I didn't realize the
tapping noise was meant to get my attention.
En route to hiking trails, I'd paused to
take a picture on one of the roads passing beside a section of condominiums in
our neighborhood. Today had swung in with every full ounce of Fall, and I
wanted to document each photographable
inch. After all, sieve-like minds
need countless ebeneezers. The more frequent and visible along the path, the
better. So if you've recently seen me swinging around my iphone camera like a
hobbyist photographer gone wild...you'll know why.
Still, the tapping bounced somewhere to
my left, so I turned on a surprised heel towards the condos.
A little face smiled
through a third story window; a little hand waved widely.This precious one
had been beating the pane so that she could simply wave at me, make some kind
of eye contact.
She saw me. And she
wanted me to know that.
Isn't that the thing
my soul- her soul, yours, anyone's- craves most deeply? That when we look through
the panes separating us we see into the pain of another and see Imago Dei? That
someone would just lay down their life for even a moment and see us?
How about Someone
laying aside the Eternal throne to look an adulteress in the eyes?
And what if I mean me when I say adulteress?
We follow Christ's
eyes when we look at someone closely.
I've found it all
the more true, because, time and time again, He's the only one looking back at
me when the stones piled around aren't piled ebeneezers, but encircling
reminders dropped from self-inflicted shame.
When I'm the woman
caught red-handed in my fear
or
my jealousy,
or
my wandering unbelief,
He stays in the
midst of the dissipated circle and kicks my rocks to the side:
"When
Jesus had raised Himself up and saw
no one but the woman, He said to her, 'Woman, where are those accusers
of yours? Has no one condemned you?' (Jn. 8:10)"
Christ raised
Himself up from the dust another time, too. When He did, He met a woman crying,
yet again.
He recognized her
asphyxiating grief and looked at her:
"Jesus
said to her, 'Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you seeking?'
She,
supposing Him to be the gardener, said to Him, 'Sir, if You have carried Him away, tell me where You have laid Him, and I will take Him away.'
Jesus
said to her, 'Mary!'
She turned and said to Him,
'Rabboni!' (Jn. 20: 15-16)"
Because Mary turned
around, her weeping eyes met the Giver of Life, and she could actually see.
She saw the One Who
condemned shame brought on by sin, and then trampled Death by way of death.
She saw closely
because she'd been seen through to her worst doubt- that the Beloved Teacher
she'd gratefully followed couldn't conquer what He promised He would as the Son
of God.
Jesus
proved her doubts and her grieving wrong
by the power of a tender tapping on the
pane of her heart.
The glory of seeing
lies in the light of day where our eyes receive color by way of absorbing every
hue but for the one we're actually seeing.
Somehow, Jesus sees
every color of ours all at once, still finding the true hues that we harbor
beneath weak surfaces.
You are seen.
No, even more than
that-
In Christ, the
Father sees you hidden in His Son's Life, wrapped in daylight, and standing
outside of the tomb.
O, my soul, turn
around. Even in the good things, the worthy undertakings, don't forget the
greatest ebeneezer is the stone rolled away.
Remember that the
tapping is actually a call to life from the True Gardener, the Only Conqueror,
The One Who gives
you sight.
