The Eyes Have It

In my book Living the Dream, after Joseph has been raised into a position over her husband, Potiphar's wife comes face to face with him. It is a telling moment. Will Joseph forgive her those vile indiscretions that cost him so dearly? Or will he use his newfound power for exquisite revenge?

She looks into his eyes ... and sees a love she struggles to comprehend, a love that says, "I see you. I see your past. I see who you really are inside, every evil despicable thing you have done. Yet I choose to love you, and I forgive you."

This passage might seem Pollyannaish or unbelievable, yet it is taken from a real-life event that occurred when I was a teenager in Mexico City. Auntie Trinie and I were attending one of Bob Blodgett's continuing education seminars for ministers--she to interpret, I to soak in as much of the ministry as I could. Those were glorious days! To have the luxury of sitting under anointed ministry day after day! And, to top everything off, every now and then, at the end of their teaching, a minister would begin to move in the gifts of the Spirit. This was one of those days. I closed my eyes and lowered my head in prayerful reverence. And then I felt him. I knew that Brother Hershburger had come to stand in front of me. I dared to open my eyes a little to peek, and sure enough, there he was. Standing in the pew in front of me, facing me. I raised my eyes to his--and had the experience of a lifetime. The people, the pews, the church--all disappeared as I gazed into those captivating, so-expressive eyes. The only way to describe them is to say that they were like the very eyes of Jesus looking at me. I knew to the very core of my being that he saw every flaw in me, every failing ... and, despite it all, He loved me. Then Bro. Hershburger laid his hand on my head and gave a prophesy over me that quickened my heart as it lay bare those secret angsts that only God knew--and not many years later those words did in truth come to pass.

Every now and then the memory of those eyes pulls at me and I allow myself the luxury of dwelling on them and I revel anew at the love I saw there. And then, there are those moments, like now, when I need to remember.

There is no greater pain that to come face to face with the fact that one has hurt a loved one--even if not intentionally. In my case the offense came about by my being too, too passive (that awful indecisiveness that has been the bain of my life; by the time I realize what I should have done--it is too late). The pain is so great that I struggle to put one foot in front of the other. I struggle with such shame that I feel my forehead emblazoned with the letters of my sin much like Hester in The Scarlet Letter. How, oh how, can I go on?

But somehow I do and slowly I begin to live the cliché, that time heals all wounds. But the pain rears its ugly head time and again. I come to grips with the awful truth that there is no way to remedy the past. Saying "I'm sorry" is not enough. I need to trust the Lord to bring my loved one to a place of healing; He and He alone is the One who can restore the years that the locusts, those filthy, vile creatures, have eaten (Joel 2:25). And then I remember those eyes. Way back then in my unblemished youth God already knew that I would stumble and hurt someone--and in His mercy He deigned to give me a tangible expression of His love, a memory that shows me that, just as His Word says, He loves me, warts and all. Then I gorge myself on the Psalms that speak over and over of praising Him, no matter what the circumstances, for He is God and always, always worthy of our praise. At all times, no matter what.

I obey those Psalms, putting on the mantle of praise no matter what I feel, no matter the shame, the self-deprecation, and, as I do, the heavy chains in my heart begin to break and fall away (Isaiah 61:3). I will praise Him because although I am unfaithful, He is faithful. Although I am imperfect, He is perfect. Praise is not about me. It is about Him. Yet, in some inexplicable wonderful way, when we turn from ourselves and focus on Him, things fall into place, the hurt is less, and we can begin to live again.

As we step into a new year, I invite you to join me in praising the One Who is worthy of praise. Look to Him and see all the pain in your life become as nothing. .Praise Him because He lives, He really does love you, and, although we are not in ourselves worthy, He has called you--and me-- by our names. Warts and all, we are His chosen ones! We are the Gideons of this age!

In Judges 6:11-12 we find Gideon threshing wheat in a wine press as he hides from the Israelites' enemies. He is not acting like a brave person but rather like one who is fearful. Later on in that same chapter he expresses other negative things about himself, revealing the low opinion with which he identifies. Yet the angel of the Lord greets him with, "The Lord is with thee thou mighty man of valour." Although Gideon belonged to the people of God, he was not perfect--yet God did not focus on his faults, choosing rather to see him through HIS eyes, to see him and treat him as all that he could be.

And that, dear friends, is how He sees us! It is a truth to hug to ourselves when we fail. He is faithful and just to forgive us if we ask (I John 1:9), and, despite the glaring pain of memories that might plague us, He sees us washed in the blood of Jesus, cleansed, perfect. Redeemed. And in the end, HIs view is all that matters. Hallelujah!