What Do You See?
I recently had a couple over to my house with their new 8-week old child to shoot some portraits. I was looking for a chance to try out the new studio gear, and hoped that it would provide them with some pictures that we both could be proud of. During the course of the shoot, the mother — with the child on her lap — latched on to this question: “What do you see?”. The child’s wide, shiny eyes darted around our living room, taking it all in. It was a new place, with big, bright lights and a stranger with a big camera. All new and unfamiliar.
“What do you see? What do you see?” It was a soothing, lyrical whisper, like tiny waves on a sandy beach. It served to both keep the child at ease, and to reflect her sense of wonder.
“What do you see? What do you see?” It was almost like a mantra to keep the mother calm too, and to keep her engaged with the shoot, and the presence of her child.
“What do you see? What do you see?” Okay, really that’s enough.
“What do you see? What do you see?” Right. Stop it. That suddenly has to be the most annoying, irritating…distracting question ever! I’m just trying to get some happy, sappy pictures of this family, and–
“What do you see? What do you see?” Seriously, SHUT UP!
“What do you see? What do you see?” Because it’s not her asking her child anymore. It’s coming from her lips, wrapped in her eager, maternal undertone, but it’s God asking me.
“What do you see? What do you see?” No. NO! I don’t want to think about that. I don’t want to answer that question! I don’t even know how to answer that question. I can’t…I just want–
“What do you see? What do you see?” Oh, GOD! — I see the gates of Hell! I see the jaws of death at the neck of a nation. I see things happening in Kenya that I can’t articulate. Things that I’m sure Kenyans won’t ever be able to articulate. I see pain and chaos that are literally ripping human beings apart. And from here it’s not just a country, it’s a continent!
“What do you see? What do you see?” I see a 17yr girl in Swaziland facing either a 2yr jail term, or the fine of 2yrs of salary for having an abortion, where the married man who impregnated her faces no apparent consequences. I see death, confusion and injustice.
“What do you see? What do you see?” I see a 10yr old girl in Bolivia with burns to 95% of her body, from a gas explosion in — of all places — the family bathroom! Even in the best hospital care she’d be unlikely to survive, and her parents in fear and desperation took her home! I see oppression and despair.
“What do you see? What do you see?” I see shattered, fractured pieces of your image…EVERYWHERE! I see red, and black. I see your name and your creation broken, polluted and ruined in countless, nameless ways. I see and I see until I can’t look anymore.
“Yes…but what else do you see…?”
In a quote that’s gone instantly viral, Desmond Tutu’s response to the Kenya crisis is “I’m always a prisoner of hope.” People have latched on to that as a powerful phrase. But I wonder if they recognise it for what it is. ‘Cause these shackles are hard and rough and tight. The chains are short and taut and unyielding. I’d prefer to give up. To break down. To collapse and end. But I am indeed a prisoner. I’m held upright with a lance through my body, my very soul, and a clamp on the base of my spine. There’s no escape — no respite.
“I’ve got you. You are mine! My prisoner to hope. By your own choice, and your commitment, my slave. So you can’t despair. Oh I know how you want to! How much easier that would be for you. To call down a flood and end everything. To damn everything! But that is not going to happen — I keep my promises. So now, what do you see? What do you see?”
Oh God, God…I see you. I choose…to see you. Staunching gushing wounds. Consoling the inconsolable. Weeping with us, and attending to our desperate, wordless prayers. Inspiring your people to face overwhelming futility, and act with inexplicable courage. That’s what I see. When you help me look…that’s what I see.
“Yes, that’s what I see too. Now, for this moment, you see how I see.”
February 15th, 2008 at 3:21 pm
I am pleased for the insight God has given you. Yes, if we are anything as the people of God we are people of hope. But this hope is based firmly and irrevocably in reality. Therefore we are people of hope with our eyes wide open, open to both the grace of God that is at work in those who choose to repent and place their faith in Him and to the sad and sure judgment that awaits those who stubbornly reject God’s love and grace and finally eyes open to the evil and injustice that is rampant and prevalent in our world. Many would say that is pessimistic. I would say it is realistic, biblically realistic. I will never stop proclaiming the hope available in Christ. And I will not abandon the hope I personally have in Christ that rests on the fulfillment of His sure promises regardless of the level of hopelessness that exists in our world outside of Christ. Press on with joy and peace because of the hope we possess in Christ. But let’s not pretend that all is well or that things are getting better. That is not real. That is not God’s promise for us at this time. His promise for us for now is His presence in the midst of chaos. Oh what a wonderful place to be!
