It was a very crowded bus, and the passengers looked sympathetically as Susan made her way down the aisle. She fumbled with her cane, and as she nestled herself into her seat, the onlookers just watched with questions and concern. It had been only a year since Susan lost her sight.
Her world had crumbled, her sadness overtook her. The blindness was accompanied by depression. Not only was her heart crushed, but so was the heart of her husband, Mark. He so loved his wife and wanted to help her, and so he did. Inch by inch, he helped to pull her out of that pit of depression, helped give her skills and confidence, and to regain her sense of self. And that husband, so in love with his wife, did all that he could to help her in her new state of darkness.
After many months, she began to feel more confident because of Mark’s help, and she felt like she could return to her job again. And Mark promised that he would help her, of course, with that also. So every day, Mark would drive his wife to work, walk her into the office, make sure she was settled, and then leave and go to his base that was across town, because Mark was a military officer. Then, he would come back and get her from work. This went on for several weeks. And with every day, though Mark so wanted to help his wife, the burden was becoming heavier because it was becoming logistically impossible for him to make it to his base on time.
He dreaded having to announce to Susan that he wasn’t going to be able to drive her to work. But in the end, he had to. “I can’t ride the bus to work,” she replied. “I’m blind. How am I going to know how many stairs there are? How am I going to know what path to take? I feel like you are abandoning me.”
Mark’s heart was crushed. He promised her, like he had done from the very beginning, he would do whatever it took to help her until she felt confident and independent on the bus. He helped her with the routes. He helped her learn the stairs and learn the paths. And so, finally, after several weeks of doing such, Susan was confident. He went to his base; she went to her work.
Monday morning, she got on the bus. She went to work, she came home; it was flawless. Then Friday morning arrived. Susan made her way onto the bus, and as she went to pay her fare, the bus driver said, “Ma’am you sure are lucky.” Susan said, “Are you talking to me?” The bus driver said, “Yeah. It must feel good to be cared for as you are.” Susan replied, “I don’t know what you mean, sir.”
The bus driver said: “Well, you know, every morning when I drop you off at your stop, as soon as those doors open, I can see that man standing over there at the corner. And he watches you. As soon as you step off the bus, his eyes are on you. I think he’s some kind of military officer because of his uniform. And his eyes follow you as you walk across that parking lot. And his eyes don’t leave you as you’re trying to walk up those stairs. And when your hand touches that door knob, his eyes are on you. Until you open that door and go inside, that man doesn’t take his eyes off you. And once that door closes, he stands straight and tall, like a sentinel, and he salutes you, and then he blows you a kiss.”
Susan burst into tears. She had no idea that her husband had been watching her the whole time. But the lover of her soul never took his eyes off of her.
We cannot take our eyes off of what we love. Love creates an energy of devotion that holds our gaze into lasting moments of adoration and affection. The defining motivation of worship, too, is loving Christ. And the more of Him we behold as the Lamb, who takes away our failures and mistakes and brokenness and sin, the more of us He will captivate to love Him in return.
To behold Christ is to stare, to gaze unhindered and unhurried, to linger, taking in His excellency, beauty, truth, and majesty. When you see something as true and beautiful and valuable, you can’t look away. You treasure Him. You cherish Him.
The renewal of our love for Christ will come as we dive into the depths of His love for us.