I had eye surgery last week.

I suppose it’s the ultimate indicator of age creeping up on me.  Though sometimes it seems as if old age is bashing the door down, rather than creeping.

The surgeon removed the lens of my right eye, it having been covered with a cataract that was affecting my eyesight. In its place, a sparkling new lens was inserted, one that is clear and shaped correctly.

I now have measurably better vision in that eye, as well as being able to see colors and light more realistically.

I’m not sure I like it all that much.

I close the right eye, seeing only through my left, and I become almost nostalgic.  The difference is striking—nearly dramatic.  Immediately, I feel warmth and comfort.

Let me see if I can explain what I mean.

Over time, a cataract on the lens of the eye changes the hue of what one sees.  It can eventually become so dark that a person can’t see much at all.  That was not the case with my eyes yet.

The change in my eyesight essentially just added a browny-yellow hue to everything I saw.  Not enough to obscure anything, but enough to make the view through my eyes more warm and comforting.

Here’s another way to think about it:  I take a lot of photos of nature (and bridges).  It seems to me that the camera actually changes the images I capture a bit from what my eye sees.  Over the last few years, as I process them, I have grown to rely on an app that has the ability to filter the color and light of the photos.  I use filters to make the final photo more realistic.

To me.  It’s more realistic to my eyes.

One of the filters is called “warmth”.  Raising the value of this filter turns the scene slightly more yellow.  Maybe even a little browny-yellow.

I like that.

Do you see my problem?

Now, I close my left eye (with its cataract) and open the newly repaired right one.  The world changes from warm and comfortable to brilliant and stark.

In another week, I will go back to the surgery center and the surgeon will replace the lens of my left eye, too.  I’m not sure that makes me all that happy.

I want to continue to look at the world through my warm and comfortable filters.  Brilliant starkness doesn’t appeal to me that much.

That said, I understand that I need to see clearly.  And, as I write the words, I remember that our physical eyes are not the only ones in which we need 20/20 sight. We need to see clearly, not just in the physical world around us, but in the spiritual as well.

Am I the only one?  Does no one else go through life believing they’re seeing the world as it is, only to be rudely awakened by a different perspective offered by way of a crisis, a conversation, or an overheard comment?

Again and again, we’re sad as we learn of previously hidden illnesses.  A beautiful day can turn black in seconds as we hear of tragedy and loss.  Folks we thought were doing fine may actually be in the throes of financial disaster.

It would be easy to think all the eye-opening revelations are of sadness and distress.  That’s not always the case.  Frequently we learn of good news while we’re expecting the worst.

There’s a story in the Old Testament about that.  The prophet Elisha and his servant opened their eyes one morning to find themselves surrounded by enemy forces, intent on harming them.  The servant, expecting his own annihilation at any moment, was terrified.

Elisha, seeing the world as it really was, prayed for his servant’s eyes to be opened—really opened.

Then Elisha prayed, “O Lord, open his eyes and let him see!” The Lord opened the young man’s eyes, and when he looked up, he saw that the hillside around Elisha was filled with horses and chariots of fire.
(2 Kings 6:17, NLT)

Looking up, the servant saw the armies of heaven, prepared to fight for God’s people.  Before, he had seen what he knew to be truth, an army bent on his destruction.  Eyes fully opened, he now saw the protection of God’s hand poised to save.

I’m ready for that; ready to see the world around me as God sees it.

How about it?  Are we ready to love it as He does, ready to weep when He does, ready to stand firm where He says to stand?

To do all of those, we have to see with His eyes.

For my part, if it takes some mud and spit, as it did for the blind man in Jesus’ day, I’ll take that.  Or even letting the surgeon replace the lenses in my eyes.

It’s time to fix our eyes.

I’m still going to use the warmth filter on my photos, though.

Even if they do look a little browny-yellow to everyone else.

 

I can see, and that is why I can be happy, in what you call the dark, but which to me is golden. I can see a God-made world, not a manmade world.
(Helen Keller)

                              

Fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. (Hebrews 12:2, NASB1995)

 

© Paul Phillips. He’s Taken Leave. 2022. All Rights Reserved.