Looking at the Sun

In every solar eclipse I've lived through (a few), I've heard the injunction: "Whatever you do, don't look at the sun."

Why? Because most of us have sense enough to know we'd be blinded if we just stared at the brilliant, burning orb in the sky. We can't handle it; our eyes burn and we blink and turn away. An eclipse is that much more dangerous, because while most of the sun is covered by the moon and our eyes can look at it longer, even the small crystal peering out from the side of the moon's cover can still blind us. It's just that bright.

So instead, we huddle over those little pinhole cards, or -- as someone showed me in the last solar eclipse -- the spaghetti strainer, and look at the little crescent shaped reflections on the cards instead of at the real thing.

This morning, I was thinking how interesting it is that, by and large, this world of nearly eight billion people know that the sun exists, that every single one of those nearly eight billion people depend heavily on the sun for all sorts of things, but not a single one of us has ever spent time studying the sun without a filter. No one can look for a length of time at the giant fireball in the sky without protection of some sort and come away still seeing.

And yet, that sun is one of the single most affective agents of our daily lives. How many songs and poems have been written about the sun? The globe revolves around the sun, our seasons depend on the sun, we plan our days around sunrise and sunset, our calendars and years.

It is one of the most dependable things we -- in a natural, physical way -- can associate with constancy. But we can't see it in all its splendor -- we can only see it partially, halfway, in reflected, hazy, or filtered form.

Twice, the Lord paused the sun's trajectory through the expanse of space:

Joshua 10:12-14 says: "On the day the Lord gave the Amorites over to Israel, Joshua said to the Lord in the presence of Israel: 'Oh sun, stand still over Gibeon, oh moon, over the Valley of Aijalon.' So the sun stood still, and the moon stopped, till the nation avenged itself on its enemies, as it is written in the Book of Jashar. The sun stopped in the middle of the sky and delayed going down about a full day. There has never been a day like it before or since, a day when the Lord listened to a man. Surely the Lord was fighting for Israel!"

The day the Lord paused the rotation of the earth around the sun in a miraculous, amazing, incredible display of His power. Surely the Lord was fighting for Israel!

Do you ever wonder if God has forgotten you? Look at this testimony of what He does for His people! He literally stops time... because Joshua asks Him to.

Blows my mind.

The second example is found in Isaiah 38. Isaiah, prophet of God, is given the fun task of telling the king of Judah, Hezekiah, that he's going to die, and he needs to put his house in order. 

This is the thing I've found about prophets: they are often tasked with speaking words, and some of those words aren't going to be pleasant. Listening to true prophets of God isn't always fun, because they're required to tell it like it is. They're mouthpieces for the Creator God. 

So here, Isaiah, true prophet of God, tells King Hezekiah as he's lying sick in his bed: "This is what the Lord says: 'Put your house in order, because you are going to die; you will not recover.'"

What does Hezekiah do? He prays. "'Remember, oh Lord, how I have walked before you faithfully and with wholehearted devotion and have done what is good in your eyes.' And Hezekiah wept bitterly."

And the Lord listens. He tells Isaiah to turn around and head back to the king with another message. "I have heard your prayer and seen your tears; I will add fifteen years to your life... This is the Lord's sign to you that the Lord will do what he has promised. I will make the shadow cast by the sun go back the ten steps it has gone down on the stairway of Ahaz.' So the sunlight went back the ten steps it had gone down."

God literally sends time backward as a sign that He has listened to Hezekiah's prayer. 

On a side note: You know, when we pray, we ask for things, hoping that God will respond in some way that we can't see, but how many times do we ask, believing that He will respond in ways that we can see? What if instead of asking for pain relief, we ask for the source of the pain to go away? What if instead of asking for safety from evil, we ask that the source of the evil be rooted out? 

Okay, back to the sun. I may or may not be procrastinating on reading through more of Exodus; I fully admit that parts of it are tedious to wade through, and I'm in the middle of one of those parts. I'm working it out. Meanwhile, I dropped into Acts 9 this morning, where I read the story of Saul's conversion. 

He's on his way to Damascus, getting ready to deliver some letters to the synagogues in that city from the high priest in Jerusalem, with instructions to round up followers of The Way (the Way of Jesus) who live in Damascus, and Saul is planning to take them as prisoners back to Jerusalem with him.

This would have included Ananias, who we don't hear much about otherwise, but who plays a super significant role in this chapter.

So Saul is trotting along on his donkey or his camel or whatever his transportational device is, and "suddenly a light from heaven flashes around him." And Saul falls off his traveling equipage and hits the dirt.

Think with me about the brightest, sunlit day you can imagine (mine usually includes water, because the reflection of the sun on water intensifies its brilliance). Think about that brilliance, and then flip over to Revelation 21:23: "The city does not need the sun or the moon to shine on it, for the glory of God gives it light and the Lamb is its lamp."

