I like to think of God’s presence as being similar to light. It is source by which we can see and know things; it is brighter in some places than others; and one would have to search high and low to find a place void of it completely. God is most everywhere, yes, but concentrated in certain places more than others.
Sometimes I have to remind myself not to follow the examples of Death Valley or the Dead Sea. The former gave so much of itself without replenishment that it ended up dry and withered, incapable of giving any longer; the latter took so much from others without sharing that it became so salty that it cannot support life.
Purgatory is like a powerfully clenched fist refusing to let go. The only way out is accepting, forgiving, and releasing one’s will. There is no outside force violently ripping the hand open and causing pain. There’s only the inside pain caused by the slow realization that the thing it’s holding isn’t what it truly wants anymore, and finding a way to let it go.
Trying to wrap my head around one God as three persons is difficult. The best I can do is remember that ice, water, and steam are all the same chemical but each take different forms.
I think we’re each like an individual GOBO, an apparatus placed on the front of a light with a specific shape or color for use in theatre (literally a “Goes before optics” or “Go Between”). By itself, it projects nothing; it needs a light source. Each Gobo comes with its own individual angles, colors, and levels of transparency through which the light must pass, causing the same light source to be projected in different ways. For me, it’s better than the image of empty pipe that connects God to the world because it accepts that we can’t ever be objectively unbiased; how we accept God, interpret him, and transmit him are all biases we bring to the world.