The saying tends to be:
“Now you see it, now you don’t.” But I want to turn that a bit differently with
my blogpost this week and say, “Now you don’t see it, now you do.” Take a look
at this photo and see what you can see.
No doubt some of you see
it, especially because I have asked you to look at it, and your senses are
piqued to perhaps study it a little more intently on account of that. But what
if I hadn’t asked? What if I had just posted the photo with no request to look
at it? You may then have asked, “What in the world did Rick post this photo
for?”
Of course, perhaps some
of you don’t see anything yet, at least nothing that you can specify. And that
would not be surprising because there is something there not easy to see. It
would exactly make my point, that sometimes you see it, and sometimes not. Or
perhaps you see something but can’t quite make out what it is. So scroll down on
this post from here to just below the screen shot and I’ll give you a close-up.
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Lovely, isn’t it?
Clicking on the original photo will cause it to enlarge, and you might see the precious
little thing a bit better. It's just a bit above photo center. Here's another shot from a slightly different angle:
With my apology for
doing another photo of the month featuring a fawn so soon after having done another (only two months ago, click to see it),
I could not resist getting this up as soon as I could.
About a month and a half
ago Gail and I took a trip up north to Minnesota, where I had been asked to speak
at a retreat for daughter Sarah and son-in-law BJ’s church, First Covenant of
Minneapolis. It was a one-day affair held at the Dunrovin Christian Brothers
Retreat Center of curiously-named Marine-on-St. Croix, Minnesota, up along St.
Croix River, a beautiful NSR (National Scenic Riverway) that here forms the border between the North Star State
and Wisconsin. We had a fantastic time among the people of this fantastic
church.
In addition to speaking
for the retreat, Gail and I were also asked if we might lead some kind of
reflective elective, so we offered to do something we love, and led a couple
nature hikes during the day. The first got off about 10:30am, and we ambled
uphill, up Dunrovin’s long driveway, giving a bit of introduction to the
appreciation of God’s good earth. We
were headed for a spot where we knew that a trail cut north from the driveway
into the woods; Minnesota had struggled with excess rain and flooding this
spring, and much of Dunrovin’s trail system along the St. Croix was underwater
or muddied beyond use.
We could not have been
more than fifty yards into the woods before we came across this little delight
not six feet from the trail. As often happens, this little guy’s mama had left
it to go eat, would make its rounds and return later in the day. Dangerous? Not
particularly. Fawns are relatively odor-free and have an instinct to not move a
muscle, nary a twitch, when left in this situation. Further, their two hundred
white spots can produce a dappled effect that gives them a better blending
camouflage, rather than showing a solid chestnut coloring. And that’s the
point: predators can walk right by a resting fawn and not have hint of its
presence. In fact, we may have walked right by it if it had not been for
fifteen pairs of eyes on the lookout for cool things.
In all my personal trail
and forest wanderings, I have come across fawns like this only four times in my
life, sometimes in the oddest of places, and so was able to impress the fact
upon the participants that unless they spend a lot of time in the woods, this
might be the only time in their lives they might see such a wonder. It was a
great blessing from God, and they needed to see it that way. They did. And the
fawn’s sighting became the buzz when we returned to the larger group back at
the center. Imagine our delight when a dozen more afternoon nature hike
participants were able to see the fawn still lying there four hours later; it
made our ultimate return to the center in a drenching rain more than worth it!
A very small group of us
went up again a couple hours still later and got some photos. I thought it’d be
cool to take a photo of the forest floor context in which the fawn was lying,
and then from the same position, zoom in on it; thus resulted this photo pair.
We checked one more time, around sunset, and the fawn was gone, by then its
long patience rewarded with an ample meal.
As I have continued to
think about this issue of sometimes seeing and sometimes not seeing, something
Jesus said occurred to me. He is grieving the fact that some constantly refuse
to see what God would love to have them see. Here’s how he says it:
This fulfills the prophecy of Isaiah that says, "When you
hear what I say, you choose not to understand. When you see what I do, you
choose not to comprehend. For the hearts of these people are hardened, and
their ears cannot hear; and they have closed their eyes so their eyes cannot
see... and their hearts cannot understand and they cannot turn to me and let me
heal them." (Matthew
13:14-15)
There is so much in
nature to see, but it often takes a special patience. The same is so true when
it comes to spiritual things as well. Though God doesn’t tend to camouflage
himself, we still can often miss what God longs for us to see, to hear, and to
comprehend. Pray with me for opened eyes.
~~RGM, July 12, 2014
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