Earth's crammed with Heaven and every common bush afire with God
But only those who see take off their shoes
The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries

Emily Dickinson
Showing posts with label seeing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label seeing. Show all posts

Monday, November 28, 2011

Seeing Between the Blinks of the Eye

My father once said that the seeing of God is not like the seeing of man. Man sees only between the blinks of his eyes. He does not know what the world is like during the blinks. He sees the world in pieces, in fragments. But the Master of the Universe sees the world whole, unbroken. That world is good. Our seeing is broken, Asher Lev. Can we make it like the seeing of God? Is that possible?
Chiam Potok - The Gift of Asher Lev
For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known.  1 Cor. 13:12 ESV

There is a piece of artwork displayed in the art gallery of my mind. Regretfully, I do not have the skill with either camera or paint to take it from my mind and reproduce it for you out in the open. I will try to sketch it roughly with words.

It is a picture of a mosaic constructed from mirrored fragments. The bright mirrored pieces are separated by dark opaque spaces. Reflected in the mirrors is a face, fractured and distorted by the dark cracks between the mirrors.

That is life for a human in this age. This world is broken. All we see is reflected in that broken mirror, fractured by the cracks.

Sometimes even the light reflected in the mosaic is indistinct in my vision. All I can see is the negative space, the darkness in between. I see broken relationships, sealed with anger. I see broken bodies, wracked with pain. I see souls imprisoned, sentenced to the solitary confinement of loneliness. I see hate and even worse, apathy. I see cruelty. I see evil, though I can only bear to see it for a second before I close my mind to its horror. There is One does not close his eyes to these things, not even to blink.

Sometimes I focus on the reflected light. A fragment of a small child's unselfconscious delight in his mommy, a shard of shared laughter, a chunk of pure intimacy. There is One who sees all this, and all else. He sees without the dark cracks, without distortion because he is the Word "who is and who was and who is to come, the Almighty."   (Rev.1:8, ESV)

It is possible, at least partially possible, to see through someone else's eyes. It happens most notably with old people, husbands and wives who love each other well over two lifetimes. As the end of their time together draws to a close, sometimes they glimpse the world as the other sees it, before a dark crack of noise, or hunger, or pain breaks the view. We can see clearly, for a moment, if we see through the eyes of the Alpha and Omega. If we get quiet, and spend a lot of time in His presence, we sometimes glimpse the world as He sees it.

He not only sees fully, He knows fully. He gazes in person, at the explosion of a supernova, as bright as a billion suns. With his naked eye he sees the empty space between the nucleus of an atom and its electrons orbiting. He sees, unblinking, what is. He knows without glancing away what was. He gazes unaided at the brilliant light that is to come. He sees you fully, too. He knows intimately every atom of your being, the light, the dark.

Someday we will see like that.

Someday, we will see fully. Someday we will know fully even as we have been fully known.

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

Those Who See

As adults, we lose our eyesight.  

I don't mean the kind that can be corrected by a visit to the eye doctor; I am talking about a more important kind of vision.  

One of my favorite authors, Anne Lamott, talks about seeing the world sacramentally, "to see everything as an outward and visible sign of inward, invisible grace. "

Some children are masters at this.  I remember years ago taking a walk with Courtney.  She was in third grade; her parents were divorcing, and I wanted to give her a little moral support.  We were walking along together and she suddenly stopped.  "Look at that flower!"  She forgot everything except the beauty before her.  I looked but couldn't see anything that could possibly have inspired awe.  She had to point to the flower right next to her before I could see it.  It wasn't too small for my eyes.  It was huge.  I couldn't see it, because it was a weed, an enormous thorny thistle in full bloom.  Patiently she taught me to see.  "It is soooo purple!  And soft!  Look, put your finger here.  Doesn't it feel like velvet?" 

Hating the nuisance and thorns of the thistle robbed me of my ability to be present and in awe of the color of the downy purple bloom.   

Seeing was a source of Emily Dickinson's genius too.  In the poem that inspired the name of this blog she says, 

Earth's crammed with Heaven and every common bush afire,
but only those who see take off their shoes...
I want to walk around my whole life with my eyes open and my shoes off, even when I walk among thistles.