Oh, Lord, Teach Me to See

At some point during my third grade year, my family was sitting around the living room and my parents began discussing an upcoming trip to the eye doctor for my oldest brother. I looked up from the book I was reading and said brightly, “Oh, yeah, Mom, my teacher says I should get my eyes checked.”

She thought it was strange, as I had never mentioned having trouble seeing, but they did schedule an appointment for me as well.

When the day came, I sat down in the big chair and the doctor pointed to the wall. “Read to me the smallest letters you can see.”

I stared at the wall for a bit and my mother sat beside me, trying to decide which line I might be able to read. After a moment I turned confused eyes to the doctor. “I don’t see any letters.”

Later my mother told me how shocked she had been. “Tasha,” she explained, “there was a huge E on the wall!”

The day we picked up my glasses, I walked out of the office in awe. I kept pointing out signs, and colors, and fascinating details. The world was vastly different than I had thought. So much larger and more vibrant.

My mother moaned at my exclamations. “Oh, Tasha, why didn’t you tell me you couldn’t see?!” 

The answer, of course, was simple. It wasn’t until my vision was corrected that I realized how blind I had truly been.

God explained something essentially important to the church of Laodecia in Revelation 3. To the ones who thought they were rich, clothed in their own strength, and well established– God points out their vast mistake.

They were lukewarm beggars. Weak, naked, poor, and blind.

I have been there. I have been the blinded fool, stumbling around, thinking I could see. I have been clothed in worthless rags and thought that I was rich.

I’ve stood in front of a church and thought that I was honoring God, when I was only honoring myself.

I’ve claimed a faith when in my heart, I only believed in my own strength.

I have looked around at others and thought that I could see their faults so clearly, when I was actually only seeing the evidence of my own sin.

Weak. Naked. Poor. Blind.

I am so thankful that God is in the business of healing.

With repentance comes grace. Overflowing. Abundant.

He is standing at the door, knocking. Calling to each of us to open our hearts, and let Him work His healing power.

And once our eyes our opened, we will never be content to live in darkness again. For there is so much of Him in the world. God’s hand swirling the details of this life together with vibrancy and beauty. His grace, in every part.

Let us all be like Bartimaeus, who was asked by Jesus, “What do you want me to do for you?” And Bartimaeus gets it right. He chooses the thing we all need. He says, “Lord, I want to see.”