The LORD bless you and keep you; the LORD make his face shine upon you and be gracious to you; the LORD turn his face toward you and give you peace. (Numbers 6:24-26) (NIV)
One by one, the African pastors of each denomination pressed through the crowd to take a turn at praying for revival. A man, wearing a red and white clerical dress over his clothes, popped free of the crowd. He bowed in humility with a genuflect-like hand gesture, and began praying. Intercession gushed out to flood God’s feet with his pleas. His language was unintelligible to me, yet I knew heaven devoured every syllable.
The fact that this warrior was dressed as Alice in Wonderland did not soften his face. His brow was a bulwark, jutting forward in strength. Rock steady eyes drilled heaven from where they were set above flared nostrils and exotic cheekbones. His mouth was more than a hole with lips—it was a living organ that visibly shaped words as a potter throws clay. I sat transfixed by this fierce black face, engaged in the holy warfare of prayer.
The face is the portal for our being. Perception and stimuli flow in, and expression and conviction pour out. Here is the epicenter of life energy. It’s no wonder Moses was told that no man could see the face of God and live (Ex. 33:20). Who could endure an encounter with the nuclear reactor of so much glory? The hurricane of purity that blasts from the face of God sweeps away every debris of evil. What hope do I—with evil stirred all through me—have of standing before the face of God?
There is only one being in the universe capable of the following feat—He grabs hold of the face of the Almighty and says, “Father, please look at my friend.” He turns God’s face to gaze on me, and, as long as Jesus holds his Father’s face, beams of grace blend with the consuming light of glory. I don’t melt. Rather, I’m saturated with blessing under the stare of the Holy God.
Prayer: Father, through Jesus I revel in the worship of your face.