Skip to main content

can you see me now?

I have been wearing glasses for just over 53 hours - slightly less, I guess, because I don't wear them when I am sleeping. I have been a faithful contact lens wearer for many years now and wearing glasses for more than a few hours at a time takes some getting used to. I even went to see a movie last night with four eyes and it was fine. However, once you are used to the consistent sharp vision and effortless clarity that contact lenses offer, completely unfettered by frame lines, what I see through my glasses seems to be a cheap imitation.

The reason for this sudden change in what I put in front of my face in the morning is that I am going to the Montreal Eye Clinic tomorrow for a consultation regarding laser eye surgery and the tests require that I be contact-free for three days. I have had myopia since I was a teenager and it is just something one lives with. Optometrists become your friends, and pupil dilation and sticks with yellow dye on them pressed onto your eyeball don't scare you. And even though I basically know the eye chart off by heart, I have never cheated in an eye exam.

My thoughts the night before these tests are mixed. I would love to wake up every morning being able to see clearly, but, silly as it sounds, there is something that I would miss about the occasional state of being oblivious to anything except what is right in front of me. When I was acting, I used to do so sans glasses because that rendered the audience one big blur and I would not get distracted. Staying in character and really getting into the play were so easy when my sight line stopped at the edge of the stage. Is that a bad thing? I suppose the good part of it is a desire to single-task, to be wholehearted and present and focused. The not so healthy part of that is the fear of not being able to turn off my sight when I would rather not see, of remaining blind and oblivious and ignorant because it is easier not to be confronted with certain things.

I have asked God to heal my eyes plenty of times. So far, nothing. A generous gift from someone dear to me means this procedure is now a definite possibility, so I am exploring my options. Yes, I want to see better. No, I do not want to get so accustomed to my imperfect state that I turn away from healing or restoration in whatever form it is offered to me. Sometimes I think my yearning for wholeness is altogether too weak. God, forgive me.

These are my nifty red glasses on top of the laptop.

UPDATE: The consultation was most informative and after 2.5 hours of tests and interviews, I decided against the procedure. It seems that correcting my distance vision to that extent would mean that I need to wear reading glasses and really, the point was to get rid of glasses, I thought. Back to pursuing wholeness in other avenues.


Popular posts from this blog

the songs we sing

NOTE: I am going to make some pretty strong statements below, but understand that it is my way of taking an honest, hard look at my own worship experience and practice. My desire is not to be overly critical, but to open up dialogue by questioning things I have assumed were totally fine and appropriate. In other words, I am preaching to myself. Feel free to listen in.


When I am in a church meeting during the singing time, I sometimes find myself silent, unable to get the words past my lips. At times I just need a moment of stillness, time to listen, but other times, the words make me pause because I don't know that I can sing them honestly or with integrity. This is a good thing. We should never mindlessly or heartlessly sing songs just because everyone else is. We should care deeply about what we say in our sung, communal worship.

At their best, songs sung by the gathered body of Christ call to life what is already in us: the hope, the truth, the longing, t…

theology from the margins: God of Hagar

Our contexts have major implications for how we live our lives and engage with our world, that much is obvious. However, we sometimes overlook how much they inform our concepts of God. For those of us occupying the central or dominant demographic in society, we often associate God with power and truth. As a result, our theology is characterized by confidence, certainty, and an expectation that others should be accommodating. For those of us living on the margins of society, our sense of belonging stranded in ambiguity, God is seen as an advocate for the powerless. Our theology leans more toward inclusivity, and we talk less about divine holiness and righteousness and more about a God who suffers. On the margins, the priority is merciful and just action, not correct beliefs. 
There are significant theological incongruences between Christians who occupy the mainstream segment of society and those who exist on the margins. The world of theology has been dominated by Western male thought…

the movement of humility

We live in a context of stratification where much of society is ordered into separate layers or castes. We are identified as upper class, middle class, or lower class. Our language reflects this up/down (superior/inferior) paradigm. We want to be at the top of the heap, climb the ladder of success, break through the glass ceiling, be king of the hill. This same kind of thinking seeps into our theology. When we talk about humility, we think mostly think in terms of lowering ourselves, willfully participating in downward mobility. This type of up/down language is certainly present in biblical texts (James 4:10 is one example), but I believe that the kind of humility we see in Jesus requires that we step outside of a strictly up/down paradigm. Instead of viewing humility as getting down low or stepping down a notch on the ladder of society, perhaps it is more helpful to think in terms of proximity and movement.

Jesuit theologian, James Keenan, notes that virtues and vices are not really…