spiritual blindness

Darkness, Light, and Subjective Morality

~ Heather Davis ~ 2 Comments

As our 8:45 p.m. flight took off, I watched the ground fall away through the airplane window. The ambient brightness of the city at ground level faded quickly. Night encroached. In my bird’s-eye view, large pools of light pushed back the darkness as we gained altitude, soaring over stadiums, shopping malls, office complexes, and street lights. The further from the city we journeyed, the more feeble the pools of light became and the more prominent the surrounding darkness grew. An apt visual metaphor for subjective morality.

We were heading home from a brief visit with family members who do not have (so far as I can tell) a thriving relationship with the living God. During the visit, I was told about the kids’ “religious classes,” and one of said kids informed me on Sunday, “We don’t have to go to church.” God’s name was invoked in the standard secular way along with a string of other words my husband and I have allowed the Holy Spirit to excise from our vocabularies.

But more telling was the fruit. The desperate striving to be a “good person” on a sliding scale of virtue. Anger when one has been hurt by the actions of another, but justifying similar actions in oneself.

I hate him because of what he did to me; when I did it, it was for a good reason. It was different.

Justice struggling to find footing on an unstable, convulsing foundation of right vs. wrong. A steady undercurrent of fear and uncertainty and thinly-veiled shame. Palpable darkness seeping in at the edges.

It’s a world I used to embrace, and the reminder left me both sorrowful and grateful.

I am deeply grieved for loved ones still imprisoned by the deceitfulness of sin. Yet I am grateful for the One who healed my spiritual blindness and shined the light of Yeshua (Jesus), opening my eyes to the singular Way of escape from my self-constructed cage of sin, guilt, and evil.

I glanced back out the window. Only pinpricks of light appeared below now, far-flung and lonely in the inky blackness of the night.

All our human effort to eradicate the darkness of sin – whether the poison within own rebellious hearts or the evil stalking us from without – are like those dwindling lights.

At ground-level in a large crowded city, all seems well. Our self-made righteousness blends in, and while we may be doing worse than some, at least we’re faring better than others. One can think of the darkness as somewhere out there, far away. OK, maybe I’ve been around the block more than once, but at least I’m not a murderer.

In the throng, it’s easy to fit in. Easy to hide.

But when we’re alone, the darkness looms and our good works flicker like a lit match in a drafty room. There’s no real warmth, little light to see by, and nowhere to run when the light is snuffed.

We can try to push back the darkness on our own, but we’ll never get far. A centimeter, a meter, maybe a little more, but our little circle of good works quivers as hungry shadows press in from all sides, waiting. Unrelenting. Inexorable.

No matter how good we try to be, we can never do enough good to erase the evil we’ve done. Instead, our good deeds only serve to highlight the murkiness of our motives and the taint upon our souls. The dim light we produce is shot through with shades of inadequacy.

On our own, we’re caught in a losing battle of push-and-shove against our very nature. We cannot rescue ourselves from this losing battle; we can only prolong the inevitable moment when the darkness forever swallows our faint gleam.

But there is hope. There is a true and effulgent Light of the World powerful enough to banish darkness; a Light that heals and cleanses and restores and renews. And He has a name.

Walk as children of light (for the fruit of light is found in all that is good and right and true), and try to discern what is pleasing to the Lord. Take no part in the unfruitful works of darkness, but instead expose them. . . (Ephesians 5:7-11).

Friend, if you’re caught in the flickering and uncertain light of subjective morality, this is an invitation to you. There is a real Light, a true and powerful Light unconquerable by the darkness. His Name is Yeshua, commonly called Jesus in English. He is the Way, the Truth, and the Life, and the light of truth He brings is strong enough to scour the deepest and oldest stains from your very soul if you will turn your back on your sin and run into the light of His love and grace.

His morality is true Light, and while He knows we can never measure up to God’s standard of perfect holiness, He offers Himself as a bridge. Through His torn body, we can cross over from darkness to light, from death to life.

