clearly | b l i n d

posted in: On my mind | 0


i n t r o d u c t i o n

5:00 am and I’ve been jolted to consciousness. Gone are the scenes of heroism where there are burglars in my house, but it’s not my house, but it is my house. I sneak in without them knowing, and give them a proper beating and save the day. But that’s gone, and now I am awake, in my bed, in my house, which really is my real house. 5:00 am and I am awake. Awake because the woman I love, asleep next to me, is pregnant and has been pregnant for the past 7 months. Awake because, for the past 7 months, as our baby grows, so do I. Not in wisdom or stature, as I have wish would have happened, no, but in, as some call it, in sympathy weight. So in deciding wether to buy all new clothes or go to the gym, I opt for the gym. So, here I am. Hello, 5:00 am. You look a lot like midnight. After a brief moment of deciding wether to 1) tap my phone to snooze, or 2) swipe my phone to turn off the alarm (not to actually wake up, but rather to fall back asleep and not be disturbed again by my alarm), I finally decide to be disciplined today. Groggy, I roll out of bed. Gym clothes. Wash face. Glasses off. Contact lenses in. And then, in the midst of my zombie state of getting ready for the gym, I have a beautiful revelation. It is not Friday. Last night, I thought today would be Friday. But, it’s not Friday. And because it’s not Friday, I can actually sleep for an extra 30 mins. It may not seem like much, but in zombie mode, 30 mins sounds like 8 hours. In my euphoria resulting from my revelation, a blur of undoing my getting ready for the gym takes place and I roll back into bed.


s t o r y

5:30 am and I’ve been jolted to consciousness. Hello, 5:30 am. You, too, look a lot like midnight. I’m laying in bed, wide-eyed, staring into the pitch blackness of our bedroom. And then, as I stare into the darkness, a thought comes into my mind. I have fallen asleep for these past 30 minutes with my contact lenses in. That’s never good, but in my half zombie half euphoric state right before going back to sleep, I must have forgotten to remove my contacts. In my head, I decide this because the pitch blackness looks so clear, not like blurry pitch blackness, but clear pitch blackness. Well, my contacts haven’t dried out in my sleep, thankfully, so they are not irritated. Giving my eyes a second to adjust to the dark, I roll out of bed. I can’t believe I actually fell asleep in my contacts. I’m usually so good about not doing that. Gym clothes. This hoodie, those sweat pants. It’s still dark, but I can see alright, especially since I already have my contacts in. I shouldn’t have fallen asleep in my contacts. I am reminded of my optometrist in high school that told me that I needed to stop sleeping in my contacts because it caused a scar on my eye that, had it been a few millimeters to the left, I’d be blind in that eye. I’d been much better about doing so, so I was mad at myself for letting it happen. I then make my way into the bathroom where, I can finally turning on some light with out possibly waking my wife. As the lights burst on, my already small eyes squint even more. As my eyes now adjust to the light, I see that the sink, the shower, my tooth brush, towel, and razor are all blurry blobs of color running together. Then, it hits me: I’m actually not wearing my contacts. Partly relieved that I was risking blindness in my sleep, partly confused as to how I was actually not wearing my contacts. This whole time, I had been so convinced that I was. So much so that it caused me to take the action of picking out clothes in the dark (that, surprise surprise, didn’t even match) and caused my mind to worry about risking blindness, neither of which would have happened if I only knew that I was actually not wearing my contacts at all! For those moments before I was, quite literally, enlightened, I thought I was handing myself in a very reasonable way and thinking very reasonable thoughts. However, once enlightened, what became clear was that those moments prior were actually ridiculous. Only a fool would confidently pick out clothes in the dark. Only a fool would be so worried and regretful about something that never even happened. Only a fool would be me. And only a fool would write that previous sentence.


a p p l i c a t i o n

This caused me to think about the lost. Who, as the Bible teaches, are blind to the truth and in darkness. In the pitch black, unable to see the truth, they have thoughts and they take actions that, to them, seem completely reasonable. However, to those enlightened, their actions and their thoughts seem foolish.

Although my spiritual enlightenment (salvation) came at the fairly young age of 14, it was old enough to be able to see a contrast between the years I lived blind, in darkness. I can see the contrast of the things I used to do and think to what I do and think now.

Many around the world are lost and blind to the truth. And they have no idea. What are we, who have been enlightened to the truth of the Word of God, doing about it? Let’s flip the switch. Cause the light of Jesus to burst into their darkness. Shine your light. Preach the truth.

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