Long ago, the prophet Isaiah received a magnificent vision of God. The Lord sat upon a throne, and great winged seraphim praised him with the words we now use in the Mass: “Holy, holy, holy is the LORD of hosts . . .” (Isa 6:3). Overwhelmed, Isaiah cried out,

“Woe is me! For I am lost; for I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips; for my eyes have seen the King, the LORD of hosts!” (Isa 6:5).

Isaiah received an honor scarce few had ever received: the chance to gaze upon God in his glory. His reaction was rather intense; he cried “Woe is me!” and trembled in his unworthiness. Being close to God was for him an experience of great fear, great awe. “My eyes have seen the King, the LORD of hosts!” he declared. It is a privilege to be in the presence of the eternal God—but intimidating as well.

Isaiah’s vision is just one of many scriptural accounts of face-to-face encounters with God in his glory. Think back to the patriarch Jacob. In the aftermath of his famed wrestling match, he uttered in shock, “I have seen God face to face, and yet my life is preserved” (Gen 32:30). Or consider the great Moses, who was visited by God in thunder, lightning, and smoke (cf. Exod 19:16–25).

These Old Testament encounters with the Lord remind us that God is big, powerful, and beyond our deepest comprehension. Underpinning these meetings are God’s own words that “man shall not see me and live” (Exod 33:20). So it’s nothing other than an honor, an unexplainable gift, to experience what this verse from Exodus suggests is impossible. It’s no small thing to be in the presence of God, and it’s fitting to respond with a certain amount of awe and (properly defined) fear. But this fear isn’t fright; it’s not being scared of God. We should see Isaiah’s fear before God in contrast to that of Adam and Eve, who were actually frightened, terrified before God in their nakedness—which led them to hide from him (cf. Gen 3:10). Isaiah was fully aware of his shortcomings, of his unworthiness, but he didn’t run away or hide. He was captured by wonder, moved by amazement, and stayed right where he was before his Lord and God. After all, God came to him.

Consider, now, the shepherds’ experience at the Nativity. These poor and lowly men were some of the first witnesses of God’s incarnate presence on earth. They are described as “filled with fear” when the angel appeared to them, bringing the shining glory of the Lord (cf. Luke 2:9). But what did they see when they got to Bethlehem? A “babe wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger” (Luke 2:12; 2:16).

How they must have trembled before this child! But not out of terror like Adam and Eve—rather in awe at the glory of God. In the baby Jesus, God tells us that we should not be scared to be in his presence. But that actually makes the presence of God all the more awe-inspiring, all the more inducing of a shiver of wonder—when God’s presence is hidden but simultaneously shining with glory in the vulnerable flesh of a human person. We don’t just see him and live, but we are drawn to his warmth and invited to be close to him, even while he remains the great and powerful Lord before whom Jacob, Moses, and Isaiah trembled.

How do we, little as we are, find ourselves before the presence of God, gentle and delicate but glorious before us? For in the Eucharist, we have the privilege of seeing the incarnate Lord and gazing upon the face of God. We can dwell in the Eucharistic Presence in a way that Isaiah or Jacob never could. Even the shepherds or many of Jesus’ contemporaries may have only beheld the face of Christ a few times—in passing once or twice on the streets of Nazareth, or from afar during one of his sermons. We get to encounter the incarnate Lord as often as we are at Mass or Adoration. Are we aware of the magnificence and glory of God before our eyes?

This past Sunday, in the midst of the Christmas Octave, we celebrated the feast of the Holy Family. Mary and Joseph spent every day gazing on the face of God incarnate—their own son. These two, no doubt, were profoundly aware of the privilege of every second with their child, the God of the universe. Let us take their example, then, to ask God for the grace to make each moment in his presence in the Eucharist one of great awe and great gratitude—one where we let our hearts cry out with reverence and joy, “My eyes have seen the king!”

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Bartolomé Esteban Perez Murillo, Adoration of the Shepherds