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.
