What do you see? It may depend on what you’re learning to look for
By Mark A. Taylor
Decades ago, at a writers conference sponsored by Standard Publishing, main speaker Roy Lawson told about visiting the Grand Canyon with his young family.
As they approached the rim the first time, he was awestruck by the grandeur of the multicolored cliffs shimmering in the sunlight. “Oh, look!” he exclaimed. And then he felt his daughter tugging at his pant leg.
“Oh, look!” she said, and pointed to a small flower blooming brilliantly at their feet.
Frankly, I forget what application he made from the illustration. Maybe he challenged us to write about the beauty in our worlds that others may be missing. Whatever his point, here’s mine: We see what we’re looking for. Admittedly, that’s not an original thought. But in our age of skepticism, suffering, worry, and warfare, we do well to remember we can still find beauty, if not ahead of us, then perhaps blossoming at our feet. Sometimes we just need to look for it.
And if we’ll look for God, we’ll see him at work, too.
Keep looking
But some quit looking. I knew a fellow who said he became an atheist when God didn’t answer his prayer to heal his wife. But I know several other widowers whose grief has driven them to discover how God works through, and in, and in spite of, and sometimes even because of their loss. They see God at work where my friend just gave up on him and looked the other way.
Perhaps this is because my friend, whose Jewish heritage had not developed into vibrant faith, wasn’t prepared to see God in the midst of tragedy.
Get ready
We see what we’re fit to see, William Barclay wrote in his commentary on the sixth Beatitude. (Call this post a postscript to the series on the Beatitudes I finished last week.)
“If the ordinary person goes out on a night of stars,” Barclay wrote, “he sees only a host of pinpoints of light in the sky; he sees what he is fit to see. But in that same sky the astronomer will call the stars and the planets by their names, and will move amongst them as his friends; and from that same sky the navigator could find the means to bring his ship across the trackless seas to the desired haven.”
Today our email inboxes and Facebook threads are peppered with stories of bravery and sacrifice and faith in God among Ukrainian Christians. We see God at work in a church basement harboring dozens of infants with nowhere else to be safe. We see God in the displaced seminarians now spending their days to feed refugees who have joined them across the border. We see God in the host of Christian ministries scrambling to send aid to the suffering.
Faced with the senseless tragedy of this terrible war, we may be tempted to give up on God, to question how he could let this happen, to add this horror to our own personal list of complaints against him. But sometimes such a reaction isn’t a matter of weak faith any more than inadequate preparation.
Take the time
A trained chef looks at the leftovers in your pantry and refrigerator and sees the making of a delicacy. My concoction with the same ingredients could easily turn into a bland or gloppy mess. He knows what I haven’t taken the time to learn.
The landscaper looks at your yard and sees the possibilities for a nurturing, blooming, green getaway. But too often when I look out my back window all I see is hard work and endless weeding. As I get older, I’m tempted to give up on it. Maybe it’s too late for me to master what the landscaper has spent years learning.
The winning coach looks at the freshman recruits to his team and sees the skills that can be developed, the temperaments that can be shaped, the abilities that can be combined to create a championship team. I would look at the same crew and miss all of that. Nothing has equipped me to see the possibilities.
It’s a matter of preparation. Overnight cramming seldom readies a student to pass the next exam. Likewise, last-minute prayers and frantic searches for a helpful Bible verse don’t build a stalwart faith.
The more I pray, the more I see God answering prayers.
The more I open the Bible, the more I understand how God works.
Frankly, I wish I had been more disciplined and determined on both fronts in past years. But my experience with each shows me there’s no substitute for day-by-day connection with God and his ways.
Seek God
The ancient prophet Jeremiah knew this was true. His peers were languishing in exile, far from the home where they’d first known God. His word from the Lord to them then helps any of us who may feel captive to gloom today: “You will seek me and find me, when you seek me with all your heart,” he wrote.
It’s a promise I’m holding on to today.
Photos by Hugo Soons and Aaron Burden at Unsplash
To receive daily posts delivered directly to your inbox, complete the form at the bottom of our home page.
To download a printable version of today’s post, click here.
A Note from the Editor . . . Starting next week
Watch for guest writers appearing from time to time in this Saturday Posts space. I will continue to write often, but we’re pleased to welcome friends and associates from Dean’s circle of influence to share their insights in this space. Don’t miss next week’s Saturday Post, written by Wye Huxford, dean of the college of Biblical studies and ministry at Point University. Meanwhile, perhaps you’ll be interested in the new blog/website I have launched, where I’m writing every week. Come visit Unchosen Journey: A Caregiver’s Walk with Alzheimer’s. —Mark A. Taylor