Blindness and the Unseen

Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. (2 Corinthians 4:16-18)

It amazes me…and maybe it shouldn’t, but it does…how easily we lose track of this truth from 2 Corinthians, that “what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal,” and become focused on the “seen,” the physical. We get bogged down in the issues of our bodies and the world around us, as if that which we cannot see does not exist. In reality, so much more is going on in the realm of the unseen than we can possibly fathom, but we forget how to use anything but our eyes.

Mine aren’t always my friends. They have often been the source of trouble and great expense because I am severely myopic and my glasses always cost a fortune. I’ve been blessed to have parents who graciously help me with this, and, although I hate being a burden on them at this age, I am extremely thankful for their help.

I once had what I thought might be a little prophecy, a glimpse of a future in which I could no longer see well enough to read charts and sheet music. I thought that maybe God was telling me to learn to memorize and play more by ear and feel, so that I wouldn’t have to stop playing altogether when I became blind. In reality, I’ve had issues reading music for years, and, although I know some of that is rustiness from lack of practice, I know that if I’d heeded the warning and worked more on memorizing, I would have, in the process, achieved the proficiency I’ve always wished I had. Now I seldom play because I’m too busy studying. My eyes are constantly fixed on the “seen” pages of books, websites, and emails, and distracted by the condition of my house, my clothes, etc. These are the things that drag me down and take my eyes off of God and the unseen. Thankfully, He doesn’t need me to be watching to do His work.

I learned recently that I am a visual/tactile learner. Now I joke with myself that the tactile will be especially handy when I go blind and have to learn Braille. Seriously, though, I think another kind of blindness is more my issue—spiritual blindness. Often I am totally oblivious to it, but sometimes it’s as vivid to me as the blind spots that come with my visual migraines. With a visual migraine, no matter how hard you try to see through the blind spot, you can’t. It moves when my eyes move, so it’s always covering the spot I’m trying to see. Similarly, in those times when I have a sense of spiritual blindness, I cannot see through the blind spot, and in both cases I have no choice but to relax and stop trying, and trust that, in time, the spot will clear and I’ll be able to see again. Meanwhile, I take some Advil in the hopes of avoiding the headache that often follows the visual migraine and find something to do that doesn’t require detailed vision.

Unfortunately, Advil does nothing to relieve the pain that sometimes comes when spiritual blindness clears. But I think prayer does. And praise. And thankfulness. A good dose of scripture couldn’t hurt either, because it reminds me that God is good. Reading the Bible also reminds me about how He works, and that He’s always there, even when I cannot see. In fact, it was reading the verse at the top today that reminded me that even obedient Christians sometimes need help remembering that there is more to life than what we can physically see with our eyes…like love and relationships, and Jesus.

Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. (Hebrews 12:2)

Ephesians 3 Again

I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God. Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen. (Eph. 3:16-20 NIV)

Apparently this is the theme for my week. Yesterday morning my teacher started class by reading us this passage. I had already used it as the introduction to my paper for her class, written a journal entry prompted by it, and referred to it in at least two conversations and one email about several different situations. Today it gives me hope about the possibilities of finding insights into a question I’ve been batting around for a couple of years. Is it possible, useful, Biblical to understand the thought processes of people who don’t think like I do? According to this verse, with God in the picture, it ought to be possible because "he is able to do immeasurably more than all we can ask or imagine." So, assuming it’s possible, then what is to be gained? Is this a valid pursuit?

I think it will be some time before I can really answer those questions in practice, but in thinking about them now I am reminded of Paul’s words in 1 Corinthians, “I have become all things to all men so that by all possible means I might save some” (1 Cor 9:22). Without seeking to understand another’s thought processes, I don’t think we can be as effective as we ought to be in truly communicating with each other, and especially in effectively communicating the love of Christ.

I realize that understanding is not achieved quickly. It requires spending time, asking questions, observing. Too often I find myself speaking instead of listening, and missing opportunities to ask questions that would lead to understanding. Often I wish I could go back and “do over” those conversations, but I know I can’t, so I pray that when the next opportunity arises, I will be a better listener. I hope and pray and have to trust that through the work of the Holy Spirit, God is teaching me how to “make the most of every opportunity” (Col 4:5).

