Living Temples: When Hearts Recognize Hearts
- lorijeanwilson6
- Jun 8
- 3 min read
Updated: Jun 14
by Lori Wilson
Philip said, "Lord, show us the Father and that will be enough for us." Jesus answered: "Don't you know me, Philip, even after I have been among you such a long time? Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father. How can you say, 'Show us the Father'? Don't you believe that I am in the Father, and that the Father is in me? The words I say to you I do not speak on my own authority. Rather, it is the Father, living in me, who is doing his work. Believe me when I say that I am in the Father and the Father is in me; or at least believe on the evidence of the works themselves. Very truly I tell you, whoever believes in me will do the works I have been doing, and they will do even greater things than these, because I am going to the Father. And I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Father may be glorified in the Son." — John 14:8-13
Philip's plaintive request echoes through the centuries: "Show us the Father and that will be enough for us." Yet Jesus' response reveals the profound mystery that Philip—and we—so often miss: God is not hidden away in some distant realm, but intimately present, dwelling within and working through the very people standing before us.
Each of us carries within our being a sacred space—a living tabernacle where the Divine makes a home. We are not merely vessels waiting to be filled, but rather breathing temples where God's presence is already alive, already at work, already seeking expression through our words, actions, and the love we extend to one another.
When I reflect on the people closest to me, one person comes particularly to mind. In his patient presence, I glimpse the patience of God. In his natural ability to see and believe the good in others, I witness the unwavering faith God has in each of us. His creativity, innovation, and thoughtful kindness become windows into the very heart of the Creator. Through him, God has spoken to me countless times—not in dramatic revelations, but in the quiet, consistent testimony of a life lived with love.
This is the mystery Jesus reveals to Philip: we find God not by looking beyond the human, but by looking more deeply into it. When we truly see one another—really see—we encounter the sacred dwelling within. We are each called to be Christ's hands reaching out, feet walking alongside the weary, heart embracing the broken, mouth speaking words of healing and hope in this blessed and broken world.
The question that pierces my heart is this: When people encounter me, do they glimpse something of the Divine? Before I speak or act, am I checking my internal compass to ensure I'm reflecting the qualities of this God I know—this God who is Love itself? This God who sees each of us as beloved daughters and sons, not because of our achievements or failures, but simply because we are fearfully and wonderfully made.
This is the love I long to embody—love that draws out the hidden goodness in every person I meet, love that believes in possibilities when others see only problems, love that creates space for others to discover their own sacred worth.
For Prayer and Reflection:
As you sit quietly, bring to mind someone through whom you have glimpsed God's presence. What qualities in them revealed the Divine to you? How might God be inviting you to embody those same qualities?
Ask yourself gently: When others encounter me today, what do they see? What would need to shift in my heart for people to more clearly glimpse God's love through my presence and actions?





Comments