Devotionals

---

They are called "windows" to the soul. The Lord Jesus says they are the "light of the body." When listening to others, we rarely hear their words if we fail to search for the unspoken meaning in their eyes. Eyes convey kindness or sorrow, express anger and prevent closeness, or sing joyfully and invite you in. The light of the body reflects the godly heritage within our hearts.

Because I can't see God, I often don't hear Him. Whenever I'm feeling oriented, and lack Spirit-control, I'm stuck inside my "I" focus, and fail to look into the eyes of Jesus. Often I crave human compassion, as if kindness were easily found in a world marred with sin and tainted with negativity. Among my friends, I anticipate and am often disappointed when out of their own feeling orientation or blindness, they lack compassion. Like me, they too are looking for gentle eyes reflecting Jesus' love through the windows of a human soul having purposed to love Him with the whole heart, soul, and mind.

Heaven's vision draws me close. Like all unknowns, it's mystical, but more mysterious and attainable if my eyes are open. In the distance, I see the King of my heart, His eyes matching the purity of His heart. I'm angry and I'm confused, but mostly I'm hurting as my eyes seek out His. Fearful, I hesitate to approach Him, yet to avoid Him creates inequity rather than affliction. Sorrowful Job understood human pain; he was well acquainted with choosing God over the blindness of his own reflection.

My Lord and Savior, clothed in the only act of righteous love, doesn't speak. He beckons me to listen through His eyes, to discover the one meaning He longs to convey. I don't see His hands, although I feel His comforting touch. His arms don't embrace me, yet I sense His tremendous strength. We connect. I'm called into His penetrating eyes, which radiate pure light, and unveil His reality, making the mystery clearer and enlightening to my soul.

Whenever I fix my eyes upon truth, I am richer, stronger, and more whole. I hurt because I ache for love. Having lived in empty lies, I hunger for His banquet of truth. Like the Shulamite, I long to be part of my Beloved.

Jesus' eyes reflect pools of living water, endless hope, and tender mercy. What words He speaks in loving silence are somehow understood. In His eyes, I discover myself.

We're totally alone, and I'm locked into His gaze. I'm one with the ebb and flow of Living Water. I'm also ablaze with His uncontained glory, as life's cares fade upon receiving His unconditional acceptance. As He speaks to my heart, I rise above my feelings.

As intimacy transcends separation, love is all that matters. Why do I so often forget His grace and beauty as I waiver in unbelief? In His presence, my only true sacrifice becomes a contrite heart and broken spirit, humbling me into submission.

Now that He has my full attention, He speaks.

"Do you love me?" With searching eyes, He seeks to find Himself in me, to hear from within my heart. He waits for me to return His truth.

Like Peter, I'm deceived.

"Yes, I love You," I cower, convinced my reply must reveal my doubt. Like waves of the sea, tempest tossed at whim, I bounce back and forth in double-mindedness. If only He hadn't asked the question. Then I could simply live in His presence, without Him requiring anything of my condemning heart.

The old me wants to look away. I want to run and hide, but I can't let go of His eyes -- the depths of the one soul who alone wipes away sin.

He repeats, "Do you love me?" as if I were hard of hearing.

He certainly knows I'm hard of heart. He also knows how sin distorts the reality of His Word. Maybe this is why He always asks the same question. I must ponder truth, transform, or die.

My heart pounds, louder and faster. Like Peter, shame reminds me that I've left Him again. Whenever I deny Him, I'm separated from love. Many times, I've wept bitterly over rejecting Him, or out of willful ignorance and selfishness have demanded love from others when I've had little desire to reciprocate. It's only then that I begin to grasp a measure of His pain.

Truth emerges, as I listen with my eyes and receive His perfect love mirrored back to me. He questions me for the last time.

Am I willing to sacrifice my life for His, to die at the cross of my own self-righteousness and condemnation, to receive His love flowing from the Kingdom of God within?

For a split second, I look back, earthbound, into the eyes of my brother, only to find another empty soul, hungering for eyes of Heaven he hopes to find in me. Holding on to my brother's eyes is easier than the conviction of my own heart, but I can't find fulfillment in human limitation. The only grace I'm capable of giving lies in the confidence my of heart's answer.

"Yes, Lord, I agape You."

As my heart softens under His yoke of love, I see my brother with renewed vision. No longer searching for love, I'm free to share the abundance of my union with Jesus, God's grace pouring out His compassion through me.

No longer pondering an answer, my eyes emit His glory. Then, as my brother listens with his eyes, he discovers his heart's answer to God's most important question.

---

PLEASE ENCOURAGE AUTHOR BELOW LEAVE COMMENT ON ARTICLE