I am myopic. Have been nearly all my life. I can barely recall what it is to not see only extreme fuzziness without glasses.
And I am not alone. According to an article by Fabian Yii on The Fab Vision blog, based on reliable statistics and projections, by next year 34% of the world’s population will be short-sighted. (Full article at: https://www.thefabvision.com/2018/04/03/countries-myopia-short-sighted-world-prevalence/ )
Myopia of the eyes, however, is not the only – nor indeed the most serious – form of the condition. We cannot always clearly see how:
Our habits may be harming us…and others
Some choices in this moment will likely affect us negatively in the long run
The hardships and struggles we face today could very well be resolved in the near future
The kindness we show to others really does brighten the world and change things for the better, one day and one person at a time
This year, we have already explored how we can be fully known and learn from that experience to more rightly know ourselves and others. And we have also considered what it means to be loved first so that we can more effectively love. When we have been seen — in all our greatness and strength…and in all our brokenness and pain — we learn to see.
To see God, self, neighbors, and the world differently.
It’s like having myopia and getting fitted for corrective lenses.
I don’t remember exactly what caused me to know I could no longer see as clearly as before. Perhaps it was something my kindergarten teacher noticed and mentioned to my parents. At any rate, I only know that it wasn’t until the eye doctor first set the “right” prescription of test lenses over my eyes that I became aware of just how fuzzy the world had started to become.
And when I began to see more accurately, the world was both clearer and brighter.
In the next few weeks, we’ll explore together how we can handle both the positive things and the hard things when we see them with corrected vision.
God has seen everything about us, in our past and our present and our future.
And He still loves us so much that He is willing and desiring to draw us close and protect us.
At the end of this Psalm, the Psalmist invites God to see him again and know him deeper still.
The choice to invite Him in, to remain and to want Him to see us, in every aspect from our joys to our terrors, for an entire life’s journey: I know of no greater sign of trust and dependence.
I love my Composition 101 students. But my class session with them this past week was a tough one. That’s because I was trying to help them discover how to write an argument paper in a counterintuitive way.
Not as a soapbox to shout from or boxing match to win in one round, but as a chance to see both/all sides of an issue and learn about the roots beneath all the different thinkers holding their thoughts.
This is what a colleague recently labeled as using “dignified dialogue” — bringing more beneficial results without so much emotionally-fueled fire to burn down relationships, communities, and nations.
But this challenges my students for several reasons. For one thing, it goes against the way many of them were taught to think and write in high school. For another, it’s hard to see different and more varied gradations in the “same old” sides we have so often heard to various hot button arguments. Additionally, and perhaps most crucially in my mind, many people never learn how to consider the root issues behind different types of arguments, the source of what drives people to say what they say or feel as passionately as they feel, especially when we meet someone from an “enemy” camp.
Ironic: how right around the time of that lesson, a certain ban was passed by Alabama’s state government. (I am glad I left my phone in my office while teaching that evening because my text inbox and social media account were exploding in connection.)
I don’t usually use this space to discuss politics, and I will not go on a rant now. I do have my own strongly held beliefs on the subjects of life, choice, mothers, and babies. These have changed slightly over the course of my life, given much thought, observation, and experience, but I still hold them near and dear, without apology.
Yet, to stick to my point, as I read countless responses from friends and friends’ friends on all sides of the ban and the greater issue, all I can see are the tops of the roots: fear, anger, defensiveness, bitterness, accusations, pain. I say these are the tops of the roots, because I know these things stem from something even deeper in the hearts of the writers and the ranters.
All I can think is: what brought this person or that person to this point? Why is he so angry? Why is she so afraid? Why can’t they (on any “side”) see the fear, anger, pride, or pain of someone from another side and have enough compassion to handle their roots with care?
This is, in part, what I am helping my comp students learn how to do. I am not yet a master at it, and sometimes the arguements I meet in daily life are so volatile, I must walk away from them in silence for the sake of my own wellbeing.
But remember that experience I mentioned a moment ago? I know what is to have my own pain, anger, hatred, confusion, bitterness, and fear plainly seen by the Master Teacher-Gardener (One who was also a Master of dignified dialogue). And I know what it is to have Him uncover, clean, and prune my roots with great tenderness.
When I have been seen thusly and come out the better for it, I find I must, for my part, follow His example to approach those around me and seek to be both dignified and compassionate in all my communication with them.
Who is it hardest to truly be seen by? God? Other people? Or our own heart, when reality is faced?
Perhaps all of the above, each in its own way. These were the thoughts that moved me to create this artistic piece and to write a poem afterward. The poem below, entitled Ashes Sprout Beauty, is a collection of eight stanzas, each written as a haiku.
I will leave you to ponder it, dear reader. Be seen, and embrace the beauty that can spring forth.
Shadows hide poorly Because eyes adjust to find What’s been all along.
Yet I grasp shadows: Imaginary blankets Of security,
Until my fingers Find they are grasping only Dense smoke and mirrors.
So, now, you ask me “Whose eyes were opened to see: Yours, mine, or the Lord’s?”
Not the Lord’s, for He Has always shone, bright and clear, Seeing…and loving still.
Perhaps yours now glimpse The fragile outlines beneath Gray veils too long worn.
But it is I who Must, truly and fully, name That seen by my heart:
Light shines through fractures To nourish petals—hidden Treasure of beauty.
Language changes with time. Sometimes the language itself…and sometimes our usage or cultural understanding of it.
