Father God, I know that you are wonderful, beautiful. You are full of wonder and the fullness of beauty. I know that the skies declare your glory. I know that you are always good. But lately, Lord, I’ve struggled to see it, and when I can’t see I start to forget. I try to remember the times when I have known you were speaking to me, the times I was just in awe of your beauty, and I am comforted, sort of. But what I really want, Lord, is to gaze on your beauty today – and every day.
Like Bartimaus, Lord, my eyes are sick. It’s not that you are any less glorious – you have not lost your lustre like cheap jewelry – I just cannot see. I’ve developed cataracts – I’ve focussed too much on my little life, my little problems and worries. It’s as though I’ve held a book in front of my face, blocking out all the wide world beyond, blocking you from my line of sight.
Forgive me for not trusting you with my small concerns, for making mountains out of molehills, for again and again seeking out and settling for a second-rate substitution when I know that only the love you offer truly satisfies.
I want to see the way a baby sees the rain for the first time – to laugh giddy at the miracle of a sunrise, a smile, and daily bread.
Heal my blindness, Lord – and make the daily and everlasting song of my heart that “apart from you I have no good thing“. When distractions and the cares of life vie for my attention; please, PLEASE, Lord, be the foreground…the largest thing in my sight – be the glasses that put all other things in perspective.
And when I still choose to turn away? Thank you that your beauty and goodness CHASE AFTER ME! Your grace overtakes me. How can you love me like you do? I rejected you, and you died for me, and then drew me back to you, as you are drawing me even now – removing the scales from my eyes, and showing me once again your great love, your goodness, your glory.