Monday, February 20, 2012


I love the human eye. What a gift God gave us in the nifty contraption. I’m thankful at 41 (Yes, I said that out loud.) that I don’t require glasses.

Still, sometimes I just don’t see. Actually, I guess now I’m not talking about differentiating between individual leaves as I drive through the woods. Not even close. I’m talking about God’s view, and my view. Often two different things.

You know what a search for the word eyes returns on the Biblegateway? Genesis to Revelation, 21 pages of results.

Tears streaming from eyes. Eyes that see, but don’t obey. Eyes that fail. Eyes that gloat over Zion. Seven eyes of the Lord that range throughout the Earth. Eyes too pure to look upon evil. Eyes healed by Jesus. Hmmm.

Mark 8
Jesus Heals a Blind Man at Bethsaida
 22 They came to Bethsaida, and some people brought a blind man and begged Jesus to touch him. 23 He took the blind man by the hand and led him outside the village. When he had spit on the man’s eyes and put his hands on him, Jesus asked, “Do you see anything?”
 24 He looked up and said, “I see people; they look like trees walking around.”
 25 Once more Jesus put his hands on the man’s eyes. Then his eyes were opened, his sight was restored, and he saw everything clearly.

I admit I had to read some commentaries to understand this better. This is a story of intercession, for one thing. The healing parallel is obvious, I think. We need those around us to lead us to Jesus, if not for salvation, for healing, for understanding, for wisdom and more. The passage shows God’s healing sometimes progresses gradually, and when that happens, it too is miraculous.

But the ending surprises me. I just don’t interpret the situation the same way as God, at first. After Jesus healed the man, he sent him straight home, admonishing him not to enter the village. Why not? If I received some form of healing, I would party. Immediately.

But a closer look at the context shows the people of the village could have followed Jesus outside town with the blind man and his friends. They could have wondered what Jesus intended to do. But they didn’t.

So, if I’m not curious about my God, he might not spoon feed me spiritual food. If I don’t seek Him, too, why would He let me see His work? He wants his Bride to be as passionate about Him, as He is about me – about the Body of Christ.

That passion involves seeking Him. Asking questions. Opening His Word so I can get Him a little more all the time.

But that doesn’t mean I’ll always understand. It doesn’t mean He’ll work in my timing, which I tend to prefer. It doesn’t mean I’ll get my way. And that hurts.

Sometimes getting my way means doing what I want to do on a date with my husband. It might mean God heals my knees of arthritis so I can run again. Perhaps it means my husband and I buy our dream house, without sacrificing our children’s college plans, our tithe, or our kids’ feelings of security and friendships they love. Maybe it means graduate school for a helping career, like counseling or social work. Sometimes, I do want it all; I admit it.

Still, getting what I want also means elementary-age children aren’t subjected to R-rated movies. It means children I know (and don’t) aren’t neglected, abused and berated. It means the government doesn’t blow taxpayer dollars. My way points toward noble results, too. I can keep asking, pestering God.

But I don’t get my way all the time. I often don’t see His purpose in specific situations. I just don’t have His eternal perspective. I don’t have the eyes of the Lord.

But I still won’t give up, at least not permanently. I hesitate. I falter. I mess up in very big ways. Yes, I do realize that my friends might just hold me to my word. Oh, dear.

I’m called to walk by faith, not by sight. (2 Cor. 5:7) Tough call. But important, and humbling.

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