As I walk out of the building, the oversized mirror spectacles always catch me looking at myself. I cannot help but take a fresh look at my eyesight. The clarity of youth is gently fading, things are not as sharp as they used to be, and shades of black and white can blur into each other. While everything I just noted applies to my eyesight, self-awareness gently whispers the observations cover a lot more of my life than I might be willing to admit.
I know I need help to see. The reality of this truth began when I was ten. I do not recall the triggering event. I vividly remember the confrontation with my mother. My denial did not stand a chance against her insistence on taking me to the optometrist. Whatever my view, I was overwhelmed by the new reality. In my heart, it was a variation on Paul’s candid awareness. “But I need something more! For if I know the law but still can’t keep it, and if the power of sin within me keeps sabotaging my best intentions, I obviously need help!” (Romans 7.17)
Even with help, I still deny what is within my vision. Truth can be uncomfortable. Seeing with clarity can invite harsh truths, ugly realities, and dark fears to the table. With this and more, I find myself wanting to close my eyes, wishing it would all disappear. Yet, it is in seeing with open eyes that I discover hope close by and catch sight of the metaphorical candle in the darkness.
When I let go and let my eyes inform me, I see more. In darkness there is hope. In confusion there is opportunity. In my human realities, there is an opportunity to embrace the Divine. I know I do not want to see less than I already see today. I may not like what I see, but in seeing with open eyes I rediscover the ways Divinity is actively part of the scene.
With Divine lenses in place, the song lives on; I can see clearly now.
