clearer perspectives

Today I’ve felt the urge to write. Really write. The blog is a good place to start, I suppose.

My thoughts of the past several days do not wish to translate themselves to words, but I can say that they have been — mostly — lucid. I’m sitting here trying to think of how to describe the moments of illumination I’ve experienced. I have not received great new revelations or prophecies, nor have I hit upon the wisdom of the ages. However, I’ve had a few of those moments where God zooms my view out, and I can see everything with clearer eyes. My vision, for the briefest of moments, is crystal clear and I can “determine what really matters,” as the Scripture says. Such moments are beautiful, and I wish they were tangible — readily held onto like tokens of remembrance as I glide seamlessly into new clouds of confusion and the fog of human thought.

I feel like I have written of this before, perhaps here, but doesn’t it seem that we humans live most of our lives in a fog? We are inwardly focused, selfish, and entrenched in concerns about either the past or the future. We fail to see the present and its opportunities. We also fail to see the present as it fits into the puzzle pieces of the past and future: instead, our present personal problems appear grossly over-sized, swollen by our selfish feelings so that we cannot see past the blobs of woe. We cannot see the landscape they are set in; we cannot see the other characters involved.

That is why the lucid moments I described — the brief times when I see circumstances, others, and the grand scheme of life more clearly — are so precious. They also provide a clearer view of myself, because instead of bloating my ego, they put my concerns and desires in perspective.

Once, in a cathedral in France, I had one of these moments of epiphany. I stared at a glinting, colorful stained glass window in the ancient church and felt that I was as small as a mere speck of dust. Insignificant. I’ll never forget the freedom of that realization.

I think the moments of clarity come when, somehow, I forget for a moment to care about myself. That opens the door to new vantage points. Jesus said that I must lose my life to find it. I’ve understood that in a martyr-like or even a literal sense, but perhaps it is what I am talking about now. Perhaps “losing myself” is not only about consciously sacrificing, with a sigh and a shake of the head; perhaps it is also these happy moments when I forget that I have needs and wants. When I love the Lord and feel that He loves me, and everything is very simple. I don’t need anything; therefore, I become insignificant. Content and forgetful, and thus, able to see things I couldn’t see before.


One Response

  1. Very insightful and true. Most of the times I experience this is when I give thanks in all things, changing my focus from self to Christ and seeing my trials as blessing through the “sacrifice of thanksgiving.”

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