SIGHT UNSEEN
PERCEIVING THE NONMATERIAL
So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. – 2 Corinthians 4:8, NIV
We rely heavily on our eyes to observe and understand the world around us—so much so that we have made see synonymous with understand. For example, we might say “That’s not how I see it!” or “Don’t you see…?” Yet seeing with the eyes is not the only way to know reality; in fact, much can be “seen” best without eyes!
“How do scientists know that the earth’s core has a liquid layer?” “How did they measure the mass of Jupiter?” “How do we know that DNA controls heredity?” These questions might come from a sassy teenager in science class, but they are at the heart of an important query…how do we know what we know? This is so important in fact that it is its own branch of philosophy, known as “epistemology.”
What We Cannot See
One reason we don’t understand some realities is because they are too vast. As the saying goes, we “can’t see the forest for the trees.” We are in the front row of a huge movie theatre, and we can’t back up far enough to get the full screen in view. By contrast, “From heaven the Lord looks down and sees all mankind; from his dwelling place he watches all who live on earth—“ (Psalm 33:13, NIV). This is remarkable especially considering that we live on a spherical surface! This vastness includes complexity (ideas and concepts that are too sophisticated to consider without breaking them down), the passage of time (our memories are limited in “seeing” what has transpired as a whole), and physical size itself. We are limited in both depth and breadth of vision. And if we could see all time, space, and matter simultaneously, what could our minds even comprehend of that?
Other realities are too minute to understand. Though scientists have effectively modeled atoms, they are still never observed directly. Ironically, one thing that is well-defined about atoms is our limitation in observing them, a limitation that Heisenberg defined with clarity. Atomic behavior, to be explained within our models, requires a barrage of 
imagined yet-smaller particles, with strange names such as “quarks,” “muons,” “tauons,” “mesons,” “bosons,” and yes, even ones that are actually called “strange.” In fact, to really understand the full scope of vastness, one would have to see both vast and miniscule together—to physically and intellectually comprehend in mega-high resolution. But instead of such synthesis, we are restricted to analysis. When we further consider ongoing, rapid, small-scale biological processes, we realize that at any scale, we simply do not see it all.
In addition to the scope and scale of things, we also lack understanding because much is hidden. What color is a blue chair in the dark? Is it still a blue chair at all? To see a thing, it must be enlightened, or we might say further that we must be enlightened. This is true not only of matter, but of the nonmaterial. We, by nature, can easily hide our thoughts and feelings. God does the same, out of our necessity and limitation. “For who among men knows the thoughts of a man except the man’s spirit within him? In the same way no-one knows the thoughts of God except the Spirit of God” (1 Corinthians 2:11, NIV). There exist nonmaterial truths that some do not grasp, “whose minds the god of this age [Satan] has blinded, who do not believe, lest the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God, should shine on them” (2 Corinthians 4:4). And yet, interestingly, God instead finds a right purpose in selectively concealing truth: “At that time Jesus answered and said, ‘I thank You, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, that You have hidden these things from the wise and prudent and have revealed them to babes. Even so, Father, for so it seemed good in Your sight.’” (Matthew 11:25-26). Indeed, God even finds occasion to hide Himself (Hosea 5:6, Isaiah 45:15).
Perhaps in a broader sense, our limitations in knowing and understanding come from our limitation in experience. We have a brief amount of earthly time, both chronos (linear passage of time) and kairos (opportunity). Even our physical seeing requires experience. Consider Jesus’ remarkable healing of the man born blind (Mark 8:22-25). Initially, Jesus healed his physical sight, yet lacking experience to interpret his vision, the man declared that persons looked “like trees walking around.” Again, rather than this being a faulty healing, I suspect that it was a complete physical healing, and that the man’s true sight (optic nerve processing and neural connections, and more importantly, interpretation) would have eventually improved or even become complete. Yet Jesus proceeded to touch the man’s eyes once again, and “he was restored and saw everyone clearly.” The miracle’s part two was as miraculous as part one, if not more so; it effectively accelerated the man’s experience in seeing.
What We Will Not See
Of course, seeing goes beyond physical mechanics or even experiential, mental, and intellectual capacity. Seeing is an act of the will. We look beyond the faults of those we love and admire. We follow the cues of a clever magician, and do not see his sleight of hand. We will not see what we do not expect to, nor what we do not want to. And along with this, we will often see what we expect to and want to. Consider the prevailing “eyeglasses” of many intellectuals: We behold in the living creation clear discontinuities among the created kinds, with humankind superior not by degree, but by distinction. Yet the high priests of academia see a common ancestry for all, and imagine links that do not exist, or sophisticated historical schemes in buried fossils and rock layers.
