Eyes to See

Lent, Day 19

I was walking along the seashore in February, just before sunset one evening. The world around me was still and hushed except for the sound of the sea. The sun began dipping into the horizon, painting the sky with bold pinks and oranges. I marveled at how my eyes could detect each subtle shift in color—the blue and green in the sea, shadows on the sand, and the painting in the sky.

How much of what I see is filtered through my own lens — my experience, assumptions, and limitations? The things that are seen are transient. Fleeting. Just like that evening light that would soon become the dark night.

Paul reminds us in 2 Corinthians 4:18 (VOICE):

"So we do not set our sights on the things we can see with our eyes. All of that is fleeting; it will eventually fade away. Instead, we focus on the things we cannot see, which live on and on."

I’m grateful for physical sight. I’m thankful to distinguish shades and tones, light and shadow. But, more and more, I ask how am I interpreting what I see? Are these just the eyes of experience — or are they becoming the eyes of faith?

Madeleine L’Engle once said,

“I doubt if there’s any such thing as total objectivity. We listen out of our own skins, our own ears, see through our own eyes with their various myopias and astigmatisms… I have a point of view. You have a point of view. But God has view.”

God has view.

The older I get, the more I realize my ‘seeing’ is often incomplete. I focus on the immediate, the visible—what’s right in front of me. But God sees the whole. He sees the unseen story beneath the surface—the eternal purpose behind the momentary pain. He sees the resurrection beyond the crucifixion, even our final redemption as complete. As Jesus said, "It is finished!"

I think of Mary at the tomb, seeing a gardener, not realizing she was standing before the risen Lord. I think of the disciples on the road to Emmaus; their eyes prevented them from recognizing Jesus until bread was broken, and their hearts burned with understanding.

This Lent, I want to practice seeing differently. I want to ask, "What is God’s view here?" I want to pause before judging what I see as inconvenience, frustration, or loss and ask what unseen grace might be unfolding.

When I sit in silence, notice the light on a leaf, or listen to a story that seems small, I want to remember that God’s eternal story is woven into it all.

The visible is passing. But the unseen — the kindness, the mercy, the quiet work of God — is eternal.

The Apostle Paul writes in Ephesians 1:18 (VOICE)

Open the eyes of [our] hearts, and let the light of Your truth flood in. Shine Your light on the hope You are calling [us] to embrace. Reveal to [us] the glorious riches You are preparing as [our] inheritance.

Let's ask Him to open our eyes this season - giving us eyes of faith to discern His unseen work.

Prayer

God, You who sees our hearts
Who weighs them, searching and testing them--
You who sees even the secrets of our hearts--
Shine your light deep into our beings -
Opening the eyes of our hearts
To discern the unseen work of Your hand
May we recognize your presence in the stranger--
In the sorrowful, the small, even the angry.

Lift our eyes to the hills from whence our help comes!
Teach us to walk by faith and not by sight --
Trusting the unseen story You are weaving
Until that day when faith gives way to perfect vision--
When we shall see You face to face--
For Your glory and our good. Amen.