Take the ways in which Americans have spoken of those who are not average or normal in a mental, physical, or developmental sense. Generations ago, such people might have been labeled as simple, infirm, mad, or pitiful. When I was young, the term retarded was used interchangeably as a psychological label for certain children and adults and also informally to describe something that was foolish or dumb. Shortly after this, I often heard the word handicapped used to describe people who had a wide variety of conditions; we just stuck another adjective in front (such as physically or mentally) to specify which category of abnormality we were describing.
And now, the term I heard thrown around in every direction, especially for children and young adults is specialneeds. We don’t want to speak of people with limitations and possibly problematic conditions in a way that sounds remotely demeaning or negative. So we label them as special.
I am not poking fun at anyone; I write this in all seriousness. And I am not trying to say people with certain limitations should be denied needed assistance; yes, let we who are on the more average and normal end of the spectrum have understanding and compassion for them (and their caregivers).
What I am saying is: I find it ironic that we would now use the term special needs to refer to such individuals when we are all special in God’s sight and we all have needs in God’s sight. Only God sees each one of us with so much individual love and intimate understanding. And only God sees the needs we have that no one else knows about — or knows the depths of. (Arguably, even those people who are extremely dramatic and open about their needs often have even deeper needs that only God really understands and can fill.)
But being seen can be scary. Especially for those of us who are labeled as normal or average in our society, who are not listed as special needs individuals, and who try to hold it together for the sake of sticking out as admirable instead of sticking out as special.
And yet, for whatever cosmetics we may put on, fences we may put up, and virtual posts we may put out, we are still special, needy, frail, and limited.
Sometimes we need the reminder to stop running, hiding, purchasing, glossing, binging, or denying…and to stand still and openly before the One from whom we cannot hide.
And know that when we are seen by Him, we are truly and rightly seen.
At least according to the author of the text I currently use to teach English Composition.
As my Comp 101 students dive into the world of personal essays, they are encouraged to consider centering their essay on truth. But they are also urged to note that some truth is “the” truth (what is real or truly happened) and what is “a” truth (how only they remembered or perceived something).
So how do we know that we really know the truth?
I have tried to remain openminded and watched my current group of students wrestle through understanding this distinction in the past few weeks (while clearing professional and personal hurdles of my own). Meanwhile, I have reflected on this distinction more deeply from two angles, briefly summarized here.
Absolutismv.Relativism
Growing up, I was taught that the philosophy of relativism was the antithesis and enemy of orthodox faith. But while I am not advocating a free-for-all, continually-fuzzy mentality, if we are honest, followers of Jesus must recognize a tension of both absolute truth and truth we experience or know through personal situations and discovery. And we must rely on both…but in different amounts at different times.
The absolute truth is the rock foundation beneath the house. It cannot always be seen or even sometimes consciously felt. But it is there. Solid. Sure. Unbreakable. With the belief I profess, there is only one such source of this truth: the Almighty God who has revealed it generally (through creation and the natural world) and specifically (through the Holy Scriptures and the Lord Jesus Christ).
But there are also truths I know by observing things and people and the things I go through in my life. Though experiences may be similar, they are still relative, in a way, to each individual person’s mind, heart, and soul. They are true for you, or me, or both of us. They are the walls, windows, and decorative features of our houses, to continue the metaphor. Over time, these things may prove true continuously or change and adapt as we learn and relearn.
What is a follower of Christ to do with this dichotomy? First, we are to use both levels of truth to love our neighbors and share light with them. We must remember that most people want and need to hear about truth as it is knowable in real life experience, yet we must never water down the truth in order to help another person avoid life-changing discomfort. Second, when we feel conflict between the truth and our personal experience, we must remember words from Jeremiah 17 and 1 John 3: our hearts can be deceitful — or led to condemn us falsely. So if there is ever a conflict between what we hear in the Word and prayer and what we experience or “feel,” we must always rely more heavily on the former and use it as our foremost litmus test for ultimate truth.
The Renewed Mind
Speaking of being deceived, many of us have, somewhere along the line, started believing things as “truth” that are not really true at all. These things may be totally bogus or partly true but skewed. And they have been told to us consciously or subconsciously, actively or passively, by members of our family, community, or collective culture.
We perceive these lines and concepts as true. But they are not. Yet, to recognize them as lies and let go of them when they may have been with us for years or even a lifetime…? That’s like rocketing through the roof of the house, shooting past the atmosphere, and flying (weightless and untethered) in zero gravity.
But again, as a follower of Jesus, I recognize I am called to this. To fix my eyes on Him. To be filled with His truth. To let go of the lies and half truths that have driven me toward unnecessary, unattainable, or even ungodly ends, and to float in the weightlessness of His grace.
Then, in His time, He is renewing my mind and grounding me again on the foundational understanding of truth.
His truth.
The truth.
And when we knowthe truth, then we will be truly free (John 8:32, 36).
Amen…for each of us who would have the desperation and courage to embrace it.
I wonder what it was like from the angels’ point of view that Maundy Thursday night?
First, to see the final necessary Passover feast eaten by the Lamb who would redefine the whole tradition. Then, to see the Man with divine DNA wrestle with His destiny to the point of truest agony. And then, to witness the chaos of a sword-wielding defense and guards trying in vain to capture more than One prisoner.
I wonder, if angels have feelings, how they felt when the garden was once again silent and empty, and the moonlight shone upon the spot where they had strengthened Him.
And did they, to any greater degree than the scattered, bewildered disciples, know what was coming next?
