This entry reminds me of how easy it is to slip into bad habits. The author mentions how the cloudiness of cataracts builds gradually so that people don’t notice those “baby steps” along the way, and they become used to the dullness of vision. Used to the dullness–that sounds awful!
Yet, in our lives, how easy is it to allow bad habits to creep up on us?
Procrastination a time or two becomes the baby steps to frequently missed deadlines until we are often paying bills late and scrambling to handle penalties.
A few small treats become the baby steps to a habit of overindulgence, resulting in credit card bills we can’t cover or jeans we can’t zip.
Our FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out) drives us to sign up for “just one more” activity, leading to double-booked calendars and bodies and minds too exhausted to enjoy whatever is scheduled.
Those situations sound very stressful. Do we get used to the accumulated stress like the cataract patient gets used to the dullness?
How do we regroup so that our lives are “full of light,” (Matthew 6:22) instead of full of stress?
I like the lyrics of the hymn to which Wiltschek refers, “Open My Eyes, that I May See.” We need God to “illumine,” or brighten, us so that we can be focused on His truth, will, and love. His light can affect every area of our lives.
There’s another element to the lyrics that really stands out to me:
Silently now I wait for thee
Ready, my God, thy will to see
I need to be purposeful about my readiness to accept God’s gift. I need to be still and have some respite from all of the distractions of life in order to be able to see His light.
Open my heart, illumine me, Spirit divine!
I'm wondering if faith is antithetical to researching and knowing what's coming. I'm a dedicated Internet researcher. I can drive Linda crazy with the amount of things I want to look up and understand before we make a major purchase. While I can be spontaneous and make quick decisions sometimes, that's not my default.
When I had my cataract surgery, I researched the procedure and recovery extensively online and also learned a lot from the surgeon. By the time I went in for it I had a good understanding of what was happening and why and that made me much more at ease, maybe even feeling more in control, although I clearly was the patient and not the doctor.
Like you, Gina, I want to know what's going on and why. I suspect there are times when that's not possible, however, and we have to step out in faith. I don't think of either of us as having a faith that is too dulled, but I guess it's something to be aware of and not let a lack of full information keep us from moving forward in faith when necessary.
The author remarks that when our faith lenses get cloudy that we need a bit of spiritual surgery to bring our vision back to better health. That is an interesting image. But what would it entail? Just like when facing an actual surgery, I would appreciate a description of what would be involved for the doctor and for myself, both during and after the surgery. What would God be doing? What exactly do I need to do? It's one thing to say that is what we need and another thing to actually understand what's involved. I could use some clarity and better directions! Or maybe my faith is too dulled already to really see and understand. I hope not.