The Whites of Our Eyes

A Devotional in Free Verse

In the dawn of June 17, 1775, Colonel William Prescott and the 1200 colonial soldiers under his command braced themselves as the British Army advanced on their fortified position at Bunker Hill. With life and death hanging in the balance, knowing they could not afford to miss, Prescott gave this order: “Don’t fire until you see the whites of their eyes.”

Perhaps our mistake is that we have fired before we could look into the eyes of those around us. We hide behind the glow of our computer screens and tweet and snap without having to look into the eyes of the enemy.

We yell and curse at a distance because it is safe. So far away, I can’t see the whites of your eyes. I only see the color of your skin.

Like the disciples, the temptation is there to call down fire from heaven. I like that. I can do that from a distance. I don’t have to look in your eyes.

But here’s the problem. Our God is not distant. He is Emmanuel, “God with us.” John 1 tells us, “…the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we beheld His glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth.”

Grace and truth. That only happens up close. Grace can only be released when He can see the whites of our eyes. The hand upon the leper. The same hand later nailed to the cross. For me. So that I would no longer be far from God. But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far away have been brought near by the blood of Christ, Paul writes.

Grace and truth. Up close and personal. That’s how I was forgiven. And that’s how I must forgive. Colossians 3 tells us, “Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you.

I was reconciled to God because Jesus moved in close. He saw the whites of my eyes and poured out his grace and truth. And as his child, I must do the same.

Fear has kept me at a distance. Grace and love call me to move in close, just as Christ did for me.

So, I take a step toward you. Fearfully now, not knowing what to expect, I draw closer. Looking now at the whites of your eyes, I see something I had not expected. Behind those eyes are a lifetime of fears, hopes, and dreams. The pain of loss, and the courage to continue. The all too familiar tension between the comfort of where I am and the courage to become something more.

I see the whites of your eyes, but I no longer want to fire, because I realize now, you were never my enemy after all.

Into whose eyes do you need to look before you fire today?