Meanwhile, I also pray for those people I have already met that I didn't understand, to whom I didn't quite know what to say and so I just talked past them, about whom I later wondered why they would say the things they did. I suppose it's unrealistic to expect to understand them all, but at least I'd like to have done a better job at trying, and pray that in the future I wouldn't shrink from a discussion with those who like to argue, or work so hard to fill the empty spaces in the conversation with anecdotes and quips.

Some might say there's danger in this pursuit because in understanding their perspectives, I may lose sight of my own. I suppose that's a valid concern, especially since I think it is part of the reason I have not pursued certain conversations in the past. I think I was afraid of losing my religion in the process of understanding theirs. Would that really happen? Is there really anything anyone could say that would stop me from believing what I already know? And if the conversation raised troubling questions, wouldn't I go back to God for those answers and in the process find greater strength and breadth and depth in my faith? That's how it's supposed to work, isn't it? I think it is. God promises to give wisdom, unfailing love, and to be there no matter what. So what am I afraid of?

"What, then, shall we say in response to this? If God is for us, who can be against us?" (Romans 8:31)

Quiet Time, Showers and Blindness

There is a sort of conventional wisdom that says profound thoughts come from sitting on the toilet. The sitcom “Scrubs” pokes fun at this in an episode in which the janitor installs an “epiphany toilet” on the roof of the hospital: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bmn1ts_AIhA . But, for me, the best place for profound thinking is the shower. I’m not sure why, although I suspect that is partly because I frequently take a shower right after I finish praying and reading the Bible. So, I suppose, it’s no surprise that today’s shower brought forth this profound comparison: Taking a shower is like daily quiet time.

You may be thinking, “Why on earth would a shower be like quiet time?” Or maybe you’re saying, “Well, of course it is, and why didn’t you think of this sooner?” Just in case you’re one of those thinking more in the why vein, I’ll tell you, and for those of you who think you know, you may be surprised, because here’s my reason: Both of these are something I religiously do daily but which I also tend to want to avoid. There are some obvious aspects to this, and some not so obvious. Sometimes I don’t really feel like I need a shower or my time seeking God, but logic tells me that whether or not I feel needy, there is benefit to doing it anyway and it just plain must be done. Sometimes I just do not want to take the time required for showering or seeking God, because I am anxious to move on to other things. And sometimes I am not looking forward to dealing with unpleasant issues. In the shower, this might be shaving my legs, which is one of those annoying chores that goes with being a woman. In seeking God, this might be confronting some bad behavior I need to change. None of these things stops me from doing what needs to be done, but instead keeps me from getting to it as quickly or with a willing spirit.

It occurs to me that in both cases, sometimes I dread taking a shower or spending God time, not because of the action itself, but because of what comes afterwards. In the case of the shower, this means deciding what to wear, a process I hate. To get around this, I made a deal with myself that rather than spending 30 minutes trying things out and exhibiting my tendency toward extreme indecision, I would put on the first thing I saw or thought of and stop there. It works pretty well most of the time, but I still have a bit of reluctance about it. Similarly, what comes after my quiet time is sometimes the need to put into practice what I have just learned, or to wear what I thought about, in a sense. If I have faced a difficult issue or made a life-changing realization through seeking God, I cannot just walk away as if it never happened, although I’ll be honest, sometimes I try to.

Now to the more obvious comparison: Both showers and God-time make us clean, and frequently in ways we cannot necessarily see. We know that sometimes we cannot tell for ourselves how badly we need to be clean. We cannot always smell ourselves, but on the chance that others might smell what we can’t, we shower. I think prayer and Bible reading work in the same way. We do not always know what God needs to do in us, but we seek him, and then he does his work in us in ways that we cannot always see. He makes us cleaner on the inside, just like the shower gets us clean on the outside.

