A clear view

I don’t know why I keep buying sunglasses, because I just can’t stand to wear them. I usually get a new pair when we go on vacation, but within seconds of putting them on I have to take them off. It drives me crazy not being able to see the true colors, not knowing how vivid the water is, or the skies, or the trees. Sometimes the colors are prettier through the glasses, but still, I don’t like feeling like my view has been distorted or altered in any way. It seems fake, false and, well, just not right.

Our pastor Nathan taught last week on how he doesn’t like substitutes — give him sugar instead of Sweet ‘n’ Low, Coke instead of Pepsi, cream instead of skim milk – he wants the real thing. It’s a different application, but I think this is similar to my sunglasses issues. He doesn’t want anything to come between him and the real thing. I think that’s why I don’t like to see anything but the true colors. Whether it is good or bad, I want to experience the reality of it. I want to see the nuances of shading, the gradations of tone and the play of light and shadow. I want to know what it really looks like. Every single detail.

And I want the same thing with my God. I want to see Him for who He is, know Him as the perfect, holy, never-changing God. And learn each and every one of the countless other aspects of Him, too. I want to see Him clearly, and see Him for myself. “For there is...one mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus.*” I don’t want to look through rose-colored glasses and then have a skewed perception, and I don’t want to look through someone else’s glasses and see what they see. I want to see Him myself. And I think He honors that. When we look for Him, look really hard, He lets us find Him. And, while He’s in the process of revealing those beautiful facets, those incredible details, those amazing sights, I think maybe He even turns up the intensity of the colors to become more beautiful than ever. Just for us.

*1 Timothy 2:5

transformed

She was radiant. I always thought my friend was beautiful, not just on the inside but on the outside, too. But she didn’t think so. Today, you could tell she felt pretty. She felt good. At church she was the center of attention and everyone was lavishing genuine compliments on her. Although she’s never cared much about clothes, she tried something new. A friend helped her select several new outfits, and you could see a world of difference in the way she carried herself. She was transformed. It was all about feeling good in what she had on.

As Christians, we are robed in salvation. When we were baptized, we were dressed in heavenly robes. If we truly understood this, we wouldn’t mope around. We wouldn’t feel unattractive, uninteresting, or all alone. We would carry ourselves completely differently, heads held high, knowing that the robes we wear allow our inner beauty to shine forth. We may have been fairly pretty – or above-average handsome – before, but it’s not until we realize how much those garments do for us that we really shine.

An envelope full of leaves

One day, walking to the post office, I noticed the leaves were starting to turn colors. Fall is my favorite time of year, and I walked slowly, stopping to pick up the prettiest leaves, gently shuffling through the blanket of leaves, trying to uncover the most colorful and interesting ones. Bright green centers with orange and red edges, some all red – you know, the vivid-beyond-anything-you-can-imagine red/orange/pink color of maple leaves in all their fall glory. Each one is a work of art. At the time, Pastor Nathan was in Afghanistan, and I missed him so much. So, that day, I gathered a handful of the prettiest leaves, and when I got to the post office, I laid them between sheets of white paper, sealed them inside a cardboard envelope, and sent them off to Afghanistan. I figured by the time they got there, they’d be all brown and brittle, and it was likely Nathan would end up with an envelope full of crushed leaves. But I sent them anyway, because I love the colors so much it makes my heart hurt, and because when I studied overseas during college I missed seeing our version of autumn, and because it broke my heart to think of Nathan missing out on this beauty, this annual display of God’s splendor that takes our breath away every single time.

Of all the care packages and letters I sent, this is the one Nathan most often mentions. I don’t know why it affected him, but I know why I sent them. I missed him, and I wanted him to know I was thinking about him. And the colors were too beautiful not to share. I thought Nathan needed to see this quintessential part of life back home, and remember all the things he loved, and long to come home so strongly that nothing – no matter what, nothing – would keep him from returning.

I think this might explain why God gave us His Word. He loved us, and long before we had been born, He already longed for us to return to Him. He knew of the incredible beauty waiting for us and wanted to stir up a longing in our hearts that would sustain us. And, being the Creator of all, He knew intimately of the beauty of His home, and of His love, and of the beauty He placed within each of us. It was all too beautiful not to share. So He did.