My mom finds God in sunsets, and I see him in language.
In rich sentences strung together. In beautiful phrases. In words that make you want to crack them open– dig beneath the surface– to see if something unexpected might be waiting for you.
My friend Jane Johnson taught me this. Nearly a decade ago, I heard her speak for the first time from a stage, and I remember thinking, “I want that. I want what she has.”
It wasn’t in a jealous way. She simply had this thick, palpable passion for the Word of God. She spoke about God like they had secret handshakes and miles of history marked by prayer journals and hidden places.
Over the days to come, Jane taught me how to study the Bible for the first time. I remember feeling like something had been missing my whole life, and suddenly, I was holding this essential piece. She gave me the tools to crack words and phrases open—in Hebrew and Greek. She taught me to follow cross-references around the Bible like a string game in a cat’s cradle. And my life and my faith have never been the same since.
Just the other day, I was preparing a message on Hebrews 11 and 12 when I came across this line I’ve read countless times before in Hebrews 12:
1 Wherefore seeing we also are compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us, and let us run with patience the race that is set before us,
2 Looking unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith; who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is set down at the right hand of the throne of God.
But as I dug deeper into this verse– word by word– I caught a glimmer of something I’d never noticed before.
The phrase “looking unto” is a verb in Greek, “aphorao.” This is not the phrase for someone taking a picture and saying, “Look at me.” That’s not what the author is prompting us with here.
We don’t have a phrase like this in the English language. The closest we might get to it is the word “fix, ” meaning “to fix your eyes onto something.”
But this is something different. Something more tender and intimate.
Look at the literal definition of Aphorao from the Blue Letter Bible:
“To turn the eyes away from other things and fix them on something.”
This phrase is not about simply looking to Jesus. It is about actively removing one’s eyes from other things and fixing them back on Jesus.
Off of the status.
Off of the anxiety.
Off of the striving.
Off of the numbers.
Off of the distractions.
I can’t help but smile over this detail. It’s almost like God knew that we’d drift. That we’d look away. We’d be distracted by other things- other gods- other golden-glinted spectacles. And so he encapsulated our distractedness into a phrase that gently tells the hearer: Aphorao, as in:
“Hey- I know there are other things, and I know you’re tempted to keep your eyes on them because it makes you feel like you have more control, but the peace won’t come with your eyes in that direction.
Turn your eyes away from those other things and fix them back onto me. Keep looking at me. I promise it’s better.
When it feels heavy, bring your focus back to me.
When it feels impossible, fix your eyes back on me.
When you don’t know the next step, turn your gaze back to me.
I’m right here. I haven’t left. You’ve been distracted, but my focus has only ever been on you and how much I want to lovingly guide you into what’s coming next. I want to be with you each step. I want to stand with you in each fire. I’m not going anywhere. My presence is constant and overwhelming– it goes before you, follows behind you, and covers you like an oversized sweater.
Don’t be afraid. I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here. Peace comes from looking in my direction.
Take your eyes off that thing and fix them back onto me. I don’t care if you have to do this one, ten, or 52 times today. I welcome all the shifts because I welcome you. And I love you. And I want you to run from that place.”
p.s.
When God gives you an idea.
For the tired mama who is missing her quiet time.
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