The Blind Can See

Posted on September 16, 2008 12:00 AM MST by Tiffany Kinerson

 Then their eyes were opened and they recognized Him…. Luke 24:31

I love the way the sun glimmers off the leaves on a tree. I used to think it was all just a mindless green. But in the hands of the sun, I see gold, forest, a sparkle of white. And when the wind blows, one leaf will dance left, swish up, others will pull right, drag down. It’s beautiful, you know.

And to think there was a time I didn’t even know that canvas of life existed.

One of my sisters told me that I asked my parents for glasses a few times before I was nine. But since I was that kid that thought braces were cool and even looked at the silver in someone’s teeth as beautiful (because of the blue hue it sent forward, of course), my parents discounted my request. Rightfully so, I’d say. But the school nurse trumped them sometime in my fourth grade year when I couldn’t see the chalkboard and I recognized my teacher only by the way she walked. And then my dream of glasses, braces, and a possible blue teeth scenario seemed to be in its first step to reality.

A week later, Mom, with my new glasses in tow, picked me up from school. I jumped in the car, reached for the case, eased the Velcro closure open, slid out the glasses, and then pow, I popped them onto my face. "Wow I can see each leaf in the tree!" It was a miracle. A beauty I’d never known before. Individual leaves.

It was both eye-opening and mind-altering. How could I have known how much beauty dwelt within the nebulous green trees I’d looked at my whole life? Well, God knew. And He waited to reveal it to me once I could understand the beauty of the miracle, once I could remember forever the joy of awareness two circles of glass outlined in tortoise-shell plastic brought me.

In Luke, the disciples had to wait until Jesus’ death, burial and resurrection before He allowed their minds to open enough to understand the fullness of Him. In the same way, no matter how much we squint at the situations in our lives, we will never see the golden etchings that pull sometimes up and sometimes down but always to the glory of God. Individual Scriptures, the whispers of revelation, but only seen through the optics of God. Don’t sweat the timing. He gives us the eyes to see when we, too, will remember the beauty of awareness and understand His miracle.

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