17 seeing a new thing I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not see it? Isaiah 43:19 It takes grace to see grace. Karl Barth 206 T he following story may seem far-fetched to some of our readers. Given that it happened many years ago, perhaps we can be forgiven if we have misplaced a few details, but anyone who has worked with urban kids who are unaccustomed to spending time communing with nature will know that our story is far from fiction. It is more likely that we are underselling the facts to maintain some degree of authenticity. Several years ago when I (Kris) worked with urban kids in Portland, Oregon, my friend Ron and I took a group of middle
256 geography of grace school kids to Mt. Hood for the day. Mt. Hood stands 11,000 feet high and is only 50 miles southeast of Portland. The mountain is an iconic feature of the region and provides a majestic backdrop to the cityscape on a clear day. Clouds frequently camouflage the mountain, but when the sun is out the mountain is spectacular and hard to miss. The infrequency of clear skies makes it all the more visually demanding when you can see it. It is a short drive to Mt Hood from Portland, and while the winding roads and lowland hills are thick with trees that make it hard to see the mountain at times, there are plenty of stretches where the mountain is clearly visible. There is nothing quite like rounding a bend in the road, and suddenly there it is 11,000 feet of mountain staring you in the face. It is imposing, intimidating, and breathtaking. In typical youth program fashion, we packed a fifteen passenger van with twenty kids from urban Portland, all of whom had never been to Mt. Hood and (as we discovered) had never seen it. To be more precise, they weren t able to see it. It was a beautiful, clear spring day and the mountain was in full glory. About 45 minutes into the drive, we had entered the national park and were nearing Timberline Lodge at the base of the mountain where we would spend the day. We rounded a bend and the mountain jumped out like a 3-D picture in full relief. Spectacular! Ron instinctively called out to the kids who were stuffed cheek to jowl in the back of the van, There it is! There was no response. We attributed this to the fact that the kids were completely engrossed in spirited conversation of the kind that is common to urban middle school kids. We rounded another bend in the road and were greeted once again with an amazing view of the mountain. Ron called out again to the kids,
seeing a new thing 257 Look at that! One of the kids acknowledged Ron and asked, Look at what? Ron pointed to the mountain straight ahead and said, That! Ron s animated voice caught the attention of the other youth, who repeated almost in unison, Look at what? As will often happen with leaders who become exasperated with the antics of the kids they serve, Ron became slightly irritated. He said, with some conviction in his voice, Look at the mountain, you knot-heads! What mountain? replied one of the kids. Where? replied another. Right there! said Ron who was now visibly frustrated and had rather hastily pulled the van onto a turnout in the road. He stopped the van and said, Look out the window, the mountain is right there! Again, the kids shouted, Where? I want to see it! I want to see it! Ron ordered all of us to get out of the van and stand facing the mountain that only he and I could see. He told the kids to look at the first row of trees across the road and asked if they could see the trees. Yes, they replied in unison, We see the trees. He said, Now lift your eyes a little higher. Can you see a small hill just beyond the first set of trees? Yes, they replied in unison, We see the hill. Ron said, Great. Now lift your eyes again and look beyond that hill... look a little higher... can you see... Before he could finish the question, the whole group started pointing and shouting in utter amazement, shocked at what they saw. There it is, there it is... look at the mountain... I can see it! Ron and I looked at each other in equal amazement, shrugged our shoulders, shook our heads and then laughed. God speaks through the prophet Isaiah and says, I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not see it? (43:19). As it turns out, seeing a new thing is not so easy, whether it s seeing an 11,000 foot mountain for the first time, or
258 geography of grace seeing the resurrected Christ for the first time. This is always a work of grace, and we can only handle so much of it at once. Seeing things as they actually are usually takes time. How else are we to explain the fact that no one no one! recognized the resurrected Jesus at first sight? Seeing the resurrection requires a second look, another glance. It takes a while for our eyes to adjust to the light of the resurrection, and then all of life looks radically different. In this sense, seeing a new thing is not so much seeing something that did not exist before, but seeing an old thing in a new way through a new lens. Such is the miracle of gospel sight to see what has always been there in such a radically new way that it becomes a new thing. We love Robert Barron s take on all this business about sight in And Now I See: A Theology of Transformation. Barron writes, Christianity is, above all, a way of seeing. Everything else in Christian life flows from and circles around the transformation of vision. Christians see differently, and that is why their prayer, their worship, their action, their whole way of being in the world, has a distinctive accent and flavor. 207 Unfortunately, Barron s ideal has not always been the reality for many of us who call ourselves Christian. Seeing as a Christian is not necessarily the same as seeing Christianly. Learning to see Christianly, (especially for Christians) very often takes time and dedicated practice. Most of us are like the blind man in the Gospel of Mark who is led by the hand out of the village by Jesus, who then touches his eyes with saliva. At first the man sees only trees, but after a second touch from Jesus he saw everything clearly (8:23-25). Interestingly, the second touch that allows us to see life through the reality of the resurrection of Christ is different for
seeing a new thing 259 each person. Consider Mary Magdalene at the tomb. At first the resurrected Jesus addresses her in a general way, calling her woman. Upon hearing this, she doesn t recognize him. She thinks Jesus is a gardener (Jn. 20:15). But when Jesus calls her by her name, Mary, she recognizes Jesus and runs to embrace him. Thomas needs to touch the wounds of Jesus before he can see. In touching the wounds, Thomas s eyes are opened and he declares that Jesus is my Lord and my God (Jn. 20:28). For Peter, it is just the opposite. Instead of Peter touching the wound of Jesus, Jesus touches Peter s wound. Jesus puts his finger on the wound through a series of questions that mirror Peter s denial of him. After Jesus repeats his question a third time, the text says that Peter felt hurt (Jn. 21:17). We are witnessing a kind of divine wounding of grace. In touching Peter s wound, Jesus not only restores Peter, but forever changes the way Peter sees that most tragic day in his story. For Cleopas and his friend on the road to Emmaus, it is only after Jesus presides over the meal that they recognize the stranger who has been with them throughout the day. By reenacting the last supper, Jesus helps them remember, and their eyes were opened and they recognized him (Lk. 24:31). And Saul (Paul), the murderous persecutor of the early Church, finds himself on yet another path to sight. Jesus blinds Saul so that he might see. After hearing the voice of Jesus, though his eyes were open, he could see nothing (Acts 9:8). It requires a fearful Ananias to lay hands on Paul, and something like scales fell from his eyes (Acts 9:18). Each person s path to sight is a unique process. Grace gives sight to the one who is blind and blinds the one who sees. It works both ways. In John 9, after healing the blind man and dealing with the controversy it generated among the Pharisees, Jesus summarized his ministry this way, I came into
260 geography of grace this world for judgment so that those who do not see may see, and those who do see may become blind (9:39). This is a confusing verse at first glance because it sounds uncharacteristically harsh and judgmental, but a closer look reveals that Jesus is making something more like a non-judgment. He turns the tables of their tit-for-tat, quid pro quo thinking into a lesson on the radical nature of grace. The entire story of the blind man in John 9 is set against the backdrop of sin and judgment. The unexamined assumption for all of the characters in the story is that the man is blind because he is under God s judgment someone had sinned, the only question in their minds was who. Was it the blind man? His parents? Who messed up? Jesus refuses to be drawn into the rivalries surrounding the blame game. And yet they insist on knowing God s judgment. In the end, Jesus gives them the judgment of God, which is grace a grace that works in two directions. If you re blind (and know it), I will give you sight so that you can see. If you think you see (but are blind), I will blind you so that you can learn to see again. God s grace falls on both. Either way, it takes grace to see grace.