Be Seen

A Reflection on the Gospel for June 21st, 2020:
Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary Time

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Matthew
10.26-33

Jesus said to his Apostles: “Fear no one; for nothing is covered up that will not be uncovered, and nothing secret that will not become known. What I say to you in the dark, tell in the light; and what you hear whispered, proclaim from the housetops.

“Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul; rather fear him who can destroy both soul and body in hell. Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. And even the hairs of your head are all counted. So do not be afraid; you are of more value than many sparrows.

“Everyone therefore who acknowledges me before humans, I also will acknowledge before my Father in heaven; but whoever denies me before humans, I also will deny before my Father in heaven.”
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Pause. Pray.

And then read more...

How do you feel about being seen? Like, really seen? You wouldn’t be alone if you confess that it makes you squirm a little.


Adam covered himself (Genesis 3:7). Peter covered himself (John 21:7). Before I ugly cry, I cover myself. I recently heard someone say that God put tear ducts in our eyes so that our pain may be seen by another. We are meant to see and be seen.


When we are before our Lord, covering up is not simply an act of respect or decency. Withholding our pain from Him, and from others, is not martyrdom. It is an act of hiddenness—perhaps even mistrust, uncertainty, insecurity. All of creation, excepting humanity, glorifies God by its very being. Would the birds of the air cover themselves before Him? The fish of the sea? Any living thing that breathes? They wouldn’t because they can’t help but serve their Creator by operating out of their chosen design. They have nothing to hide. We, though, are the fallen.


I have found this season to be a time of uncovering. I love Jesus—there’s no denying that. But over the course of the last few months, I have found myself wrestling with aspects of my faith. On one particular day, I was so dispirited by my circumstances, I threw on my running shoes, and though it was cold and the rain poured down, I hit the road. I ran hard and fast (for an out-of-shape middle-ager who has no business running in the first place). I ran until I had to stop to breathe—and then, I cried. I didn’t simply cry tears, I cried out to God. I shook my fists at Him. I told Him in no uncertain terms that I was feeling so lost, I was on the edge of faithlessness. And then, I listened. And as I listened, I heard… nothing. Furious at His unresponsiveness, I continued running back to my house—sad, soaked, and cynical. I was able to sleep that night, though, and I soon experienced an overwhelming peace—even joy. I had finally uncovered my heart, and Jesus responded through grace upon grace from that day forward.


Could it be purity of soul, then, that He is calling me to, here? He designed my being—mind, body, and soul—to glorify Him. I cannot do this in deceit; under cover. I cannot glorify Him if my relationship with Him is severed through my own inauthenticity.


Pouring out my heart, my honest-to-goodness heart to God, emptied me of more of my hidden layers; my secret self. And as I poured myself out to Him, all that remained was an empty vessel. This vessel of emptiness, of openness, is His intended design for us so that we may be positioned to receive Him. Because it is only in receiving Him that we can be fully integrated into our intended state of purity.


Be seen, my friends. Be pure.




Lori MacDonald

Photo by Priscilla Du Preez on Unsplash

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