Do you ever wonder why some things are invisible to us? I can walk down a street and look right through people. Not until they say my name do I actually see them.
Or a child can stand in front of the refrigerator and ask, "Where's the salsa?" And we have to hand it to him—when it was right in front of his nose the whole time.
I also miss hearing things. I tell my husband, "You didn't tell me!"
He replies, "Oh, but I did."
It's an irony, I suppose, but even the sighted and hearing can be blind and deaf.
This irony runs deeply through the pages of Scripture. I recently stumbled on a passage that framed this all too well: "Hear, you deaf; look, you blind, and see! … You have seen many things, but have paid no attention; your ears are open, but you hear nothing" (Isaiah 42:18, 20, italics added).
Awake to God
God puts a premium on the simple disciplines of seeing and hearing. These two qualities—a seeing eye, a hearing ear—represent a heart awake to God.
Moses learned to pay attention and so heard from God. One day while herding sheep in the wilderness of Midian, he . It seemed to be on fire, but it wasn't burning up. The desert is a strange place—the shimmering heat, light, solitude—it can all play tricks on you. Mirages happen. Moses could have thought, Why bother? It's just a trick of the eye. But Moses turned his mind from the sheep and said, "I will go over and see this strange sight—why the bush does not burn up" (Exodus 3:3).