Vous, au contraire, vous êtes heureux, vos yeux voient et vos oreilles entendent!
But you, on the other hand, are blessed. Your eyes see and your ears hear! ~ Jesus (Matthew 13:16)
In a month, I travel to France! Meanwhile, I’ve opened my own practice. I practice packing, I practice sketching, I practice with paints, I practice my French. Je pratique.
Practice French
We sit at a table in the shade, the bouteille d’eau I sip from sweats moisture as the day warms. Un cahier rests by my elbow, its lined pages covered in scribbled notes written with le stylo I grip in my hand.
Right now my brain is cooking. The discussion is en français and my tutor has a lot to say. His paint stained hands gesture with the eloquence of a Parisienne, his grammar is foreign, yet familiar to my heart. Earnest and intelligent, this twenty-something will change the world.
We speak of a time in the past, when culture was not macdonaldized and our souls weren’t numbed by TV. He waves a finger to remind himself–we can’t just go backwards in time. Desperate times are listed on every decade’s page. I chime in, “Les Miserables,” and he nods, “Exactement.”
He tells me his generation cannot be the hope, l’espoir d’humanitie, alone, but his children will complete the task. I recognize his vision, it mirrors my own longing for the world to be made new.
Quand j’etais une jeune fille, when I was young, my generation dreamed of change. Long-haired and starry-eyed we sang of peace and justice and a world filled with love. We would be different, we would not conform. Je suis triste, I tell my tutor. I am sad. My generation is just as greedy and indifferent as those who lived before.
I quote a french expression, plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose. The more things change, the more they stay the same. Though a native of France, he has never heard the saying. Bon. Good. It’s a proverb for cynics, for those who’ve given up.
Our time has ended and I look across at this young man, his eyes filled with hope and the pain of the world. With hesitant French I compliment him. Vos yeux viorent…your eyes see.
Practice Seeing Every Day
Later I turn to Romans 8, a chapter filled with groaning. Creation groans to be set free from decay, God’s people groan for redemption, and the Spirit groans along. Unhampered by any pain of his own, the Spirit enters ours. He prays for us, for the world, with sighs too deep for words.
Do I pray along with the Spirit or close my eyes and reach for the remote control? My hope is no longer found in human solutions, but I’m a human God can use. An instrument of change in the Spirit’s hand, I must practice every day.
Jesus, help me share your light and hope with the open-eyed I encounter today. Amen
Where are you called to be the eyes that see?
6 replies on “Practice Seeing Every Day”
Love reading the French again. I was generally fluent when I left High School. Now? Ne fluent pas! I’m being invited to see that I don’t see. Or perhaps, won’t see. At times, can’t see. If I could sum up my formation over the past few years, seeing/noticing/observing/noticing would be at its core. The rest is de la viande.
The rest is meat? My painting class today was all about seeing. I have to see before I do. The Spirit leads us both.
Beautiful! It was so nice to hear you so excited when I talked to you the other day.
So much to learn, Marilyn!
I am so excited that you are going to France! How exciting.
Pray for me as I accompany a church friend to her various medical appointments for the treatment of newly diagnosed multiple myeloma – in my role as faith community nurse at Hillside Covenant I so easily hide my sad feelings for my friend behind my nurse facade – the world of cold hard medical diagnoses and treatment – behind the notes I am taking for her. I want to show her empathy not just my head knowledge. She is overwhelmed by the new medical condition. I want to be her companion. Lord, help me.
Sylvie, yours is a holy calling! I will pray as you offer your clear head and empathy to an overwhelmed friend. May Jesus walk between you.