I can tell you exactly what He looks like:

We'll start with his hands which clearly show that they know the meaning of a hard days work. As they are turned upward (the stance of utter acceptance) we can see that they are callused and strong. Long stretching fingers reach out, bidding us to come closer. It is the hands that get us close enough to see His face.

Here we find the richness of Him, in the depths of eyes that belie understanding for their clarity and penetrating, rich darkness. We can see ourselves most clearly here, as He Himself sees us; spotless and without blemish.

To touch His face now my hands reach up and caress the rugged skin turned brown and browner still (for I believe that my Jesus was an outdoorsy fellow) by the sun. The corners of His mouth turn up as I tickle what beard scruffs his face, and I find joy even here, in the winkles of his skin.

By now I am sitting on His lap, in His arms. I may well come boldly into the throne room, but to climb into the lap of the lover of my soul, of my best friend, there is no need for boldness. As I stood the length away, all He required was that I wanted to come, and then he bade me as He did Peter on the lake those many years ago. Beneath me, He is strong, cradling and SAFE. I know I CANNOT fall from this position, here in His arms. Around me, those same strong arms that later held Him to the cross, hold me snugly so that I know this is where I belong.

I am totally accepted.

I am utterly known.

I am looking into His face and He into mine.

This is what Jesus looks like.