My mother, sisters and I (and all our kids) are severely near-sighted. ‘Last I heard, second only to Mom, my eyes are the worst. (Interestingly, God gave me a keen olfactory! I always say, “I can’t see for beans, but I sure smell good.”)
But my Coke-bottle glasses aren’t my only vision problem. If you’re a reader of this blog even as just a daily minute, I’m sure the cohesiveness hasn’t escaped you: this whipped pup has recently emerged from a long, unlit tunnel. I feel like God has accelerated my peripheral vision, and clicked on the high beams.
Ps. 119:105 Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path.
Oh, no worries: I haven’t been walking in the darkness, per se. And it does occur to me that the more I learn, the clearer it is that I know relatively little. But God’s Word tells us that Satan attires himself as an angel of light. We do well, on our pilgrim path, to look into the distance—to ascertain the source of the rays. Quite some time ago, I started stubbing my toes. I was in the light (Praise God!), but I couldn’t see the forest for the trees. Before long, I started bumping into walls, going in circles—and didn’t know why. I just thank God that He didn’t leave me on that road.
Ps. 18:36 Thou hast enlarged my steps under me, that my feet did not slip.
As for the time spent, I can’t blame anybody but myself (‘much as I’d like to). Each morning, before I can even depart from my bedside, I need those spectacles; without those babies, I dare not even traverse to the bathroom. You’d think that I could see clearly that trusting in faulty information put me in far worse danger than merely stubbing my toes on a dresser.