Seeing

As I continue to make my way in and through the presbytery, getting to know people and congregations, I am struck by how important seeing is. Seeing is more than simple sight. Seeing is far more than looking at someone or something. Real and actual seeing takes someone and something within us. 

We see things and people literally all the time. Driving to work, or taking the kids to school, we pass by all sorts of things—neighborhoods, shopping centers, traffic, folks on the sidewalk, trees, wandering dogs, etc. We see them. But then our minds begin to filter stuff out, keeping only what is necessary. Driving on US 50, we see all sorts of other cars, but the one we remember is the knucklehead who decides twenty feet before the off-ramp to cut across three lanes to make the exit. We see all sorts of people, but our brains will recollect only a very few who for one reason or another really stood apart from everybody else—the woman in the lavender suit, the man pushing the cart with 23 garbage bags stacked on it, the woman pushing the stroller who for some reason took us back to when we pushed our own children along the sidewalk for a walk—something clicks, and our mind stores the image away. The rest vanishes into the ether of forgetfulness. 

We also see things we assume we will see. Here, we cannot escape the reality that all of us come with a set of prejudices, judgments, and all else through which we create the stash of opinions by which we live. We all do this—it is a necessary survival technique—don’t go near the dog with the spiked collar tied to a fence who is staring us down—appearances tell us that there is danger present. The downside is that appearance never tells the whole story—the dog’s owner simply wanted to create the facade of viciousness to guard the house; the dog actually would cover you in kisses should you approach. We do this with each other and other people—we see them, assume we know the story, and act accordingly. The truth is that we know hardly anything about someone else just by looking at them. Still, we will act on our assumptions before really exploring who is before us.

Similarly, we see things we want to see. Two people can look at the same thing and be completely baffled because what one sees, the other doesn’t, even as they look at the same thing. In North Carolina, one of the greatest sports rivalries consumes folks as they choose between Duke and North Carolina on the basketball court. Now, Duke attracts a particular kind of basketball player—intense, stridently competitive, and aggressive. Usually, there is one player who becomes a lightning rod. Duke fans love him because he is always playing hard, always scrapping, and never backing down to any opponent. UNC fans despise him for all the same reasons because they want to despise him—competitiveness is obnoxiousness; intensity is lunacy; and aggression is just plain meanness. All depends on what you want to see.

Now—bring these ideas to church. Seeing makes an incredible difference in how we conduct ourselves in the practice of faith. We may not see everything that is before us, missing something—perhaps a key ingredient—that would expand the effectiveness of our ministry. We may take in only someone who really stands apart, crafting a program that we thought would garner a lot of attention, but find only had limited appeal and power. We can live by assumptions, seeing someone whose theology differs from ours based only on our assumptions about what such a stance means, rather than actually seeing what it means to the person in front of us. And, in church, we can see what we want to see. We want to believe ourselves to be effective, so we miss signs that something is missing. We want to see our church as a warm, welcoming haven, but overlook something that might indicate work needing to be done. 

The cure is seeing as in seeing. Here, we try to see things from another perspective. We step back, realizing that see clearly and properly, we need a different filter—another lens—to see things as they are. Here, we try to see things from another perspective. We step back, realizing that see clearly and properly, we need a different filter—another lens—to see things as they are. Christ can become that lens. Careful Gospel reading—reading done that tries to eliminate what we think we know—allows us to begin to see as Jesus sees. We can begin to attempt to see the world as God sees it, using some ticks and switches to catch ourselves not seeing. Perhaps just before pulling into traffic, we whisper to ourselves, “Every human being is a child of God,” just to clue ourselves into seeing how various and varied God’s children are. Things like that—try them—see if it doesn’t begin to sharpen our focus, clarify the view, and help us to be what we need to be. 

Brasstown Bald is the tallest mountain in Georgia. Its summit usually is hazed over by clouds, distant dust, or just the moisture in the air. Every now and then, though, the air gets swept clean by wind, and suddenly instead of just the nearby ridges and rills, a great sweep of country comes into view, all the way to the towers of Atlanta, some 113 miles away. It is spectacular and nearly everyone up there on such a day comments that they had no idea how clear, clear could be.