for their pantheism. While I am no pantheist, I believe they might have been onto something that most modern-day Christians overlook: God doesn’t equal nature, but His glory resides in it. It’s why we get so enraged about things like the Gulf oil spill. It tarnishes our natural revelation of God, his very masterpieces. His magnificence glows in the sunset, flows in the waterfall, glistens in the stars; the British Romantics are masters of bringing this wonder to the surface. I can “find God” even in non-religious venues.

In January of this year I wrote about a similar experience: “finding God” in Friends. There’s an episode in the eighth season in which Rachel, pregnant with Ross’s baby, has moved in with Ross even though they are no longer involved and haven’t been in years. One afternoon in the third trimester of Rachel’s pregnancy, Ross goes on a date with a woman he met while he and Rachel were shopping for baby paraphernalia. When he returns, it’s obvious that Rachel is upset with him, but he can’t figure out why. “What do you want from me?” he asks, confused. Sighing, she replies, “I don’t want you to date. I don’t want to date you, but I don’t want anyone else to either. I want you to be at my beck and call twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week…I know that’s ridiculous, but it’s how I feel.” After a moment’s pause, he shrugs and says, “Okay.” Looking up at him, mystified, she says, “‘Okay’? But I’m being so unreasonable!” It’s the picture of grace, right there. God is “lovesick” over us, as Philip Yancey says, and is willing to erase our sins with his grace over and over and over again…even though we’re being so unreasonable in asking for it. Even though we’re repenting and failing, repenting and failing, he welcomes us to his throne every time.

Finding God is not a once-in-a-lifetime event, rather it is a never-ending exercise for the Christian. How can I find God in what I do so I can emanate his message to those I encounter everyday? How can I find Love so that I can create a culture of kindness throughout my life?