When the optometrist pulled out the lenses, proclaiming this is what it’s like without any glasses, then put the lenses back in, the difference was nothing short of remarkable.  I had literally no idea what I was missing…

You see, I was fine (or so I thought) before I learned that I needed glasses.  Sure, I found myself asking my children if they could tell me the score of the basketball games on TV, casting it off as just tired eyes from a long day at the office.  My wife would steal a glance my way, smirking, offering to schedule an optometrist visit for me.  That was back in May.

It took me until August to finally go in to get my eyes checked.  Some might call that denial, I might chalk it up to busyness, but nevertheless, it took me months before I ever got myself over there.

If I’m honest, there was an element of pride there too; literally everyone else in my family (mom, dad, siblings) wears glasses.  I was the “special one” who bucked the trends and was able to rise above the inferior eyes of my biology and roll without the aid of enhanced eyesight.

Come to think of it, I suppose I’ve carried that positive outlier mentality around with me my whole life.  I was always the one most likely to try something new because nobody had ever been able to pull it off before.  And in many cases throughout my life, it has worked, at least to some degree.

And so to admit the possibility of my own frailty was honestly a bit of a challenge…

As the doctor clicked in the lenses, I was utterly astonished at what I could see, especially when he compared that with the level of vision my eyesight afforded me before.

When I was younger I used to have perfect eyesight.  But over the years, the slow degradation of my eyes rendered me with neither a strictly far-sighted nor a near-sighted condition.  In short, my eyes were a mess. 

And I had no idea.

It’s kind of like many things in our lives, isn’t it?  We think we’re fine, that we don’t need any help, and all the while we’re on this path that’s eroding out from under us.  The problem is, the erosion is so subtle that we really don’t notice it while it’s happening. 

I remember experiencing this type of spiritual erosion while in college—the faith I had grown up with had slowly become more and more blurry until I reached a point where I wasn’t sure what I was seeing anymore.

I’ve hit similar places in my marriage, where the lack of spending intentional time connecting on an emotional level with my wife led the both of us to a place where our relationship became less than crisp, to say the least.

Each of those requires a separate discourse, but the common theme in both is that someone, or something (a jarring event, etc.) was the catalyst for bringing about more clarity and ultimately, a better and more complete spirituality; a better and more fulfilling marriage.

I’ve experienced this personal erosion at multiple times throughout my life and the tragedy is, the story repeats itself all too often: I don’t notice a thing until the ground has slipped out from beneath me and I’m stuck grasping for a sense of clarity.

I’m wearing my new glasses even as I write this.  I picked them up just a few hours ago.  The clarity I notice on the computer screen is astounding.  I notice a crispness to the words.  I also notice the threads on my clothing and the texture of the carpet near me.

As a friend put it, my life is now in HD, and it’s so incredibly revealing and freeing. 

And so I find myself in a spot where I’m grateful.  Grateful for others for shining a light on the flaws in my perspective, even if those flaws caused my pride to take a hit for a while.  Grateful for a God who sees all of me, messes and all, and is willing to take the time to click in the lenses, so to speak, provided that I am willing to allow him the opportunity.

And I’m hopeful.  Hopeful that I can learn something from this experience, where maybe I’ll be a little more receptive to others’ perspectives on areas that have subtly eroded in my life.  Hopeful that I’ll possess the courage to have these areas looked into, for the sake of bringing about healing and clarity.

Because if my eyes are any indication, I really don’t know what I’m missing.  And I’m oh so ready to usher in health in all aspects of my life, ridding myself of the blurry lines that exist in my emotions, my mind, and my spirit.

I’ll raise my glasses as a toast; here’s to the journey…