Springtime sights always enchant me. I am bedazzled not only by the floral offerings, but also by the assortment of greens – tender leaves in almost every shade imaginable.
The brilliantly green, yet ever so soft, white oak leaves. I remember them from the yard of my youth, and now a white oak graces the street that approaches our house as well as the trail of the Ruston park that we frequent.
The vivid green of the mammoth crepe myrtle that’s visible from our dining room window. It’s a jade bouquet that is surely giving the white oaks a run for their money.
And a few weeks ago in the very early spring as the leaves were just beginning to unfurl, those trees with the unexpected grayish-green tint that almost looks like a haze in the forest. I saw one of them as my husband and I were driving down the interstate, and that’s when I removed my sunglasses to make sure I got the full benefit of its splendor.
Actually, I’m a relatively new sunglasses wearer – well, apart from the transitional ones, that is. But since my recent cataract surgery, I’ve tried to add sunglasses to my regular routine. It was only this spring that I discovered what my latest pair does to my vision.
When I removed the glasses and gazed at Louisiana’s green grandeur, I realized what had been happening. The sunshades had darkened the green tones and stripped much of the color from those lime and avocado and emerald hues. What I had been observing was a much browner version of reality.
Except for the reds. For some reason, those became more dominant.
I instantly realized: My perception of the truth had been compromised. And I couldn’t help but apply that feeling to my life. To our lives.
How often do we travel through life with sunglasses on? With tinted lenses that alter our perception of reality while making almost everything a little bit off.
To be honest, I don’t want to do that. I want to know, as best I can, what reality actually is – as well as truth. So far, the best way – the only way – I have found to do that is to try to look at reality through God’s eyes.
Oh, to be sure, we’ll never see things exactly as God does because, well, He’s God and we’re not. But He does give us ways to draw as close to Him as we can and, in that way, our sight becomes clearer. You might even say that instead of sunglasses, He gives us a magnifying glass in order to see Him – and truth – more clearly.
Or He gives us a pair of clear lenses with UV protection. I have recently found out that they do exist. Or gray sunglasses. These exist, too, and, as with the translucent lenses, they’re said not to alter our true color experience. They represent reality as reality.
So where can we go to get a fitting?
There’s only one place that I know: the Great Physician’s Office.
The good news is that He has provided us with a guidebook of how to get there. What’s more, the office door is always open, and there are never-ending appointments available.
As Paul prayed in Ephesians 1:18, may the eyes of our hearts be enlightened so that we may know the hope to which He has called us. May we be like the blind man whom Jesus cured at Bethsaida, who, immediately after the miracle, saw everything clearly.
May the green hues in our lives be the most verdant ever.
Sallie Rose Hollis lives in Ruston and retired from Louisiana Tech as an associate professor of journalism and the assistant director of the News Bureau. She can be contacted at sallierose@mail.com.