There, in the powerful Light of Truth from whence the Glory of God shines, the stains of our rebellion are scoured away. He’s given us the Word of Truth, and by its light we see Light. All our horrible secrets are laid bare, but in that pure light, they are exposed to be excised by the Healer of our souls.

But when anything is exposed by the light, it becomes visible, for anything that becomes visible is light. Therefore it says, “Awake, O sleeper, and arise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you” (Ephesians 5:13-14).

In Yeshua, we are restored to what we ought to be and have no more need of fallible, artificial lights of our own making. In Him and through Him, the full radiance of righteousness shines.

He is the only way; humanity’s only hope. But we must make a choice. We must choose Him; His way of sacrifice, letting go what we once were to become what He created us to be.

Step into the Light, let Christ shine on you, and find joy and peace, healing and wholeness, and rest for your soul.

“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son,
that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.  
For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, 
but in order that the world might be saved through him.  
Whoever believes in him is not condemned, 
but whoever does not believe is condemned already, 
because he has not believed in the name of the only Son of God. 
And this is the judgment: the light has come into the world, 
and people loved the darkness rather than the light because their works were evil. 
For everyone who does wicked things hates the light and does not come to the light, lest his works should be exposed.
 But whoever does what is true comes to the light, so that it may be clearly seen that his works have been carried out in God" (John 3:16–21).

Like Trees Walking

~ Heather Davis ~ 2 Comments

And [Jesus] took the blind man by the hand and led him out of the village, and when He had spit on His eyes and laid His hands on him, He asked him, “Do you see anything?” And he looked up and said, “I see people, but they look like trees, walking.”

Mark 8:23-24, ESV

Healing the Blind

I love the Gospel accounts of Yeshua (Jesus) healing the blind because I know He’s in the same business today. For any who are willing, my Lord still heals spiritual blindness – a blindness far more profound than the mere absence of sight. Of all the blind men He healed, the one that resonates most with me is the healing recorded in Mark 8:22-25.

Distorted Vision

Mark’s account is singular in that Yeshua’s healing did not seem to “take” at first. This unnamed fellow’s sight did not immediately return. Instead, he began to see in stages, and his first glimpse of the world offered a distorted image of reality.

I can relate because I also began to see in stages after the Lord first touched me. He did not heal the abysmal spiritual darkness in me all at once. Instead, my first glimpses of the real world remained distorted by the lens of secular humanism I first embraced as a teenager.

The humanist worldview led me to view life as a silly option and death as the more logical choice. The more I saw through this murky lens, the darker life grew until blackness reigned unchallenged.

Worldview Breakdown

Secular humanism provides insufficient answers to questions of mankind’s purpose and meaning. Their efforts to touch these concepts lead in circles, much like Pooh and Piglet following their own tracks in the snow.

In adulthood, questions began to buffet me in the thick darkness of my chosen worldview:

  • If the end justifies the means, then why does my conscience prick me when I cause someone pain? 
  • If mankind sets the standard for right and wrong, what man gets to set it?
  • When others use me and I feel wronged, am I right or are they?
  • When social standards change, does right and wrong change, too?
  • Is life built on such an unstable foundation as all this?
  • If man is the measure of all things, then what’s the point?
  • Why bother with life at all?

Years spent groping in this philosophical darkness brought no peace but only multiplied my confusion. And quite frankly, the longer I groped in this darkness, the less sense the humanist worldview made.

As I rode the fluctuating and unstable tide of humanistic morality, I knew deep inside there must be a true right and a true wrong. Without a changeless absolute truth, life was purposeless, chaotic, and ultimately meaningless.

The moral question became one of life or death for me.

Beginning to See

This is where Yeshua found me.

He began to heal my spiritual blindness, but at first I saw neither Him nor His truth clearly. Instead, I saw a distorted version of reality blurred by drab layers of humanistic philosophy. At the Lord’s first touch, I saw enough to know He was there although I saw Him only dimly.

It took several applications of the Word of Truth before I saw clearly. And what I discovered was the world, seen through the crystal-clear truth of the Maker of all things, =made a startling, stark sense.

What About You?

