The Smile of God

In his book, Now I Become Myself, Ken Shigematsu shares something a friend wrote to him:

“The image that came to me for you was one of God celebrating over you, in the sense not only that God loves you, but that he also LIKES you. He likes your walk, the way you talk, your sense of humor—even the things you feel are just odd or quirky—maybe even something you are wishing you could change about yourself, God likes” (ch. 4).

Later in the book he comments that when we notice something beautiful, “remember this is a small glimpse of what God feels when he sees you” (ch. 9), and “God is the author of pleasure, and so God delights in our delight” (ch. 10).

The idea of God’s delight has captured my attention this week. I can often take myself (and everyone else) too seriously. I sometimes struggle to laugh with others (perhaps because I don’t understand their humor). So then to think of God enjoying His children challenges my perspective.

“Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change” (James 1:17). He has given us many good things to enjoy, so why wouldn’t He be glad, and indeed glorified, when we do in fact enjoy them? But He’s not just an artist who is glad to be recognized, He’s also our Father. Having never had children of my own, I don’t know this for sure, but it seems to me that there’s not much better than a laughing baby or child. There is abundant evidence on social media that we enjoy their enjoyment.

I’ve been looking for ways to apply this in my own life, primarily by thinking about the things I enjoy and remembering that God notices and smiles along with me. In my case that includes things like trying to name the colors in a sunset; seeing where my prisms create rainbows on the walls; talking to the critters I find in my yard (from beetles to box turtles and black snakes); and even learning curious word derivations.

As a side note, I’m trying to relearn biblical Greek by reading an interlinear Bible, and a few times I’ve laughed at words Matthew chose for his gospel. I don’t recall ever laughing at Scripture before, and I think God laughs along. I was just reminded of the story Mike Yaconelli wrote in Dangerous Wonder about Jesus joining in a mud fight with His disciples. I’m sure he would agree that Christians can sometimes be too serious and “proper” about their faith.

If the father of the prodigal son in Luke 15 did everything improper—running to meet him, embracing and clothing him, and throwing a party to welcome the rebel back—what does that tell us about our heavenly Father? He gladly welcomes not just repentant sinners, but each of His distracted, depressed, and downtrodden children. He lifts our chins, reminds us to look at all the good things He has provided, and invites us to join in the party He is hosting for us.

Ironically (and providentially), I started reading Now I Become Myself not long after I had been thinking about the fruit of the Spirit in Galatians 5:22-23 and pondering why joy seems harder to manifest than the other descriptors (but keeping in mind that none of it is the fruit of human effort). And although I’ve often tried to parse out the difference between joy and happiness, I wonder if perhaps the main difference is whether it points us to God. Shigematsu notes,

“Any practice that makes us come alive over time, even if it is not overtly religious, is a spiritual practice. Whenever we experience the pleasure of play, we are given a window into God’s abounding pleasure in us. If you feel joyful pleasure in a frivolous and unnecessary luxury, remember that joy is God’s invention and intention for us. God calls us to a life of joy” (ch. 10).

I believe God gives us many glimpses of joy through His creation, His people, and His Word. If we will take the time to look up from our screens, to notice God’s goodness and give thanks, it will help to brighten each day.

“You make known to me the path of life; in Your presence there is fullness of joy; at Your right hand are pleasures forevermore” (Psalm 16:11).

© 2026 Dawn Rutan. Unless otherwise indicated, all Scripture are ESV and all images copyright free from pixabay.com. The opinions stated do not necessarily reflect the views of my church or employer.

Safe Spaces

I just finished reading Mental Health and the Church, by Stephen Grcevich. I wish all church leaders would read it, if for no other reason than to realize that every person experiences church activities somewhat differently, and those with mental health challenges may struggle with things that the average church member takes for granted. The author notes:

“The hidden nature of most mental health-related disabilities often leads to situations at church in which volunteers and church staff with good intentions inadvertently cause embarrassment or discomfort.”

For example, those with social anxiety may be very uncomfortable with greeting times or socializing after the service. Unfamiliar situations may create overwhelming anxiety for children and adults. Those who struggle with depression may tend to isolate themselves because they don’t have the energy to engage. Some people may be very reluctant to read or pray aloud if they have verbal processing difficulties. Many mental health diagnoses include sensory processing differences. Those with ADHD may enjoy loud music, bright lights, and lots of movement, but those with autism may be overwhelmed by that level of stimulation.

“There is no single church for everyone… Your church will never be able to create a culture that will be perfect for every child or every adult with every conceivable disability. But every church can do something to welcome more families impacted by disability—including mental illness.”

