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Clear Lens

My vision went from clear to foggy in a matter of milliseconds. I live in a cold area of the United States, and recently I ventured a walk on a morning when the temperature was a whopping 15 degrees. My breath billowed in wispy clouds around my head as I puffed my way over the snow-dusted trail near our home. I enjoy crisp days but the thermometer showed more than mere “crispness” as I returned from my morning jaunt and deftly placed my walking stick back in the corner on the porch. I felt cold, and even though I had put a few layers of clothing on I was glad to be home again.

I turned the knob, opened the door, and stepped inside our warm home. Everything went blurry. I had to stop for a few moments before walking any further into the kitchen. The sudden temperature change from cold to warm had caused my vision to immediately fog over with an opaque cloudiness. I fumbled my way to the box of tissues, pulled one, and began rubbing both lenses of my eye-glasses so that I could once again be able to focus on my surroundings.

“Let your eyes look directly forward, and your gaze be straight before you. Ponder the path of your feet; then all your ways will be sure” (Proverbs 4:25-26, ESV).

Throughout my adult life, I have noticed a strange phenomenon; my spiritual vision is often clouded by the coldness of the world that I journey through. Frequently, the mind-numbing evil that seems to pervade my daily walk, can take my focus from spiritual things and put them on the temporary challenges of trying to make it through another 24 hours. Everything gets blurry and if I’m not careful, I catch myself trying to stumble through.

“I pray that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened, so that you will know what is the hope of His calling, what are the riches of the glory of His inheritance in the saints…” (Ephesians 1:18).

The only clear focus that I regain comes from concentrating on the love of God. It seems to be the only hope for people (like me) who find themselves walking through the confusion of a world that often seems so dreadfully cold.

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About Michael Temple

Michael Temple

writes from Grand Forks, North Dakota.

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