Summary: #8 in series. We see God and the world the way it really is when we put on our Holiness Glasses.
Sermon #8 of Sermon the Mount Series
preached April 21, 2002
Parkview Church of the Nazarene
J. Richard Lord, Jr.
Since I was about twelve years old, I have had to wear corrective lenses of some kind. If, for some reason, I could not wear glasses or contacts, I could classed as legally blind. Between myopia and astigmatism, I can’t even see the big “E” on the eye chart without vision correction. Amazingly, with good vision correction, I have perfectly good 20-20 vision.
A couple of times since I have started wearing glasses, I have found myself in the situation of having to have eyeglass repair done without the benefit of having a spare pair of glasses. It is incredible how much a sighted person depends upon their sight for the simplest of things. All of your reactions, your movements and your reflexes depend on being able to see. You are accustomed to looking at where you are going, looking for what you are reaching for, looking at the job you are performing at the time, even watching where you are walking. All of this depends on your sight.
When you are temporarily blinded, you feel helpless. Even in my condition, when all I can see is just vague shapes and blurs of colors, you very quickly develop a sense of being lost. You can’t watch television, you can’t read and it’s very disconcerting to carry on a conversation with someone or a group of people that are only just blobs that move around. You can’t see facial expressions, you can’t even tell sometimes if they are talking to you or someone else.
I discovered something else. It is very hard for me to even play the piano without looking at it. I am so accustomed to watching where my hands go that if I try to play the piano without looking at it from time to time, I get lost. I have to give blind people a lot of credit. They have made an incredible adjustment to having lost their sight.
When you are in that condition for any length of time, you do find yourself beginning to adapt. Instead of turning your head to look for something, you reach out with your hand and feel for it. You find yourself walking down a hall way with your hand on the wall, feeling for doorways. You find yourself, when filling a glass, just sticking your finger in the top so you can tell when the glass is full. When you are in conversation with someone, you don’t feel a need to turn and face them. You are more likely to turn your ear to them rather than your face.
You find yourself developing a whole new set of reactions and reflexes. You move slower. You don’t take as large a step as you once did. You feel your way through doorways. Staircases are a challenge. You move differently, think differently and even act differently.
It is a completely different world you find yourself in. You feel trapped, left out and sometimes, ignored. You begin to sense that horror you would feel if, for some reason, you were to lose your sight permanently.
But let’s reverse that for a moment. Let’s pretend that from birth, you have been blind. You do not know what it is to see a sunset, to look at the majesty of mountains, or the beauty of the ocean.