Open Our Eyes

A sermon about halting progress

Open the eyes of our faith, that we may behold Christ in all his redeeming work.

Today as we began, we prayed for the grace of opened eyes—the grace to see Christ at work redeeming the world around us. There is no better Sunday to pray this prayer than this, when all three readings are real eye openers!

First we meet Saul, a contemporary of Jesus. As the story opens the resurrection is still recent history, but Saul is already so bitterly and irrevocably opposed to Christianity that he is bent on blotting it out. He’s marching off to the great city of Damascus with its many synagogues, where it’s rumored that Jews are beginning to turn to Jesus. Saul is packing warrants for their arrest, so he can drag them back to Jerusalem for trial.

But outside the city gates something like a bolt of lightning strikes him, and a voice from heaven thunders, “Why are you persecuting me? Get up and go into Damascus, from now on I’ll be calling the shots.” Paul is blinded and nearly paralyzed, and he staggers into the city only with the help of his friends. He no more than arrives than Saul hears from God again: a visitor by the name of Ananias will soon arrive to pray for his healing, and his sight will be restored. Even as God speaks Ananias is already in prayer, preparing to seek Saul out. Ananias arrives and as he begins to pray scales fall from Saul’s eyes. Without delay is baptized and takes on a new name, symbolizing his new identity as the most zealous spreader of Christianity the world has ever known. Today we remember him by his new name of Paul, and his letters to churches he’s founded make up nearly half of the New Testament.

Next we meet the faithful Christian John, who writes some three generations following the resurrection. Probably John has learned about Jesus from preaching in one of the congregations Paul and his colleagues have founded, or founded by one of the congregations Paul has founded. One day John is deep in prayer and he receives a vision of the heavenly world beyond this one. He is overawed at the sight of angels, and rank upon rank of the risen faithful who surround the throne of Christ, all vibrantly singing his praises. But what’s this? John’s ear begins to pick up other voices joining the chorus, voices rising up from earth blending mysteriously with those high in heaven. All living creatures, and all who have ever lived and are now buried, are uniting in their praise of Christ. So this is the glowing dynamo which generated the bright light and high voltage energy that zapped Paul that day!

Finally we meet Peter, a contemporary and friend of Jesus who in the years leading up to the crucifixion walked and talked with him most every day. Peter is by no means set against faith the way Saul was. But neither is he a spiritual impresario like John. Peter’s faith falls somewhere in between, in the neighborhood of ours. He blows hot and cold, first making sweeping promises about what he will do for the Lord, and then dropping the ball and acting like he never knew Jesus. Now, only a few weeks after the resurrection, Peter has twice seen the risen Lord, and remains unsure what this experience means for his life. For now he just returns to what he knows, which is fishing. Jesus comes again and meets Peter here at the shore—the same way he meets us wherever we are. Jesus starts to speak when some 300’ still separate the two men; Peter can hear a voice wafting over the water, directing his attention to an unnoticed shoal of fish; but he can’t make out the face. It takes the help of another believer, standing beside Peter in the boat and peering in the direction of the voice, to make the connection: “It’s the Lord!” Peter’s friend cries. Peter still doesn’t see this for himself, but hearing the words of someone who does, he takes the plunge and swims for shore.

By the time he reaches shore the whole band of fishermen recognize Jesus. Jesus singles Peter out as leader and asks, “Do you love me?” There’s something significant about the way Jesus poses the question. The Greek in which the New Testament is written provides four different words we translate as “love.” The one Jesus picks refers to selfless, sacrificial love, the kind that lays down its life for another without asking anything in return. “Do you love me?” Jesus asks Peter. Peter replies that he does love Jesus, but Peter picks a different word which refers to simple fondness, friendship, and loyalty. “Yes, Lord, you know I’m your friend.” Jesus clears his throat and begins again, “Peter, do you love me selflessly, will you sacrifice yourself in following me?” Again Peter low-balls it, “Lord, you know how fond I am of you!” Jesus heaves a sigh and begins a third time, now stepping down his summons to the level of Peter’s current commitment. “Peter, at least are you really, really fond of me?” Peter doesn’t even notice what Jesus has done for him, how Jesus has closed the distance between the two of them from his side, as he always does. “Yes,” says Peter, “yes.”

The scales are falling from Peter’s eyes, but not all at once. He is in the midst of being converted so that he can see and serve Christ fully, but it is a slow, halting process. His eyes are just part way open. It will take several more personal encounters with the risen Jesus, and the incredible pow of Pentecost as God’s Spirit blows through him like a gale, before a wide-eyed Peter can finally fully see Christ at work, and truly follow him.

Here in the afterglow of the resurrection, these three stories invite us to open our eyes too, and let Christ’s light seep into our souls. I hope we’ll take these stories home with us, take time to read them again and to ponder them. Take time to ask ourselves, when have we, like John, been blessed with our own unspeakable God-moments? Perhaps it was upon beholding a dazzling sunrise, or a storm pounding the Pacific coast; or upon drawing life-saving strength from a believing friend, or holding our first child in our arms, or a chalice to our lips. Surely the Lord has been in the places we inhabit, and at times we see it.

Or when have we, like Saul, been vexed by our own resistance to believing and following…determined to run our own lives, on our own terms, according to our own private opinions. Are we sure enough of ourselves that we’re willing to open these edgy convictions to God, and ask to be shown if perhaps there are errors in our ways? We make such a bold move not for God’s sake but for ours, in order to save ourselves from striving against the Lord we long to serve.

Or when have we, like Peter, found ourselves simply making halting progress day by day…no real fireworks, no big frustrations, just simply following as faithfully as we could, opening ourselves to modest leaps of faith. It’s breathtaking how day in and day out, year in and year out, an accumulation of modest leaps add up to great gains.

Here, in the afterglow of the resurrection, I hope we take these life-giving stories to home and to heart, so that we may begin to behold Christ in all his redeeming work. Amen. Listen to the Sermon: