Blind No More
When I was in high school, my church youth group would have overnights. Basically, we would meet at the church on a Saturday night and take over the building until Sunday morning. We would always begin the night with cooking something in the giant kitchen, and then fighting over who had to clean up. We would play game show type games in the sanctuary so that we could use the microphones and listen to each other be even louder and more obnoxious than normal. We would have relay races to see who could crawl under the pews from the back of the church to the alter first. And inevitably during the night we would play tag…in the dark.
I became an expert at walking around my church in the dark. The longer you were in the dark, the more your eyes would adjust and you could see. You could make out enough silhouettes to not trip over things, and generally enough features in someone’s face to know who it was. Your eyes adjusted. You could see…good enough. I’m amazed at how well you can adjust to the circumstances around you. Given enough time, you can see enough to be functional and get by. Although it isn’t perfect, nothing had much visual aesthetic appeal, but you could in fact see.
I’ve spent most of my life walking in a world that was void of true companionship and light. I have seen the world in silhouettes and a dark soft focus haze that has robbed me of the vibrancy that companionship can add. Today I occasionally have the lights turned on. The bright light of companionship almost blinds me. I find myself almost sheltering my eyes and squinting in disbelief at what the world really looks like. I find myself really truly seeing. Seeing a word full of vibrant colors and knowing without a shadow of a doubt that this is what I want.
I want true light blasting companionship. I want a world full of bright light, sharing time and space and life with another person. I want to see the world in the techno colored brightness of experiencing life with a partner. I want to know that the lounging and need that God gave me to experience partnership can be quenched. I want to finally rub my eyes and adjust, not to the darkness, but to the light. The bright, life giving light, and know that the joy that I find there was made for me.
Although I may never again race under a row of pews toward the alter, or never again play a game show in an empty sanctuary, I do know what it’s like to feel blind and then have sight. Today, I know…I want to see. I want to blink and know…it’s time. I want to live. I want to experience the almost blinding feeling of being who God called me to be. And today…that light means a life companion.