Ok, in the end, maybe it’s not so profound, but isn’t it a little fun to think about? In case you just said “Yes” or even “Yeah, I guess, maybe,” I’ll tell one more thing I thought about in the shower today: Blindness. When I take a shower, I have to take my glasses off, so I can’t really see much except colors and rough shapes. I find my way because I’m pretty careful to keep everything in its place, but sometimes I have to feel my way around a bit—like when the shampoo and conditioner get switched around or moved, and I have to feel the shape of the bottle to figure out which is which. Or if something falls on the floor, I have to close my eyes to keep the water from getting in and feel around to find whatever fell because I can’t see it. If I could wear my glasses or keep my eyes open, things would be easy to find and the whole process might be quicker, but I can’t and I just have to deal with that. I trust that it’s there somewhere and I keep going until I find it. I think our spiritual life is like this, too, only in a much bigger way because there is so much we can’t see. For instance, we can’t see what’s going on in someone’s mind or heart. Sometimes we think we can, but really we can’t. Nor can we see what’s going to happen next year or tomorrow or even an hour from now. We can predict, and sometimes we do pretty well at that, but we never know for sure because things can all change in an instant. We are walking through life like people without their glasses on and even sometimes with their eyes closed. And because of this sometimes we bump into things and get hurt. But we trust that moving forward brings us closer to God and closer to wherever we need to be, and so we keep going…and going, and going.

Which brings us back to showers and quiet time. Both are vitally important, so we keep doing them. . Ok, maybe not “vitally,” exactly. You will not die if you skip either one…at least not right away…and once in awhile I give myself a day off from one or the other. But I almost always notice the difference when I do, and I would hate to see what I would be like if I went several days without either one. Both my body and my attitudes would start to stink! Not that I don’t have my moments of stinkiness anyway, but I do my best to be preventative as much as I can, and wash daily. It’s the least I can do.

Day 54 of Bible in 90 Days--Circumcise Your Hearts

Jeremiah 4:4 “Circumcise your hearts” (Also Deut 10:16 & 30:6 plus allusions in the NT?)
Consider what this really says. Cut away the extra parts? The dead parts? Cut and remove. Sounds painful. It is painful. After circumcision, a time of healing is required, so it must be painful. Cut into your heart, the very center of your being. This is major surgery. I think this is why so many Christians stay on the surface and the fringes—they’re keeping it safe, avoiding the pain, protecting their hearts from this knife. But this is what God requires of us to be truly, wholly his: to submit to the knife, to walk through the pain and into the healing of his love and grace. Otherwise, these are merely distant concepts that we know only in theory. No wonder so many Christians are not exhibiting Christ-like behavior. After the cutting, a heart is open to loving others, but without the cutting, there’s too much extra stuff in the way. We’re too busy protecting ourselves to even begin to touch others. Instead of loving, we push them away, keeping them behind the line that defines our safety zone. And that’s where we keep God, too, because ultimately we sense that he is the bearer of the knife. We fear that he wants more than we can give. We think he’ll ask us to give up or cut off things we don’t want to do without, or to go places we don’t want to go, or be something we don’t want to be. Well, he might, but once we let him cross the line and open our hearts, we find that we'd gladly give up some of these things rather than go back to life without him.

I know it was like this with me. For years, I was standing on the other side of the line, only in my mind it was a fence. I was standing on the outside looking in at passionate Christians thinking I could never be like that, that I didn't want to be like that. But in the process I was also holding in a lot of hurt, and the circumcision I was avoiding exposed all that. I was holding God off in the distance so I didn't have to face the hurt. Instead I was busy being tough, and hurting a lot of other people in the process. I can't even imagine who all those people might be, so if you're reading this and you're one of those, I'm sorry. I hope I'm not at all like that anymore.

Bible in 90 Days - Day 2

It's only the second day and already I've learned some important lessons. One is that I can't lollygag around about getting to this reading! The first day I took my time about starting into quiet time, read my usual devotional books and then started on the 90-day reading plan, only to be interrupted because my time was up and my walking partner was ready to hit the track. When I got back, I tried to go back to the reading and was interrupted again and again because now the world was awake. So today, day 2, I got up early and started with the 90-day reading first instead of last. It's 8:15 and I'm done, yay!

As I read today, I found myself wanting to write about some of what I was reading, which was something I had stopped doing over time but hadn't understood why. I think the reason is that I used to read with the intention of reading until something struck me, but over time I had fallen into a pattern of just reading one chapter a day. Now, reading more, I realize that I need to remember to expect more from my reading and not just settle for a chapter and no response.

