Eye Contact

So, by God’s wonderful grace and faithfulness, we made it to Stutterheim! We found a beautiful home, completed the move with the help of wonderful friends, were welcomed to our new town with warm meals from locals, and in a few short minutes, we will have our first Sunday service in our living room. 

There is only one problem… well, no, there are a few problems. Renée is still running around in her pajamas, trying to comb Rebekah’s hair. Rebekah is really upset because the little information sheet that came with her recent Coco Cone gift is missing. Judging by his clothes, Noah appears to be eating oats with his elbows, and I have to admit, I have no idea where Annah is at this point. And then I see it — THE FIRST CAR AT OUR GATE!

I still wanted to pray for 30 minutes, read my Bible for another two hours, and trim my moustache. But no — there will be no time for that. Church is about to start.

In this beautiful flurry, Renée grabs my arms and yanks me closer for a kiss. Wildly inefficient at that moment. I can feel my muscles tighten in resistance to this external force as I almost involuntarily aim for her lips, with my mind already out the door.

“STOP.”

“Wait.”

“Look at me.”

“Look me in the eyes.”

Realising Renée is actually speaking to me, my mind returns from where it was mentally trying to open the gate and re-enters the room. I turn to look at Renée.

“May He come this morning,” she says as she kisses me.

I looked at her. In the eyes. And one of those moments happened — the children’s crying was muted (albeit for only a second), the chaos of the morning’s deferred desires seemed distant, and a well of love and hope sprung up from within me. My teammate was on my side. This morning’s upended agenda cannot stand against us.

It is a silly little example, but I do believe it speaks to a great truth: a kiss means nothing without eye contact first.

In the same way that we are teaching Noah to look the Oom in the eyes when he reaches out to greet him, or when saying thank you, or when talking to me — eye contact matters.

I believe the reason is surrender. By making eye contact, you have to turn your gaze from what you were doing to the person vying for your attention. You stop what you are doing (if you are doing this correctly), and look — behold, if you like.

Hah… surrender and beholding.

This morning I felt so convicted during prayer. I felt like the Lord said, “You are not making eye contact.”

Sure, I was in the room by myself, the door was mostly closed — by all accounts, the secret place of a dad with young kids. I was praying, sincerely, but with my “eyes” on the day’s agenda, wandering from one thing to the next. I did not surrender to the moment with the Lord.

So I repented, lay on my carpet, and stared at the ceiling with my eyes wide open. Surrender. Inefficient. Taking a moment with my King, my Bridegroom, my God.

See, our gaze is important. What we behold, we become.

“But we all, with unveiled face, beholding as in a mirror the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from glory to glory, just as by the Spirit of the Lord.”

— 2 Corinthians 3:18

Let’s take a moment. Let’s surrender during the day, at random points. Take a breath. Look in the mirror. Behold the Lord’s glory.

Look Him in the eyes — the Man who has fire in His eyes. See how they burn.

Oh, how He loves us.

Let us listen to John the Baptist’s charge: “Behold, the Lamb of God!”