I don’t know where you stand, friend. I don’t know if you see Yeshua through His Word or if you see an obscure shadow of Him; a man like a tree walking around. But I pray He will heal you fully so you may see the beauty of the Light of the World and all He illuminates.

Blinded: A Migraine Lesson

~ Heather Davis ~ 2 Comments

Some of the Pharisees near him heard these things, and said to him, “Are we also blind?” Jesus said to them, “If you were blind, you would have no guilt; but now that you say, ‘We see,’ your guilt remains.
(John 9:40-41)

In my last migraine post, I shared a bit about how one of the weirder migraine-associated symptoms (aphasia) has affected me and how God has used that particular bit of unpleasantness to pare down my pride.

And no, the irony that most of the time aphasia is associated with damage to a part of the brain is not lost on me. Like I said, it has been an effective humbler…

But these temporary bouts of aphasia are not the only oddities that migraine has brought into my life, nor are they the only symptoms that carry an embedded spiritual lesson. Let’s check out another one:

Ocular Migraine

While some degree of aphasia precedes almost 90% of my migraine attacks, ocular migraines are much less frequent. However, if my first bouts of difficulty speaking were disconcerting and embarrassing, my first ocular migraine was downright scary, not the least because I was driving with my three small children.

When they were all toddlers, it seemed we were forever driving to the pediatrician. Most of these trips were unremarkable, but there is one that stands out clearly in my mind mainly because “clearly” did not at all describe my visual ability.

I was on the interstate en route to the pediatric clinic when a jagged, roughly circular line of black and white appeared in the left of my visual field. It’s rather difficult to describe, but imagine a scintillating border of alternating, diagonal black and white stripes. Inside that flashing border is… nothing. Nothing at all.

At the time, I had no idea what was happening. All I knew was that there was some kind of funky hole in my vision – and that hole made it impossible to see if there was anyone in my left rear view mirror or in the lane beside me. Forget my vehicular blind spot – I had almost an entire blind side. 

By the grace of God, I made it to the pediatrician where I  had difficulty signing in because the left side of the page kept disappearing into this mysterious visual void. After unsuccessfully trying to tilt my head in a manner that brought the entire page into view, I finally told the receptionist what was going on.

To my horror, the nurses clustered around me, bringing me juice, getting me a chair, and in other ways causing what all young moms dread: a scene. Finally, one of the nurses or doctors asked if I had migraines, and when I replied in the affirmative, she reassured me that this was “normal” for migraine sufferers (a term that has only ever been applied to me with the addition of “normal for…“).

Since then, I have had a handful of these somewhat bizarre events, though now I know to just wait it out for 30 or 45 minutes. However, dealing with these unannounced blind spots got me thinking about a different kind of blind spot.

As I journey down the narrow path of sanctification, I have often asked the Lord not to allow me to be unaware of sin but to expose it. Lately, He has shown me blind spots in my relationships; places where I have areas where I have harbored resentment, allowing this ugliness to taint both my words and actions. Doing good works, maybe, but with sullenness rather than the cheerful gratitude which befits a daughter of the King. In other spots, rather than rejoicing in the success or blessings of my brothers and sisters in Christ, I have nursed a small and secret envy.

Rather than keeping my eyes on the Author and Perfecter of my faith as I ought to be doing, these blind spots of jealousy or bitterness have grown in an increasingly hungry arc across my view of certain friends or family members, blinding me to several of their very excellent attributes. Such blindness leaves ragged holes in what should be relationships alive with genuine warmth and closeness.

But my Father is good, and I am thankful that He does not leave me to grope about in the darkness of my own animosity. Instead, He chastises me,  revealing the full extent of the sin-taint by exposing it in the brilliant light of His own holiness and perfect love. When my sin is brought thus into focus, I feel a keen grief that leads to repentance.

Then by His redemptive power and loving mercy, He restores the sight of this old sinner, bringing His healing into the rifts of my relationships as well. Once I can see clearly,  love for my brethren and appreciation for their gifts is also revived.

So what are your blind spots? May He who gives sight to the blind cause us to recognize and repent of our sin so that we may be brought into a right relationship with Him and others.