A Time to Turn

Spot

In high school, I took a crash course in dance.  I’d never taken ballet, or tap, or even jazz, but decided to try out for the school’s new dance team.  By some miracle, I made it.  Several of the girls were amazing.  And several of us were… well, let’s just say we were beginners. 

In our first week of practice, we learned to “spot” as we pirouetted across the floor.  Later, we learned the same spotting technique helped our balance in a high-kick line, too.

Spot.  To focus on one small thing as you spin.

Spot.  To find.

Look

The tiny learner sat weeping on the playground.  As I knelt beside her, I could see she’d skinned her knee.  Each time she looked down at the cut, her sobs began again.  “Look at my eyes,” I encouraged.  “Don’t look at your knee, just at me.”  A trip to the nurse and a band-aid fixed her tears quickly and she bounded out of school later that afternoon as if nothing happened. 

Look.  To search

Look.  To hold one’s gaze.

In this season, everything seems to be spinning, almost out of control.  We are washed from emotion to emotion with news stories and hope, isolations and comparison, illness and healing. 

My attention span is shorter than usual, as is my fuse.  It takes me longer to settle into work projects or to writing, reading, listening, or even quiet.  My heart’s gaze flits from thought to feeling to action, through the opposite of each and back again.

Turn Your Eyes

One morning, I sunk deep into my chair with a sigh.  My mind already spinning, I opened my Bible and closed my eyes.  “God, I walk into your throne room with wringing hands and a racing heart.”

Deep within my soul, the words of an old hymn began to whisper, “Turn your eyes upon Jesus, look full in his wonderful face.  And the things of earth will grow strangely dim, in the light of His glory and grace.” (click here for the link to Lauren Daigle’s version here, it’s a beautiful moment of worship)

Turn your eyes.  Spot Him.  Hold His gaze.

In Ashley Hales’ book, Finding Holy in the Suburbs, she writes “the work of being beloved is a constant returning… it is in starting daily liturgies that draw us in to a beauty that overwhelms and is even present through the pain.”

Naturally, our eyes turn toward what catches them, but faithfulness is the choice to turn our eyes back to God’s face, to remind ourselves to look for his hand.

Let’s look, my friends.  Look for His face.  Look for His hand.  If something else catches your eye, choose to turn, to return, again. 

Let’s fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith…

Hebrews 12:2

Hugs and Blessings – Bethany