Earlier this evening, a friend and I were deep in conversation about the usual important things in life -- God, spirituality, work, marriage, careers, etc. -- and my friend suddenly interrupted our discussion to say she just emailed me something that I must see immediately. So I rushed to the computer and downloaded the image that is included here in this blogpost. At first glance, I could not figure out the significance of the photo. I knew she was talking w/ me over the phone while sitting in her car parked at an intersection somewhere in Emeryville, waiting to go buy some pizza for dinner.
"Did you see it? Do you see it in the photo?" she asked.
What was so significant about this particular intersection, I thought. "Nope, don't see it." Am I supposed to see a car or a pizza parlor or...?
It was a 5-second guessing game, and I had no clue what I was supposed to see -- no idea what was already in the picture which my friend saw instantly. And this cluelessness, this blindness, or this searching, was at the heart of our conversation we'd been hashing for the past hour. What is the meaning of what we are doing in life, and where are we headed, and how do we know what we're supposed to do next, and how can we tell what God has in store for us. What is, ultimately, the purpose of our life?
A few months ago, I uprooted my life in the Bay Area and moved to St. Louis. Starting over again has been difficult, especially while I'm still thrashing about in discernment: Did I make the right choice? Should I have quit my job? Will I find a new job here, and will it be something that challenges me and grows me in positive ways? What am I doing in this city, why here of all places? Even now, I can hardly see "it" in the big picture, barely recognize meaning and purpose in the snapshot of life.
"It's right there. I saw it while we were talking and I had to take a picture. It's on the red and green building."
Ah, silly me. No, I didn't see it. Wasn't looking for it and didn't recognize it in the photo, either. But now, now it was fairly obvious.
The poet Rumi said, "Look at your eyes. They are small / but they see enormous things." With her mind's eye focused on our dialogue, my friend saw meaning in a small thing. I with my little eyes didn't see what to her was too obvious to ignore. The image of the cross on the wall of the building created by the shadow of the electricity pole was a fun coincidence, but now I'd like to think of it as more than happenstance. There we were, in the midst of a rather important discussion, while she was parked at the intersection, a crossroads, for passersby who come and go on small little journeys. In a way, our conversation occurred at a time when we both are metaphorically "parked", for different reasons, as we wait to discern which way is the best way to go, which step is the next step to take.
There, of course, countless numbers of electricity poles in the city of Emeryville, and in the state of CA (and throughout the U.S., I know) but it was providential, coincidental, serendipitous that the sun would cast the right shadow in the right place in the instance when we were talking about searching for meaning in life -- through our faith in Christ, who died on the cross for us, the One who showed us the Way.
I suppose to wrap up this blogpost, I'd have to say that this little photo was a gift to me from a dear friend, a reminder that if only we could stop, pause, and look with our eyes, we can see enormous things which, by the grace of the Holy Spirit, are always with us.
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