My Father's Eyes

I was walking the other evening and was struck by the amazing sunset. The mountain to the west was in stark silhouette against the setting sun. Behind and above were swirling clouds of red and orange and yellow floating in a blue sky. Truly spectacular. I thought, "I wish I could catch that with the camera." But I couldn't. You know how it goes. You take the picture and it's okay, but it doesn't really compare to the real thing. The camera doesn't really capture what the eye sees.

On my way to work the other morning it was a similar thing. It was dark and the moon was just rising above the eastern horizon. One of those "fingernail of God" moons, you know? I was thinking, "How could I capture that on film?" Because I knew I couldn't. Someone could, I guess, but the settings and the timing and the equipment and the f-stop and aperture and lens and ... well, it was all too complicated for me to think about. But I noticed that my eyes weren't having any problem with it. The street lights weren't blocking out the moonlight. Despite various city lights around, I could pick out stars on this clear morning. Any motion would have been terminal for such a photograph, but my eyes kept everything in focus at 60 miles per hour on the freeway. Amazing.

I've been known in the past to indulge in a video game or two, but one genre I've never liked is the first-person type. For those who may not know, it's the one where the screen shows what you would be looking at if you were actually there. I've never liked them because, frankly, they don't work. You see, when I walk around I have nearly 180° of vision, but on the screen you have maybe 5°. Something coming at me from the side is impossible to see, where my eyes in life would pick it up. I once asked an optics guy about this. I mean, the eye and the modern digital camera are basically the same, aren't they? No. The eye is better by vast margins. We still can't get anywhere near it with our technology.

When I was in high school one summer I had an injury that kept me from swimming with the other kids at camp. So I was sitting out on the grass looking at a hillside across from me. I sat there and counted 64 different shades of green before I finally gave up. According to The Physics Factbook, the human eye can distinguish between 10 million colors. Incredible when I can't tell you the difference between mauve and dusty rose ... but I can see it.

All of this sounds random, I know, but it's not. I'm talking about the eyes my Father designed for humans. They illustrate His incredible design. They speak of His wondrous care for us. They declare His creativity and genius and glory. What's really cool, though, is as I viewed the visual splendor and mused over the amazing eye, I was able to think, "I know the architect!"

I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are Your works, and my soul knows it very well (Psa 139:14).