Seeing The Christ

Genesis 16.7-13; 21.8-19; Mark 8.22-30
5.7.06 Dellview Baptist Church San Antonio

Seeing The Christ

Today’s message has eluded me and taken a very different route than what I had anticipated several weeks ago in my initial preparation of it. Initially, I had thought about speaking of how both our physical and spiritual sight is limited? I wanted to talk about how we are all only temporary able to physically see what we see; that our physical sight, if we live long enough, will eventually fail us.

I also wanted to talk about how our spiritual sight can be out of focus. In the process of developing the message, however, four questions about spiritual sight came to my mind and that is what I feel led to pursue with you this morning.

How does God see me?

In our OT reading this morning we observed how Hagar, Abram and Sari’s Egyptian maidservant, was given to Abram by Sari in order to conceive a child; that happened and Sari grew jealous and bitter and began to mistreat Hagar, so Hagar fled away (probably out of fear for her life.)

The Angel of The Lord (the pre-incarnate Christ?) finds the lonely, fearful, and grieved Hagar and addresses her. Hagar pours out her heart about all that had happened.

Then Hagar, after hearing from God in her most desperate moment, utters one of may favourite confessions of God in all of Scripture:

“You are the God who sees me.”

Have you ever been at this point in your life? Are you there now, wondering if God really sees you and knows all that your up against?

A great comfort that we have from God is that he does know us? He knows our shortcomings, he knows our fears, and he knows all that we’re up against. He knows us and he sees us. He loves us and longs to be with and in us.

You just might be at spot in life today where you need to know that God does indeed see you and all that your up against.

How Do I see others?

Hagar’s story continues, Genesis 21.8-19, as she is sent away once again by a jealous and bitter Sarah.

Whenever Sarah looked at Hagar she did not see an equal, fellow woman, or mother of Abraham’s son Ishmael; rather, whenever Sarah looked at Hagar her blood boiled and she saw her own inadequacies and curses, and not a child of God.

Sarah did not see God in Hagar. What about us, how do we see others?

What do we see when we view those around us in this church and our daily lives? What about when we consider our enemies? What do we see in the least of these and special needs among us? What do we see when we view an illegal alien among us in San Antonio, TX? How do we view our culture’s elderly?

The following poem, in handwritten form, is said to have been collected among the belongings of a woman who had died in a skilled nursing facility in Scotland. (included in a Clifford Schutjer sermon)

"What do you see, nurse, what do you see?
What are you thinking when you look at me:
A crabby old woman, diminished in size,
Uncertain of habit with far-away eyes?
Who dribbles her tea and makes no reply
When you say in a loud voice, “I do wish you’d try.”
Who seems not to notice the things that you do
And forever is losing a stocking or shoe,
Who, resisting or not, lets you do as you will
With bathing and feeding, the long day to fill.
Is that your impression, is that what you see?
Then open your eyes. You’re not looking at me.


There’s a person before you, alive in here still,
With opinions and memories, spirit and will.

I’m a small child of ten with a father, a mother,
Brothers and sisters who love one another.
Then a girl of sixteen with wings on her feet,
Dreaming that soon a true love she will meet;
A bride then at twenty--my heart gives a leap:
The wedding--the vows that we promised to keep.
At twenty-five now I have kids of my own
Who need me to build a secure, happy home;
A woman of thirty, my young grow so fast,
Linked to each other with ties that will last.
At forty my young sons have grown and are gone.
My husband’s beside me to see I don’t mourn.
At fifty once more babies play round my knee.
Again we know children, my husband and me.
Then that very dark valley: my husband is dead.
The future without him is something I dread.
For my young are all rearing young of their own.
Yet I treasure the love and the joys I have known

I’m an old woman now and nature is cruel.
It’s her joke to make old age appear as a fool.

The body is crumbled. Grace and vigor depart.
It feels like a cold stone has replaced my heart.
But inside this old carcass, a young girl still dwells.
And now and again my battered heart swells.
I remember the years, including the pain.
And I’m loving and living life over again.
I think of the years, all too few, gone too fast
I’ve accepted the stark fact that nothing can last.

Please open your eyes, nurse. Just try once to see
Not a crabby old women. There’s really a ME!"

What do we see when we look at Jesus?

In Mark 8.22-30, Mark records the story of Jesus spiting into a blind man’s eyes and restored his sight. I find the following account of Peter’s confession of Jesus as the Christ very gripping because of its location after Jesus healing the Blind man.

Jesus asked his disciples, “Who do people say that I am?” He could have very well asked his disciples, “What do people see when they look (consider) at me?” They replied to his question, “Some say [see] John the Baptist; others say [see] Elijah, and still others, [see] one of the prophets.”

Jesus then asked the disciples, “But what about you . . . Who do you say [see that] I am?” In other words Jesus could have very well asked, “What do you see when you look at me?”

Peter then confessed, “You are the Christ.” Peter could have said, “When I look at you Jesus, I see the Christ!”

What about people today? What about us gathered here this morning? When you look at Jesus, when you consider who Jesus is, what do you see?

Do you see the Christ? Do you see God? Do you see God’s great love for you? Do you see multitudes of suffering and dying? Do you see the least of these? Because these things are what Jesus looks like.

When we see Jesus, when we see the Christ clearly, we will see God’s great love for us and we will see the multitudes of suffering in our world and we will see the least of those among us and in this world; that’s what seeing the Christ is.

Mother Teresa confessed:

“O Jesus- You who suffer, grant that, today and every day, I may be able to see you in the person of your sick ones and that, by offering them my care, I may serve you.

Grant that, even if you are hidden under unattractive disguise of anger, crime, or of madness, I may recognize you and say, “Jesus, you who suffer, how sweet it is to serve you.”

Give me, Lord, this vision of faith, and my work will never be monotonous, I will find joy in harbouring whims and desire of all the poor who suffer . . .”

How can we begin to focus our vision to see the Christ in others and ourselves?

Seeing the Christ in others, among the least of these in our world, in the hurricane evacuee, the homebound aged and nursing home resident, the wondering human far away from home or the illegal alien, requires that we first admit the limited and distorted way we view the people in this world that we live in.

We then must give our eyes (perception) to Christ.

We need spiritual illumination. The Spirit of God only gives spiritual illumination. Scripture, earnest prayer, and the fellowship of God’s people are ways that the Holy Spirit can enable our sight to see the Christ in others and our lives.

Just last week John Garcia and I went to the Rio Grande Valley to spend time with Bertha Whyte (His Hand’s Ministry). Bertha’s penetrating 91 year-old eyes captivated me.

Bertha said that someone once remarked that looking into her Jesus eyes was like seeing the eyes of Jesus. What a marvellous testimony and prayer that would make for all who confess his name.

"Be Thou my Vision, O Lord of my heart;
Naught be all else to me, save that Thou art
Thou my best Thought, by day or by night,
Waking or sleeping, Thy presence my light." Amen.