Sight.

I find I often search for Him in big things. I wait for powerful experiences that move me. I pray for the eyes to see but then I have selective vision that only looks for what it expects to see. Yet I know He’s not only in the extravagance. He’s not only in the grandiose. He’s in the mundane. In the day to day. The simple and ordinary. He’s ever present there, yet I miss it because I’m looking elsewhere.

So now I surrender my eyes to see, to see where He is and will be. Not only to where I perceive He should be.

In the bright yellow leaves littering the ground, the trees a flame bursting with color all around. In the bottom of a coffee cup, in the dreaded room and kitchen clean up. He’s in the words I type, in the brutally honest prayers I write. He’s in the preparing of food, in the decorating of a room. He’s in the sleep I fall into at night and the beautiful morning filled with bright sunlight. He’s in the struggle; He’s in the pain. He’s in the loss and He’s in the gain. He sees and cares more than I know and He’s revealing himself even now. He’s not playing a game of hide and seek, that although I search I can never see. He’s not a grand mystery that keeps his distance, but One who is ever present in everything. Of course there are things I don’t understand about him, times I question his unfair plans. Many times I feel like I’ve gone blind, that I can’t see or feel no matter how hard I try to find. But it seems every so often he reminds me that he’s not in the feelings I long to have, but He’s present right in front of me.

Again, like the words of a friend, I’m beginning to see him in the end of a cigarette. Present in this coffee shop in which I sit, in the conversation, the brokenness, and the search for meaning in life’s long transit from beginning to end.

He’s in the struggle and triumph of community, He’s in the mundane, the things right in front of me that I can hardly see.