I think I saw the face of God.
Not in a dream. Not in a near death experience. Here on earth. In the form of a man. The complexion of a caramel latte. Eyes that gazed deep into my soul. A face that eased my worries and pain with just one glance.
I think I felt the touch of God.
Not in a gust of wind. Not in a drop of rain. But by the hands of a man. Hands so big. Hands so firm. Hands so smooth. Hands that encompassed my own. Hands that caressed my body so gently.
I think I heard the voice of God.
Not from the pastor. Not during prayer. During a late night pillow talk. Faint like a whisper in my ear. Yet it had so much presence that it moved the very essence of who I am.
I see the God in you. I feel the God in you. He radiates off of you in ways so powerful that I sometimes find it disturbing. When you speak, it is mind-altering; the way I imagine it would be if I was sitting at the feet of the Father himself. Your eyes reflect God. Sparkle as if he is sitting right within your cornea. Your touch always catches me off guard, whether I am expecting it or not. Something about your fingers that just release this kind of energy-strength.
This is by no means an attempt to rob God of his omnipotent power. He is God and God alone. But it is evident to me that man is made in God’s image. Especially this man that stands before me. With his pure heart and unadulterated love. This is nothing but God, I am sure of it.
I think I saw the face of God, the moment I met you.