True Perspective
“Look at everything as though you are seeing it either for the first or last time, then your time on earth will be filled with glory.” ― Betty Smith, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn (1943).
A couple of weeks ago, I went for a bush walk up the hill behind one of our local icons, the Trial Bay gaol. The old gaol, which had a relatively short life as a prison, was used to house German prisoners of war during World War One. Sadly, most of the inhabitants were not soldiers, but German civilians caught up in the hatred that permeated the country at the time. Everyone from that nation was treated with the utmost suspicion, which created a skewed perspective of every person of German nationality.
Walking up the path, I sensed the Lord saying, “Stop and look around. What do you see? What do you hear?”
Broken branches scattered everywhere. Dirt path. Rocky ground. Very few plants. Some green grass trying to break through the hard dirt. Sound of the crashing waves of the ocean in the distance.
“But, look deeper. What do you see and hear?”
A carpet of pine needles covering the rocky ground - a place to sit - a cushioned place to land, rest and listen to the wind in the trees. Pink and purple flowers growing out of the hard ground. Birds flitting through the trees.Some light grey clouds hovering low on the horizon.
As I continued up the hill, I pondered what I was being taught in that moment. Then it came to me - perspective! In its narrow sense, perspective is our own way of looking at something, but if we dare to pan out to a wider lens, it is, as the Cambridge Dictionary states, ‘the ability to compare something to other things so it can be accurately and fairly judged’.
As I came to the top of the hill, the vista opened up to reveal one of those impossibly beautiful days of blue skies and a gorgeous view of the aqua-green water of the Pacific Ocean. Best of all, yellow flowers abounded! Those who know me well know that yellow is my favourite colour, and the joy I gained from seeing this colour in nature was palpable.
And I was once again reminded of how small my perspective can be. I began to realise that my perspective is very skewed when my eyes are on the ground and my immediate surroundings, or when I only see what’s right in front of me with a more negative lens. If all I am doing is dwelling on myself and my circumstances, then all I will see is the hard rocky dirt and the barrenness of my existence! I can so quickly lose sight of the ‘bigger picture’ of the world around me as I focus in on my own life and busy myself with my little to-do lists and the things that just have to get done …yesterday!
As I contemplated the meaning of perspective, I was drawn to an old poem called ‘The Weaver’. When all is well and life is going well, we are content with our circumstances. But when the trials and griefs of life hit, we become very uncertain and struggle to see what the pain means and why we are going through these trials. What is the meaning of it all? and that is where perspective can be such a gift. If we can step back and see the bigger perspective of our lives as a tapestry being woven together throughout our whole journey here on earth, with all its joys and sorrows, we realise that how our lives unfold is not really in our control at all. It is only God, the creator of life, who sees and weaves the full, beautiful picture of what everything means in the scheme of the one life we have been given.
Some of the most beautiful, peaceful people I have met are those who have experienced the greatest traumas in life. They have learned that their lives matter to God, that nothing that happens is without purpose, and that there is such hope beyond the pain of this temporal world. I would call that faith.
I share this with you today in the hope that you know that all you are experiencing is not some random series of events designed by the universe to crush you under its weight, but all part of the tapestry of a life that is infinitely valuable to the One who created it.
The Weaver by Grant Colfax Tulliar (1869-1950)
My life is but a weaving between my Lord and me.
I cannot choose the colour He worketh steadily.
Oft times He weaveth sorrow And I, in foolish pride,
Forget He sees the upper and I the underside.
Not till the loom is silent and the shuttles cease to fly,
Does God roll up the canvas and explain the reasons why.
The dark threads are as needful in the skilful weaver’s hand,
As the threads of gold and silver in the pattern He has planned.
He knows, He loves, He cares; Nothing this truth can dim.
He gives the very best to those who leave the choice to Him.
As someone once said, perspective is a beautiful thing!
Until next time…