We Don’t See Well

“We don’t see well,” said Mr. Brubaker at the beginning of science class. “I don’t see well.”  He put on his glasses for emphasis and grinned at us.

Taking Principles of Science class this semester is simultaneous delight and torture.  Delight because I love science, and I love to learn new things about this amazing world.  Torture because so much of the material is way over my head, and doing the homework is just plain work.  And then there are the chemistry demonstrations like producing hydrogen and igniting it.  (The male infatuation with things that explode is one of those mysteries of life that I can never understand.  Let’s just say that there’s more than one reason why I choose to sit in the back of the classroom).

Studying science is largely a lesson in learning how to see.  So many things evade our notice simply because we don’t look.  It’s amazing what all we can miss.  And maybe that is one of my biggest reasons for spending two years of my life studying here at Faith Builders—because I want to learn to see.

Earth’s crammed with heaven,

And every common bush afire with God;

But only he who sees takes off his shoes—

The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries. . . .

                                                             —Elizabeth Barrett Browning

I want to see.  That is why you may find me kneeling beside a bed of crocuses, reverently touching the petals (confession here:  I almost worship flowers.  Especially the first flowers of spring).  It’s why I walked outside many times this winter and stopped to gaze at the intricate designs of the snowflakes on my coat sleeve.  It’s also why I’m spending this entire semester reading almost nothing but the book of Ephesians for my personal devotions.  Don’t get me wrong—reading the Bible in big chunks is a good thing too.  But sometimes we need to read slowly and repeatedly.

How’s your eyesight?

“We may ignore, but we can nowhere evade, the Presence of God.  The world is crowded with Him.  He walks everywhere incognito.  And the incognito is not always hard to penetrate.  The real labor is to attend.  In fact, to come awake.  Still more, to remain awake.”  C. S. Lewis