The light that flashes around Saul isn't the sun. It's the Creator of the Sun, it's the glory of the resurrected Lamb of God, and it's brighter than bright. And Saul can't look at it. It's blinding.

"Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?" Jesus asks him.

"Who are you, Lord?" Saul asks. This is an important question, because it shows us exactly where Saul is at the beginning of this three-day stretch. Jesus is a stranger to Him. Jesus is so familiar with Saul; He knows exactly what Saul is doing, has done, all the hate crimes he's committed, all the people he's "cancelled," all the persecution he's overseen... but Saul has never taken the trouble to get to know Jesus. He's never sat and listened to His followers. He's never taken the time to look at the Son.

So Jesus introduces Himself. "I am Jesus, Whom you are persecuting. Now get up and go into the city, and you will be told what you must do."

When Saul opens his eyes... he's blind. 

So he's led by the hand into the city of Damascus, where he fasts from food and water for three days and three nights.

Meanwhile, Jesus heads over to Ananias, follower of the Way, one of the people who would have been imprisoned and taken to Jerusalem if Saul's letters had reached the synagogues in Damascus. Jesus appears to Ananias in a vision and calls his name. "Ananias!"

Immediately, Ananias responds: "Yes, Lord?"

Look at the greeting comparison: When Jesus appears to Saul, Saul's response is: "Who are you?" When Jesus appears to Ananias, Ananias' response is: "Yes, Lord?" He immediately knows Who is speaking to him. He doesn't waste time saying: Wow, is this a figment of my imagination? Maybe I'm just hearing my own thoughts. I'm not Peter, or John, or one of the greats. I'm just me; why would God speak to me?

Implicit. Trust. "Yes, Lord?"

Jesus says: "Go to the house of Judas on Straight Street and ask for a man from Tarsus named Saul, for he is praying. In a vision he has seen a man named Ananias come and place his hands on him to restore his sight."

The implications of this are so cool. I get chills when God works things out like... like a zipper, each unit knitting exactly into place in order for the next thing to happen. God zips this whole situation up as precisely as it needs to happen in order for His plan to move forward. He appears to Saul. Saul starts praying. God shows him a vision of Ananias coming to heal his sight. Meanwhile, God heads over to Ananias' house, shows up in a vision and tells him to go fulfill the vision He's already given Saul. Zip it up, guys, come on. I've got an agenda!

Ananias... well, he's got to double check, because Saul does bring with him a bit of a reputation that could cost Ananias his life, and so if he's going to do this, he needs to just... be a little more sure. I can't fault him that.

"Lord," he says, "I have heard many reports about this man and all the harm he has done to your saints in Jerusalem. And he has come here with authority from the chief priests to arrest all who call on your name."

Jesus reiterates firmly: "Go! This man is my chosen instrument to carry My Name before the Gentiles and their kings and before the people of Israel. I will show him how much he must suffer for My Name." 

Pause for a second. Saul, the murderer, Saul, the one who has placed himself in prime time news as being the face of persecution against the Christians? This same man is God's chosen instrument to advance the cause against which he has fought so intensely?

When God has an agenda, who can stand against it? 

Answer: No one. Not you, me, the neighbor down the street, the city mayor, the governor, your Democratic or Republican senators or congressmen or congresswomen, not the president, or the dignitaries, or the ambassadors or the sheiks or the rajas or the emperors or the prime ministers. No. One. Can. Stand. Against. God's. Agenda.

So Ananias says: Okay. 

He heads out the door, makes his way to Straight Street, walks into Judas' house and asks to see Saul. "Placing his hands on Saul, he says, 'Brother Saul --"

I love that. He calls him Brother before the rest of the world even recognizes Saul as Paul the Apostle. Brother Saul, Brother in Christ, my teammate, my family, one of my tribe...

"Brother Saul, the Lord -- Jesus, Who appeared to you on the road as you were coming here -- has sent me so that you may see again and be filled with the Holy Spirit.' Immediately, something like scales fell from Saul's eyes, and he could see again. He got up and was baptized, and after taking some food, he regained his strength."

The irony of Saul's first sight of Jesus is that it blinds him, and it isn't until he admits his utter helplessness and dependence on God that the Lord lets him truly see. God could have healed him as soon as he prayed, but he uses Ananias to pray over him. Why? To commission him. To fill him with the Holy Spirit. To set him on a new path. To begin a different agenda, one that is not his own.

The thing is, the Son is around us and in us continually; He affects us, He guides us, He is over us and through us and in us. But we can't stand in His presence, look directly at Him, and walk away unaffected. If we open our eyes, look at him truly... He blinds us to everything else but Him. 

He becomes our filter, through which we see anything He wants to show us.

If we open our eyes to Him, all we can see is Him. He fills us up, He fills up the borders of our sight, with His glory.

Lord, open our eyes. Let us look past the reflections all around us, and let us look right at Your glory, so all we see... is You, forever and ever.