February 16th, 2008 at 1:35 am
Thanks Daryl — I think I’m finally living into the byline I’ve applied to this site: “paradoxes in tension”. As you’ve illustrated here, this is what it means to be a Christ-follower. We live right in the middle of this strange interplay of humanity and the divine — I’m coining the term “sweaty tango”.
The thing I’m struggling with right now is what hope means if we aren’t supposed to anticipate something better. I mean, I’m content to be salt, to be a permeating presence in our world. But I really think that Christians are so weighed down by the pressures and multiple failings of the world on human terms, that they’ve lost both compass and map for the quest they’re on.
I’m so grateful to God for the vision revealed in the above post. It broke my heart, something that I’ve been expecting — and frankly afraid of — for a long time. One of my greatest hopes is that this realisation, this awareness of a deep, urgent soul-vacuum is spreading. I think it is! I’ve recently seen several smoldering lives bursting into white-hot flame! I anticipate more!
The problem is that this can’t be taught in church, or in school. For me the ground was broken through testimony, through story. But ultimately it’s an individual’s hunger and availability, and God’s miraculous interaction that connects an individual people to her hope. And sometimes God’s got to break through many layers of self-protection, and false preconceptions before he reaches into a person and finds a place where he can still feel. (Ask me how I know…)
Without a vital, God-focused hope we offer nothing to the world. Partnered with it, I hesitate to draw any limitations or boundaries around what we are allowed to anticipate!
February 16th, 2008 at 8:16 am
You’re an artist! This was such a great post and thank you for including the story of this young girl in Swaziland. I’m living and working amongst people, many of whom had lost hope. I was visiting an old woman of 74 today who’s just waiting to die. Keep an eye on my blog: http://missionissues.wordpress.com/ – I think I’ll be saying something there about the same topic after reading what you had written.
February 17th, 2008 at 4:46 pm
Thanks so much, Arnau — yours is one of the blogs I visit as soon as I see a new post. In my day-job as a missions communicator I am beginning to promote it around our team as a best-effort. I appreciate the special mix of inspirations that inform your updates there.
I also appreciate your visit and your comment here, and I hope to see you back some time!
February 19th, 2008 at 10:12 pm
When the pain becomes too great, I look up and see the Lord returning to create a new heaven and new earth. Then I have strength to transform my little corner, my sphere of influence, into the best place it can be — under the circumstances. I have taught my children, “When you see the world falling apart around you, look up. Then you will see the salvation the Lord has provided for you.” Look up.
February 21st, 2008 at 11:50 am
Brad,
You describe the tension and the pain of it so well. I often wonder when feeling overwhelmed by the brokenness of our world, let alone the stark reminders of my own – what did I expect? I had of course forgotten it again. I want comfort and security. I want the world to be a peace and am lulled into believing that it is. We live with such blessing here. And yet is it really blessing? I read recently that not all ‘consolations’ (good and right feelings/experiences) are of God. There are times when Satan fools us with the same sorts of things. But they are flawed. There is no peace, what we see in politics is often just an illusion. There is no economic equity, what we often see is just tax receipt inspired pity. There is no common human decency. So often it is just expediency.
And then, as you say, there is hope of which i am a prisoner also.
Hope is the corrective. Not of the worlds problems, but of our view of it. One day we won’t need hope. All will be as it ought. And in the meantime it is our gift to keep us in the tension. Christ is bigger than the greed, corruption and cruelty. He’s already won. Our task: remember and then act in ways that proclaim hope.
February 21st, 2008 at 9:48 pm
“One day we won’t need hope.” I think that’s the best description of Heaven I’ve ever heard. Perhaps that’s just because it’s extremely topical to me right now, but I’m keeping that one with me.
That would make a great T-shirt!