I was quickly reminded of that during a recent sermon, when the pastor talked about how Jesus views His children — ALL His children — through a lens of love and mercy, even though we tend to view others through a lens of judgment. The glasses we wear do not let us see clearly.
You could say I know all about imperfect vision. For years, I wore glasses, and without them, I couldn’t see with any clarity any object more than a few inches from my face. About six years ago, I had LASIK surgery to correct my vision, and my eyesight was restored. But I also know all about the imperfect vision that comes from an imperfect and sinful heart. And by God’s grace, I also know about the corrected vision that comes through what Christ has done for us on the cross!
The author of Hebrews reminds and encourages us to “fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God” (Hebrews 2:2, NIV). Our eyes — our vision — cannot see clearly the hurts and needs of this world; however, when we fix our eyes on the author and perfecter of our faith, He restores and perfects our vision, allowing us to see youth (and all God’s people) through the eyes of their Creator. These “Son” glasses enable us to reach out to a hurting, broken world with the love of God. Thankfully, God is in control, correcting our vision each day as we seek His forgiveness and are obedient to what He is doing in our lives — when we fix our eyes on Him.
I’m now about two months into my new Call as a high school math and science teacher at Mount Rainier Lutheran High School in Tacoma, Washington. Our Lutheran schools across the country continue to become growing mission fields, and each day I step into my classroom, God blesses me with the opportunity to put “Son” glasses on! Each day, He gives me broken people who challenge me and my patience. And yet, each day, He gives me opportunities to show love, compassion, mercy, and grace.
Tomorrow, it looks like the forecast is calling for rain, and the day after that, and the day after that. While I may not need to wear a single pair of sunglasses these next eight months during our rainy season, the next eight months in the classroom will require “Son” glasses tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that.