The first time I really remember studying our solar system was in third grade. I loved learning about the planets, the stars, the sun and the moon. At that age, I recall being especially entranced by the sun--the power of its rays, the hugeness of its size, and the nourishment it provides our planet. Though I learned 'extensive' information about the sun in third grade, one of the earliest lessons that I learned was about the sun and its power (one that I'm confident you learned as well). And that lesson was simply DON'T LOOK DIRECTLY AT THE SUN. For when you look directly at the sun, the light from it burns your retina. You are temporarily blinded. Your vision is impaired and you begin to see spots.
In Matthew 14:22-33, as the disciples row through a storm at sea, they see Jesus appear, walking on the water. As he passes by them, he calls Peter to come out of the boat and walk on the water with him. Successfully, Peter trudges across the waves that rage under his feet as he keeps his eyes fixed on the Lord. But the second he turns his eyes away from Jesus in recognition of the strength of the storm, he begins to sink. He is defeated by turning his gaze away from the Son.
As we grow up, I think there is a subtle lesson that we learn from the influence of our culture and the fallenness of our nature. And that is simply DON'T LOOK AT THE SON. And we accept this lesson into our lives; we turn our eyes away from the Lord, setting our vision on our own plans and desires. We turn them away as we are entranced by the glamour of sin. We turn them away, thinking that he is asking self-sufficiency from us. But mostly, we turn our eyes from the Son in fear because we know what happens when we keep our gaze on him. The Son burns. The Son blinds. The Son impairs our vision.
The Son burns away our sin and purifies our souls. Jesus, "who sustains all things by his mighty word....accomplished purification" (Hebrews 1:3) of our sins by his death and continues to do so for those who dare to gaze into his merciful eyes. The Son blinds us to the glamour of sin but opens our eyes to the splendor and joy of living in communion with the Trinity. As we gaze at the Son, we begin to "consider everything as a loss because of the supreme good of knowing" the love and fulfilled life that only he offers (Philippians 3:8). The Son impairs our own selfish, self-consumed vision and turns our eyes outward through "heartfelt compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience" (Colossians 3:12).
Fixing our eyes on Christ evokes a change--in perspective, in direction, in lifestyle, in heart. And this is scary. It's terrifying and a source of anxiety to fully commit to a life of discipleship. It requires a stripping of our pride and will to accept what the gaze of Christ will demand of us. But we do so in recognition of the spiritual, emotional and relational defeat that happens when we turn our eyes away from him. Anxiety reigns; selfishness consumes; emptiness pervades. In acknowledgement of this truth, may we "rid ourselves of every burden and sin that clings to us and persevere in running the race that lies before us while KEEPING OUR EYES FIXED ON JESUS, the leader and perfecter of faith" (Hebrews 12:1-2). Today, may we humbly recognize the ways we have turned our eyes from the Lord. And in prayer, may we stare deeply into the eyes of Jesus Christ--our leader, our savior, our conqueror--asking him to replace our vision, direction, and desire with his.
Jesus, we acknowledge how much our hearts, our minds, our souls have yearned to be fixed on you. We recognize the ways our lives are wrecked and broken because of our interior gaze. Thank you for the freedom we experience in gazing at you--our merciful, loving, victorious Lord.
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