"The little pickle Melha went right up to her nearly blind father and pointed to one of the pictures on the wall - one of the Lord calling a little child to Him - and said, 'Look at Jesus.'
'I have no eyes, O my daughter - I cannot see,' was the answer.
The baby thing lifted head and eyes to the picture and said, 'O Jesus, look at father!'"
-Lilias Trotter, 19th century missionary to Algeria
My eyes too are constantly blurred of sight - I cannot see.
I cannot see the beauty of my Lord. I cannot acknowledge His glorious presence in the mundane of this life. Temporal blinds view of eternal, and we see as through convex lens, a distortion.
Made in His image, those I love best.
But I see flaws not constant transformation.
Drowning souls, mangled bodies, stench and filth instead of fields ripe for harvest.
He touches everything, but if my eyes are blind to Him how can I see that which He illumines? Without the light of the sun - the Son - all is darkness. My wounded eyes cannot see. O Jesus, look upon me!
When our eyes fail, His are ever faithful. "My eyes will watch over them for their good," He says (Jeremiah 24:6).
My hope is in you alone, O Lord. Keep me always as the apple of your eye; hide me beneath the shadow of your wing (Psalm 17:8).
We cannot look upon You, so Jesus, look upon us!