Although some of the suggestions in the book are not practical for small churches, a good starting point for every church leader is to question your assumptions:

• “We don’t have that problem here.” -Mental health challenges and diagnoses are far more common than many people realize. There are likely to be some in your congregation (unless you only have 5 members).
• “Our people are all very comfortable here.” -Have you actually asked them? Do you ever get complaints about the music, pews, or décor? That might be a hint that there is something going on under the surface.
• “We are very welcoming to newcomers.” -How many of those newcomers keep coming back? If that person has rarely been to church before, what are you expecting them to know before they come in the door? What can they find out from your website or social media in order to relieve a little stress?

Think too about the perspectives of those who do have hidden challenges:

• Are children expected to be separated from parents or trusted friends? Do you expect all kids to behave a certain way and be able to perform age-specific tasks?
• What activities or spaces might be challenging for a person with severe anxiety? Hypersensitivity? ADHD? Autism?

I consider myself to be a highly sensitive person, in addition to dealing with varying degrees of anxiety and depression. I’m easily startled by unexpected touch or loud sounds, so I look for ways to protect myself by constantly scanning my environment. In new surroundings, I like to sit with my back near a wall so that I can see what’s coming. But I’ve also figured out that in the sanctuary I need to sit near the front so that I am not constantly distracted by everything around me. And even though I’ve been at my church nearly three decades and generally know what to expect, there are still times when I struggle with the motivation to attend because I know how much energy it will take to get through the morning. I can only imagine how hard it would be for someone with more severe sensitivities.

The book also addresses the topic of stigma, which I won’t get into here, except to say that I would never attend a church that says psychiatric diagnoses aren’t real or that medications should be avoided. There is no biblical basis for that position, and people are suffering because of it. Let’s not add to the burdens people are already carrying.

“A bruised reed He will not break, and a faintly burning wick He will not quench; He will faithfully bring forth justice” (Isaiah 42:3 and Matt. 12:20).

© 2026 Dawn Rutan. Unless otherwise indicated, all Scripture are ESV and all images copyright free from pixabay.com. The opinions stated do not necessarily reflect the views of my church or employer.

Last Days

The book of Revelation is one part of Scripture where I don’t spend a lot of time. Having been raised in a denomination that got its start with the huge blunder of predicting the date of the Second Coming, I generally avoid books and discussions on Revelation. I usually want to say, “Can’t we just agree it’s a mystery?!” However, I decided to make an exception and read Shane Wood’s recent book, Thinning the Veil: Encountering Jesus Christ in the Book of Revelation, after I heard him on a podcast. I’ll admit there was quite a bit of the book that I skimmed fairly quickly, but I did appreciate his approach, which is best summarized in the Introduction:

“Assumptions influence vision and guide our questions. If Revelation is a chronological road map of the future, then our questions demand the text to answer: ‘When will the world end? How will we know it’s drawing near? What signs signal the coming rapture? Is [fill in the name of a political enemy] the antichrist?’ These questions and endless others are understandable if we assume Revelation intends to predict. But what if Revelation doesn’t want to answer these questions? … Revelation’s target is bigger than mere prediction or fortunetelling cartography. Each time the ‘end of the world’ is invoked, it is in service of a greater aim: thinning the veil. Revealing Jesus Christ. Transforming those with ears to hear what the Spirit says to the churches.”

As with much of the Christian life, we can easily get sidetracked into lesser issues and grey areas. We look for rules, maps, and calendars when God is more interested in drawing us into relationship with Himself. From the creation of mankind in the image of God, He has continually pursued us with the desire to extend the fellowship that exists within the Trinity to include us. Revelation ends with the promise, “Surely I am coming soon!” That is the conclusion that matters the most. Wood notes in his last chapter,

“As Christians, are we worshiping a person or a place? Do we yearn for heaven or for intimacy with God? … In the end, the Revelation of Jesus Christ doesn’t settle for a place or mere prediction. Its target is far more grand. Far more elaborate. Its target is you. Is me. The transformation of the reader through intimacy with the God who calls you by name. Even by a new name.”

While I was reading this book, I decided to pull out a collection of articles on Revelation that my great grandfather wrote and my grandmother compiled. I’ve started typing them in order to make them available to the rest of my family. However, I quickly got bogged down in his interpretive details and long sentences. I have no doubt he studied long and hard to write these articles, but I’m beginning to think he missed the point. (Perhaps I’ll change my mind by the time I get to the end.)

It’s easy to miss the forest for the trees in a book like Revelation. I dare say the same may be true of many areas of study. We can get so consumed with figuring out how cells function, how molecules interact, and how stars come into being that we lose sight of the Creator and Sustainer of all things. Claiming to be wise, we become fools when we exchange the glory of the immortal God for our own perspectives, interpretations, and ideas (see Rom. 1:22-23).

“Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be His people, and God Himself will be with them as their God” (Rev. 21:3).

Even so, come, Lord Jesus!

© 2026 Dawn Rutan. Unless otherwise indicated, all Scripture are ESV and all images copyright free from pixabay.com. The opinions stated do not necessarily reflect the views of my church or employer.