"Eye" am with you

If you look to the left in this photo, you’ll see two eye-shaped land formations that seem to be looking heavenward.  Actually slices of a hill too steep to plow, they are known locally as “The Eyes of the Palouse.”   Located deep in what’s called the “Palouse country” of eastern Washington—known for rolling scrublands and grain crops—they’re a welcome sight for us as we make the four-hour trip to see our daughter and family. As we travel east, seeing them means we’re just an hour from our destination. 

Our son and daughter both attended Washington State University on the far eastern edge of our state. (A few years later, my daughter and husband, who finished his degree there, decided to return there to settle after teaching two years in China.) During those many long back-and-forth trips during  our son and daughter's college years, the “eyes” reminded me of a Biblical allusion to God’s omniscience:

The eyes of the LORD range throughout the earth to strengthen those whose hearts are fully committed to him. (2 Chronicles 16:9)

Every trip, they symbolized for me how my student son and daughter, facing the challenges and trials of college life, were at all times watched by my Heavenly Father, the Lord of all. They turned out okay--praise God.  But I recalled how the same verse had helped me trust God through all the changes and travels I experienced as a young adult pursuing mission service, graduate school,  and a job halfway across the nation.

During our most recent trip past the “eyes,” however, other “eye” verses came to mind:

I lift up my eyes to you, to you whose throne is in heaven. (Psalm 123:1)

I lift up my eyes to the hills—where does my help come from?  My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth.  (Psalm 121:1-2)

Lately we've gone through some difficult issues in extended family. The struggle has been long and deeply wounding.  I yearn for hope or answers, but see none.  Then God reminds me: the solution is not my responsibility.  He is on the throne, not me.  He, the ruler of the universe, is in charge.

The great “I-am” is also the great “Eye-am” who sees all: past, present, future. And He is worthy of my trust and love, even when what I see is bleak:

Those who look to him are radiant; their faces are never covered with shame. (Psalm 34:3)

View from the top

It’s not the top of the world, but Sun Mountain above Central Washington’s picturesque Methow Valley is certainly a splendid setting.  As a winding road ascends, signs warn drivers to watch for wandering mule deer. These critters think they have priority on the road (and some, sadly, lose to a car). En route are scenic pullouts fully worthy of... WOW!

Normally, the rates at the Sun Mountain lodge are way beyond our budget.  But for a limited off-season time, they offered drastic reductions as a “community appreciation” for help in last year’s wildfires. Besides, it offered a memorable way to celebrate our 35^th wedding anniversary—in a “jacuzzi bridal suite,” no less!  The location was so peaceful, leaving me in renewed awe of the amazing landscape of this planet that God designed. 

A lot of people in reading through a Bible wonder if anything good can come out of the Old Testament books of Chronicles.  There’s a lot of gory, king-conquering, king-failing history in the books.  But there are also the fingerprints of God’s help and mercy.  Into that context was dropped this observation:

For the eyes of the Lord range throughout the earth to strengthen those whose hearts are fully committed to him. (2 Chronicles 16:9)

 Because it describes God’s character, this verse can stand by itself as well as in the narrative of foolish King Asa’s actions. (This was a king who had bad counselors and turned away from God.)  I know how it lifted me years ago as a single, when I wondered if God was aware of the challenges and troubles I faced.  Of course, God doesn’t have an “eye” as we would think of on humans. But the image provided for me that sense of larger watch-care when I went through things that were bigger and scarier than I’d ever encountered.

 Seeing the panorama of mountain beauty did something else for me.  It reminded me to seek the “high view” toward others who aren’t quite at the point of “hearts...fully committed to him.” I think the writer of Proverbs had that same sense when he wrote:

A man’s wisdom gives him patience; it is to his glory to overlook an offense. (Proverbs 19:11)
A wise person has selective vision. That person’s eyes may range to and fro, finding those who offend or oppose, but their heart of love forgives.

And that, as 2 Chronicles 16:9 says, is a strong, “love” response. It takes the high road, and looks down with mercy and love on all the daily-ness and struggles of life’s valleys.

Can you see why I loved the view?  And why it reminded me of God’s loving eye on me, wherever in life’s journey He takes me?

Where's the GBH?

“Shhh!” my husband whispered as we neared the swamp in our town’s riverfront trail system. “Look by the peninsula on the left.” I squinted to find the hump-shouldered outline of the huge gray bird amidst the dying foliage of autumn. Aware of our presence, it turned its S-shaped neck and waded out of view.I remembered previous times we came upon Great Blue Herons (GBH) in this swamp. One time, a pair startled us as they burst out of the cattails, whapping their six-foot-wide wingspans to lift four to eight pounds of body weight. They’re quite obvious aloft, but silent and nearly invisible as they troll the shallow waters for small fish to eat.

I thought of how we often fail to see God in the swamplands of life. When we end up in a place of disappointment or fear, we may feel He doesn’t notice us. That’s why one of the names of God, “El Roi,” meaning “The God Who Sees Me,” is especially poignant. We’re introduced to that aspect of His character through the Genesis 16 account of Hagar, Sarai’s maidservant. Pregnant with Abram’s child because of barren Sarai’s insistence on a surrogate, Hagar ran away when she couldn’t take Sarai’s jealousy and anger any more, collapsing by a little desert spring. Without hope, without direction, the desperate woman learned that Someone saw her troubles—God Himself. He told her to go back to Sarai and encouraged her with the revelation that the son in her womb would have a significant place in history. An ordinary water hole became a holy place. Thus she named it after her God-visit, Beer Lahai Roi, “Well of the Living One Who Sees Me.”

I find this story of great comfort. If God cares enough to intervene in a domestic dispute (albeit one with significant historical ramifications), surely He is aware of everything that goes on in my life. For many years, 2 Chronicles 16:9 has been a beacon of hope when I felt ignored and insignificant: “For the eyes of the LORD run to and fro throughout the whole earth, to shew himself strong in the behalf of them whose heart is perfect toward him” (KJV). It’s been a part of my memory bank so long that I can’t even recall the circumstances that put its truth into my life. But it’s there, a solid proclamation of God’s watch-care. Nothing can camouflage my actions or needs. He has seen it all, even before I was born and still in process in my mother’s womb (Psalm 139:15).

So where’s the GBH? Alone in his swampy disguise, known to God. And where am I in my deepest need, my most frustrating situation, or a place where God seems excluded? Right in the focus of God’s perfect telescope, its cross-hairs in the shape of a Cross.