The Greatest Gift

Even so, while [Jesus] saw the possibilities of seed-sowing, sometimes He refused to  do it: "Great multitudes came to hear and to be healed of their infirmities. But He withdrew Himself in the desert and prayed. He refused to do good. He refused to do good in order to do a higher good - to Himself. His greatest gift was Himself, so He must keep that self at its highest. Hence the prayer hour was kept intact in order to keep a higher contact. In this He was realistic. (Is the Kingdom of God Realism? E. Stanley Jones, 24)

 Or what can a man give in exchange for his soul? (Jesus, Mark 8:37)

Such a simple switch,

A mere moving of words,

But when the ideas are planted

Their roots run deep,

Not easily pulled out.

Here it is:

"I must feel better

before I can get better.

The sickness of our world

Stands on this idea,

On these simple words.

And so, all the frantic

Activity and all the pills

And foods and diets and

exercises and bodily contortions 

and all the life-sucking

relationships and habits

Done in secret,

Done because I must feel better

First.

We are all sick

With it all,

So hard to see health

When the pain is so great.

It screams, "Just make it stop!

I just want to feel better!"

We are all sick

Which is why the first

step is not feeling better

but getting better.

Yes, I must get better

before I can feel better.

Recovery and repentance

First.

This is not about being sorry

and certainly not about

being ashamed.

Such feelings only exacerbate

the pain and throw us

back into the world's

sickness and corruption.

No, this is about

getting better.

Resting, reading,

Eating, smiling,

Seeking the comfort and help

from those who love,

God most of all.

This is about

Taking his medicines

And staying away from

sickness and sin and secrets

Until our immunity

Recovers and grows.

Goodness must do its work

In us

Before goodness can do its work

Out of us.

The pain must be killed 

And will be killed

Not by numbing addictions

or consuming relationships,

But by recovering strength,

Grace from God

Taken every day

In every way

Is the only way

To make it through today.

You will not find many

Friends in this way,

But they will show up

When you step out of the crowd

And really touch His cloak

Or raise your voice

Above the din:

"Son of David, have mercy

on me!"

 The world is a sick place,

but not really a place for the sick.

It is only a place for the dying,

not the recovering.

Step away, step out,

Do not be squeezed into its mold

Of feeling better

Before you can get better.

Join the sick

who seek true health.

That is why Jesus

came: recovery.

His message is clear:

"You must get better

Before you can feel better.

The kingdom of God

Is near to you.

Reach out

And live."

Looking, Seeing, and Believing in God Incarnate

Devotional Classics, Annie Dillard, Excerpts from Pilgrim at Tinker Creek

There is another way of seeing that involves a letting go.  When I see this way I sway transfixed and emptied.  The difference between the two ways of seeing is the difference between walking with and without a camera.  When I walk with a camera I walk from shot to shot, reading the light on a calibrated meter.  When I walk without a camera, my own shutter opens, and the moment’s light prints on my own silver gut.  When I see this second way I am above all an unscrupulous observer.

The world’s spiritual geniuses seem to discover universally that the mind’s muddy river, this ceaseless flow of trivia and trash cannot be dammed, and trying to dam it is a waste of effort that might lead to madness.  Instead you must allow the muddy river to flow unheeded in the dim channels of consciousness; you raise your sights; you look along it, mildly, acknowledging its presence without interest and gazing beyond it into the realm of the real where subjects and objects act purely without utterance.

The secret of seeing is, then, the pearl of great price. . . .  But although the pearl may be found, it may not be sought. . . .  I cannot cause light; the most I can do is try to put myself in the path of its beam.  It is possible, in deep space, to sail on solar wind.  Light, be is particle or wave, has force: you rig a giant sail and go.  The secret of seeing is to sail on solar wind.  Hone and spread your spirit till you yourself are a sail, whetted, translucent, broadside to the nearest puff.

It was less like seeing that like being for the first time seen, knocked breathless by a powerful glance.  The flood of fire abated, but I’m still spending the power. . . .  I was still ringing.  I had been my whole life a bell, and never knew it until that moment I was lifted and struck. (pp. 345-3457)

Then Jesus laid his hands on his eyes again; and he looked intently and his sight was restored, and he saw everything clearly.  (Mark 8:26)

One of the wonders of being out in the beauty of nature is that I learn quickly that I cannot truly enjoy it until I can really “see” it.  I hear phrases like “taking it all in” or “being really present.”  What these point to is that looking at something or someone is not necessarily seeing them.  I must first practice seeing before I can really find beauty or meaning or depth in what I look at.

Dillard’s illustration of walking with a camera and without is good.  When I move from “shot to shot,” I have certain things I am looking for.  I see beauty through a lens where beauty is predefined and predetermined.  My experience is limited by my “eye” for a good shot and my expectations of what those shots look like.  I look, but do not see.

Without the camera, I might find that I myself become the camera.  I take in the scenes and watch them carefully.  They imprint themselves on my inner eye leaving not so much a picture, but a deep impression.  The media changes from a picture to a memory.

Looking sets my eyes in a direct line with the object.  Seeing often grasps what is at the edges of my sight.  Whatever is directly before me is influenced by what is beside me in my peripheral vision.  What I see comes from what “broadsides” me more than what is in the center of my vision.  The angles of seeing are skewed and scattered from what I look at.

Seeing involves letting go of looking.  When I look, I am transfixed by the many thoughts and feelings that parade in my mind.  I seek to gaze and wonder at these inner sights.  Seeing often means looking beyond the parade.  It still goes by and I have to let it go.  Seeing is not trying to stop the march of thoughts and feelings, but to stand aside from them for a time.  Instead of looking at what I may think about certain things or people, I allow them to stand on their own and give me an impression.  I let them give me an impression instead of trying to gather one myself.

The experience of seeing is remarkably similar among people.  There is universality to it.  It is not unheard of, but often it is infrequent.  Such experiences leave a mark, like the continued ringing of a bell.  It is struck, but it continues ringing.  It is more gift than achievement.  It is the pearl of great price that cannot be sought, but it can be found.  The proper response to seeing is “Thank you” more than “Eureka!”  In this way, I am seeing clearly.

Like the sun or rain which God gives to the evil and good, the righteous and unrighteous, seeing is a gift.  What makes the gift into a grace is the position of my heart before God.  If I humbly adore God, seeing is believing.  If seeing leads me to God incarnate, seeing is believing.  If I find myself waiting for God, seeing is believing.  Moving from looking to seeing is one step.  Moving from seeing to believing is another.

Lord, I find myself too impatient to see.  I find myself too worried or proud to believe.  Open my eyes.  Open my heart.  Give me sight.  Heal me.  Help me to see clearly.  Amen.

Solitude and silence help me to see.  They increase my awareness.   Prayer and meditation on the Bible help my seeing become believing.  They increase my love.