Sometime between the hours of four and five this morning my husband’s alarm clock rang out with the reminder of the lunar eclipse that was about to take place. Before I even opened my eyes my ears could hear the wind chimes outside my bedroom window whispering warnings of the storm clouds banking in the sky. It was unlikely for us to see the Blood Moon eclipse, but still we ventured into the dark morning and headed out to find an open western horizon.
Once we found our lookout we parked and waited for the skies to miraculously clear, but it was not to be. The only thing we could see in the distance was the faint light of town and a few flashes of lightning. The eclipse still happened, we just couldn’t see it. It would have happened even if we had stayed in bed and slept until we woke up naturally, but faith called us out to witness. We believed even though we could not see.
I believe in many things I cannot see, spiritual and physical. Yesterday my husband called me outside to see if I could identify a duck that was swimming on our back pond. By the time I made it outside he had lost sight of it and handed the binoculars to me to see if I could find it. I put my eyes to the lenses and waggled the focus bar, but everything was still blurry. I had to ask him, again, if I am supposed to focus my right eye first or my left eye. Apparently there is a science to focusing binoculars, and I do not know the formula. After much adjusting my field of vision came into clear focus, and I found the little brown duck nestled in a small cove under a half green, half dead willow tree. She was bobbing her head in and out of the water, no doubt dabbing in the muck, just like my pet ducks used to do before they became some critter’s dinner.
My eyes went back to the mangy willow and to my delight I saw not one but two small blue herons (or the like) sitting in the living half of the tree, and a bluebird sitting in another tree on the front bank of the pond. About that same time my husband saw one of the herons and pointed it out to me. I handed the binoculars to him and looked towards the tree but without the binoculars the herons were completely invisible to me. If it hadn’t been for the binoculars or my husband pointing them out I would have never known they were there. In fact I would have never seen the duck or the bluebird either.
It’s a common event for me to notice a new building on my drive to work. And by that I mean I will notice a new, completed building, but have no memory of seeing it go through its different phases of construction. Yesterday I noticed a small bed of Johnny Jump Ups blooming in my garden. Johnny Jump Ups are winter flowers which means they’ve probably been blooming since the fall. I only noticed them yesterday.
Why is it I look but I do not see? Why do I see but I do not recognize?
As the season of Easter dawns tomorrow my hope is I will recognize Jesus when I see Him. Like the elusive eclipse this morning I have faith He Is even though I cannot see him with my eyes. I know He Is in the breaking of the bread. I know He Is in the eyes of strangers. He clears a path of opportunities for me to find Him. Sometimes I look, but I do not see. More times I see but I do not recognize.
I want to see and know. I want to learn the formula to bring my faith into clear and concise focus. My prayer tonight as I sit in the Easter vigil and hold the Light of Christ will be a prayer for us all. My prayer will be for God’s amazing grace to claim all who seek it, and our eyes will be opened at last.