These are some of the passages that struck me today:

1. Genesis 17 & Circumcision--How odd that must have seemed to them. They were all adults! Can you imagine Abraham telling these men to do this? "Here, cut this skin off me, will you?"
2. Genesis 19 & Sodom--The Sodomite men wanted to have sex with the two angels and Lot considers that worse than offering them his virgin daughters. Hmmm.... Also, it seems this is what prompts the angels to make up their minds about destroying the city.
3. Genesis 25 & Wife #2--I never realized that Abraham remarried after Sarah died and had 6 more sons!
4. Genesis 21 & 25 & Ishmael--God promised to bless Ishmael because Abraham asked him to, even though God made him send Ishmael away, and then Ishmael had 12 sons, just like Isaac did, and those sons became 12 tribes, also just like Isaac's sons. I think that's the last we hear of them, though.

Bible in 90 Days

I first saw the challenge on Bible Gateway. The banner ad said, "Do what 75 million people dream about: Take the Bible in 90 days challenge, June 1 - August 29." (You can check it out here.) I'm not sure why that caught my eye. Maybe because that is almost exactly how much time I have before I start grad school? Maybe because having just finished a degree in literature, I want to try reading the Bible fast enough to get a better sense of the broader themes?

Since I became more serious about my faith 7 years ago, I have read through the Bible twice. I read a little each day, sometimes a chapter or two, or sometimes considerably less if I'm struck by something and decide to stop and pray about it. I have learned a lot about God in the process, but by the time I get to the end, I've long forgotten the beginning because of the great amount of time that has passed. So I am curious to see if my perspective and understanding change as a result of a faster read-through.

I'm also intrigued by the prospect of a 90-day read-through because this semester I read Kant's essay, "What is Enlightenment" and strongly agree with his suggestion that we need to develop our own understanding without having to rely entirely on someone else's guidance. Similarly, I think Kant would agree that we need to know the Bible for ourselves, not just through what others have told us about it. And knowing the Bible enables us to know God more directly, which is ultimately what we're all seeking. I'm hoping the faster read will help me to know the Bible better, and, as a result, to know God better, as well.

Book of the Week

Yes, the week. I'm a slow reader these days. It's so hard to sit still long enough to finish a chapter, let alone a book. So many other things to do! But tomorrow I see the eye doctor and soon, hopefully, I'll be able to speed the reading back up a little. Here's what I'm working on:

Traveling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith
by Anne Lamott
This is one of my favorite authors. I've actually read this book before, years ago, but since the director of the literacy center gave this to me as a thank-you gift last spring, I decided to read it again. Anne writes both fiction and non-fiction. This one is non-fiction and tells how she came to faith (one of the most interesting salvation stories you'll ever read) and how she deals with life, death, parenthood, and lots of other everyday situations.

Here's one of my favorite passages so far:

It's funny: I always imagined when I was a kid that adults had some kind of inner toolbox, full of shiny tools: the saw of discernment, the hammer of wisdom, the sandpaper of patience. But then when I grew up I found that life handed you these rusty bent old tools--friendships, prayer, conscience, honesty--and said, Do the best you can with these, they will have to do. And mostly, against all odds, they're enough.

It's great because it's true, at least in my experience.

One of my professors told me this semester that I shouldn't be afraid to speak up and be who I am, because one of the things I bring to the table at 45 from which 20-year-olds could benefit is judgment--not in the criticizing sense, but in the sense of wisdom gained through experience, kind of like what Anne describes in the passage above. I don't know how much I really contributed in this way to that class or any other. Probably if I said anything all that wise, I didn't realize it.

I did get to see how a lot of our "wisdom" is perceived, though. One night at a group study session, the conversation turned from literature to the meaning of life and the statement many had heard, "money isn't everything." There was great debate about whether that was really true, or was more of an old wive's tale. Someone compared it to the proverbial stories about walking to school through the snow, and thought that those who said "money isn't everything" said that because they didn't have any, or were trying to sound wise when they really were just old. I don't remember saying anything. I don't think they realized that I was one of these "old" people they were talking about, since most people who try to guess my age don't put me over 30 (thank you, God!). They talked as if we were all in our 20's, and I just listened, fascinated. I hope I learned something.