Of Eyes And Hearts

“I will lift mine eyes up to the hills; from whence shall come my help?”

A while back, I remarked to a friend that someday, I would write about the day grandfather taught me about prayer. Well, today is that day.

The meaning of those poetic words of anguish, written by David, the Psalmist, were explained to me when I was young man, by my beloved grandfather, an extraordinary man. I have written about him once before, and noted the influence he had on my life.

From time to time, he and I would drive to the East End. In what was to become a ritual and preamble to out talks, we made our way to where he grew up. He would laugh and remember the games he played as a young boy- tippit, red rover and johnny on the pony. He would recount his most daring and dashing exploits of his youth, pointing out the landmarks and alleyways that were his youthful domain and Nottingham Forest. His eyes shone with the clarity and fire of the 10 year old gallant knight he was, as he recounted those stories.

After we had walked through the neighborhood that was his childhood kingdom, we headed toward a small local park and sat on a park bench- always the same park bench, and engaged in conversation. For many years I did not know that was the same bench that he and his father shared on many occasions, many years earlier.

One year, on cold autumn day, my grandfather called and asked if I wanted to ‘head east,’ as he would say. I was delighted, of course, because more often than not, I was the one who called him, asking for a few hours. Our time together fortified and grounded me- and he knew it.

We reminisced about our times together, years earlier, and how much the world- and I- had changed. He wasn’t really reflective. Rather, he was expressing his own reality. He recalled the neighborhood ice man, ‘consumption’ and computers and cellphones. He had lived through times of miracles, he said. They really were miracles, he emphasized.

He wanted to talk about miracles.

The miracles he had seen in his life, he said, had robbed people of the ability to pray. He went on to say that he feared that the miracles I will see in my life will rob me of the need to pray.

“I will lift mine eyes up to the hills; from whence shall come my help?” “Why,” my grandfather asked, “did the Psalmist refer to our eyes and not out hearts, as we reached out to God? Surely God wants us to see with our hearts!”

He didn’t wait for an answer.

He went on to say that the Psalmist, in his own time, recognized that in our hubris, mankind had come to believe that we could manage our own destiny. That idea was to blind us and limit our vision. There is a difference between managing our lives, as we are supposed to do, and attempting to do things and to believe that what is in the purview of God. Those things cannot be appropriated by us.

The ‘miracles’ that have become a part of our daily lives are miracles we can see and touch. In fact, there are so many miracles, that we might come to believe that only miracles that we can see and touch are truly valid and real miracles. We forget that sometimes, the miracles can and do extend that which we can see and touch. Those are the miracles of our destinies, that remain within God’s purview.

In every hospital on earth, there are machines that keep and sustain life. That may seem like a miracle, but in fact, more often than not, the real miracle is what is done with that saved life. A life that might have been lost can go on to do great things and influence untold generations. That is the real miracle.

We are meant to ‘Lift up our eyes’ so that we may lift up our hearts. We will see the miracles our times have to offer, but through prayer, we can come to see the richness of miracles God has to offer.

“My help will come from the Lord, Maker of heaven and earth.”

We are reminded that God created those things we can see and touch. Our salvation, help and even inner peace, those things so ethereal and undefinable, are within the purview of God- and those are things we need to pray for.

There are some doctors who believe they can do God’s work. There are other doctors who quietly thank God for the help and miracles He has shared with them. Ask Dr Sanity or Shrinkwrapped to reflect on what it means when they see a patient finally open the door to new possibilities.

It isn’t only obstetricians that witness the miracle of new life.

On that day and on that park bench, a self assured and invincible 20 something learned about prayer and miracles.

My grandfathers mother died of an infection in her late 40’s. She left a husband and 5 children. Antibiotics were readily available within a few years after her death. A number of years later, in that park and seated on that park bench, my grandfather told me of a conversation he had with his father. He asked his father if he were bitter- that a few shillings worth of antibiotics would have saved the love of his life and the mother of his children.

“Oh, no!” was the reply- “I can’t think of that. I won’t think of that. I think of all those that will be saved with this modern miracle!”

That was the day, my grandfather told me, that he saw his father for the man he was, for the very first time. “It was a miracle,” my grandfather said. “The prayers- my prayers-  for my father worked.”

I would give all my worldly possessions to polish just one more pair of shoes with that man.