It’s strange, but sometimes my mind thinks in poetry. Ever since our return from El Salvador, I’ve been having daily realizations of the person I am and the person I need to be. The following is just a glimpse at a few of the revelations I’ve had.

“My Eyes”

My eyes don’t see like Yours, my God. They’re flawed, judgmental, dim.
Instead of seeing souls to save, my eyes see flesh and skin.
Instead of seeing those for whom Your Son suffered and bled,
I see people through eyes of hate; of prejudice, fear and dread.

My eyes aren’t like Your eyes, O God; they’re blinded by my pain.
They’re bitter and they’re cynical, unkind and unashamed.
Instead of looking at the lost as pitiable and in danger,
my eyes look out for number one–and never for a stranger.

My God, I beg You to heal my eyes with Your salve and tender touch.
Help me see each passing one as souls who need Your love.
Help me, God, to train my eyes away from clothes and color,
and instead focus them solely on loving one another.

My eyes aren’t like Your eyes, my God, but help them so to be.
Help me to see others through the eyes which You see me.

Because Your perfect eyes see my scars and flaws,
see my hurts and wants, see the broken parts.
And Your perfect eyes see past who I was,
onto who I’ll be–in eternity–with You.