Many do not see God. By this I do not mean to directly behold God in His glory, for as Moses was told “no man shall see Me, and live” (Exodus 33:20). I mean that many do not see the very idea of God—that a transcendent One exists. This is truly remarkable, and explicable only in one way: that they do in fact see God, but actively “became vain in their imaginations…” (Romans 1:21, KJV) and “suppress the truth in unrighteousness” (1:18). Rebellion makes a people blind (see Ezekiel 12:2).
We can suppress the truth about ourselves as well: our mistakes, shortcomings, and offenses. Consider how Nathan had to trick David with a story (2 Samuel 12) to get him to see his acts of adultery and murder. Only after drawing David into his allegory could he declare “you are the man!” (v. 7). David, masterfully trapped by his own words concerning this horrible man (who represented himself), could suddenly see the obvious.
What We Can See
In spite of all these limitations, both natural and self-imposed, there is much we can see. Psalm 94:9 reminds us that God created the seeing eye and the hearing ear. Humans are created in the image of God, which includes great facility and perception of both material and nonmaterial realities. We recognize tension in a room, a voice on the phone, and have remarkable adaptability in our experiential learning. Even with academic learning aside, we know much more than we could ever articulate!
Spiritually, we are given great access to truth: “And you shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free” (John 8:32), “But when he, the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all truth…” (John 16:13). First Corinthians 12:9 reminds us that God’s Spirit reveals to us that which our natural faculties cannot perceive. In fact, the irony is that perhaps we see best when we recognize our limitations and allow God to illuminate matters, rather than to cast our own dim light upon them. If we look again at the previously mentioned portion of Matthew 11, we see that what is hidden to the wise and prudent (which is to say, the proud and self-sufficient), is revealed to “babes” (the humble and dependent).
A key to such perception is prayer. Paul understood this when he prayed that Ephesian believers would comprehend the greatness of God’s love (Ephesians 3:14-19). And again in Colossians 1:9-10, Paul prays with his fellow workers that believers “may be filled with the knowledge of His will in all wisdom and spiritual understanding… increasing in the knowledge of God.”
A remarkable account of prayer for perception—and for blindness as well—comes to us in 2 Kings 6:8-23. Elisha’s servant was intimidated by the military depth of the Syrian army surrounding Dothan. So Elisha prayed three times: firstly that the Lord would open his servant’s eyes to the surrounding spiritual army—“the mountain full of horses and chariots of fire” (v. 17). Secondly, Elisha prayed for the Syrians to be struck with blindness, that that he might deceive them and lead them out into Samaria in search of him. And thirdly, that they would again see their captors and participate in what turned out to be a remarkably gracious and diplomatically effective captivity feast. Thus prayer for perception, both of the material and nonmaterial, played out importantly.
What We Will See
As an extension of what we can potentially see now, we must consider how our perception will be transformed in the resurrection life to come. Paul compares our present vision to seeing “in a mirror, dimly”, and our future vision to the clarity of how God now sees us: face-to-face, perfectly (1 Corinthians 13:12). The mirror is an interesting picture, as it suggests that our perception is less than objective, but strongly influenced by how we see ourselves.
As such, the transformation of our vision will result from our very own transformation, effected by seeing the ultimate reference for reality and truth: Christ Himself: “Beloved, now we are children of God; and it has not yet been revealed what we shall be, but we know that when He is revealed, we shall be like Him, for we shall see Him as He is” (1 John 3:2). Although the beatitude “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall God” (Matthew 5:8) has a degree of fulfillment on this side of heaven, the fullness of this promise yet waits.
What we cannot see should prod us toward humility, and a desire to understand what we can and ought. And in particular, it should motivate us to willfully pursue and perceive the “substance” and “evidence” (see Hebrews 11:1) of the greater realities, realized through faith: the unseen things. As our opening verse states profoundly, much of what is obvious will pass away in time. The weightier matters, paradoxically, are the nonmaterial, unconfined to this physical world. Our Bibles, and the ink on their pages, will someday be annihilated, but not what is revealed through them: “The grass withers, the flower fades, but the word of our God stands forever” (Isaiah 40:8).
[The following table compares selected biblical vocabulary concerning this month's essay]
© 2009 Chard Berndt.
All Scriptures NKJV unless indicated otherwise.
October essay up
Hello blog readers! My new essay, “Sight Unseen,” is now up. Hope you find it informational, inspirational, and enjoyable (or I suppose any one of those will do!). Don’t be shy about posting a comment.
Happy autumn,
Chard
In the works for October
Epistemology is the study of how we know what we know. We rely heavily on sight for our perception of the world, yet God charges us to “fix our eyes on the things that are unseen”. In “Sight Unseen” I’ll be exploring the concepts of perspective and perception. Looking at such limitations wrongly might play into the hand of today’s pluralists (who say that truth can’t be known, and that truth-claims are simply personal preferences). But I think we’ll find that there is more to this than meets the eye.
Give me another week or two and the October post will be up.