Walking By Faith

I read a book years ago called Fearfully and Wonderfully Made by Philip Yancey and Dr. Paul Brand. The book explains how wonderfully our body is made and how miraculously it works. I loved all the book, but one part, in particular, caught my attention.  It was the section on the eyes.

Part of this section told of people who had lost their sight as infants or were born sightless because of cornea and lens problems, but had healthy optic nerves. Through transplants and/or implants, they recovered the ability to see. Doctors had not expect the resulting emotional and psychological impact.

(A deer just walked past my glass bedroom door---exterior door!)

The subjects' world, which had consisted of either darkness or shadows, suddenly became a world of shapes, sizes, colors, and confusion. If shown a collection of balls, apples, oranges, and other spherical objects, they could not identify anything until they could touch and smell the items. Likewise, it was impossible to go up and down steps without their canes or guide dogs. They did not recognize depth or understand uneven surfaces by sight.

These people were now living in an alien world--a world that no longer made sense. If they were going to live in it successfully, they had to learn everything just as an infant would. Transition was very difficult. Some chose not to make the change, but to continue using canes and wearing dark glasses.

This section of the book came to mind during a recent conversation about the blessings of tithing.  In the black and white financial world, it makes no sense to give away 10% of my income. The facts are as plain as day, I cannot afford it. The money is not there. So, in the eyes of the world, I would be walking with my eyes wide open, by sight, if I chose not to tithe.

But I choose to walk as the Lord leads, in the light that the world does not understand--a spiritual light. So I give to him at least 10% of what I receive--money the world says I don't have. But somehow, in the mysteries of heavenly math, I end up with enough money to meet my needs, and sometimes more. It doesn't make sense. I don't understand it--and never will. And after almost fifty years of giving, I am still learning heavenly math.

The same is true with trusting God--I'm still learning. Discovering God's faithfulness? I'm still learning. Understanding my worth as His child? I'm still learning.

I guess what I am trying to say is this. Walking by faith and not by sight means stepping out of the recognizable, understandable world of physical sight into the mind-boggling, incomprehensible world of spiritual sight. The transition into this crazy, exciting, occasionally scary, always blessed world can be difficult, but is worth every step of the walk.

I'm not sure where I'm going or how I'm getting there, but it's in God's realm.

Walking my faith and not my sight (most of the time),
Jan