I see beauty as shiny. Sparkly. Without flaw. Brand new.
Certain colors trump others. My eyes know. They’ve been trained to look past so much to find what is beautiful. To reach for the perfect. To desire fresh.
If I won’t grab the damaged cereal box on a shelf, how will my heart embrace the broken life?
It’s humbling, really. That you would choose me, when I won’t choose others.
It’s because you see different. Your eyes find beauty everywhere.
Because your lens is love.
In the lost. In all colors. In the hooded. In the damaged. In the hurting. In the dirty.
You reach and draw near to you all those in need of your love.
Because your eyes see with grace. The kind that finds the lost. Loves the color.
Unveils the hooded. Heals the damaged. Comforts the hurting. And washes the dirty.
I want eyes like this. I want grace like this.
I resent my learned ways. For I’ve never really been able to abandon them, even while I embrace you.
These preconceived ideas are engrained so deep in my heart and mind that it hurts to carve them out. I’m not even sure I know how.
But teach me new ways of living and loving. Chip away at the parts of me that hinder your will.
The lessons of independence. The boundaries that exclude. The parts enticed by pretty packaging. The judgments that separate. The biases that dictate.
I’m tired of them being apart of who I am. But thankful for how they expose my need for Grace.
God, give me new vision. To see your creation as you do.
To love through seeing.
To see through loving.