Would You Rather

Years ago, I was playing a game of “would you rather” with a friend. It goes like this- Would you rather…live in California or New York? Would you rather…have a dog or a cat? And so on. 

My friend asked the question, “If you were forced to choose, would you rather lose your hearing or your sight?” I had to pause for a while, unsure of my answer (obviously, I would not choose either one, but for the sake of the game, I thought about it). I finally concluded that, if I had to choose, I would rather lose my hearing. I would only have the memory of music and voices, but I could still see the faces of the ones I love. 

My friend responded that he would rather lose his sight. His reasoning was that so much sin is rooted in our sight- covetousness, gluttony, lust, jealousy, idolatry, greed, vanity, pride…Even without sight, our flesh could still desire these sins, but without sight, they may be easier to overcome in some ways. 

Our heart follows our gaze, doesn’t it? 

Are we gazing at earth or are we fixed on heaven? 

I have these two friends. Both carry heavy loads. They endure the back-breaking burden of a family member who is completely dependent on them and who is mentally and emotionally stunted. One family member had a brain injury. One child has a rare disease. 

If given the option of would you rather…they would likely choose a different path. 

It’s love that carries them. Even when my friends are poured out, disgusted, angry, devastated, and exhausted, it is an other-worldly love that drives these friends of mine. 

They are captive in a life of service they did not choose. There was no “would you rather…” option. They are living out vows and responsibilities they never dreamed would come to pass. 

And yet, faithfully, day by day, they serve those who are largely unaware of the sacrifices, of the choice to love them, of the daily dying to self that is invisible to the world— the days of dirty diapers, angry words, tantrums, the death of dreams, and just plain hurt. 

When the present circumstances feel cruel and ugly, sometimes only then do we look longingly at the beauty of Jesus. We cannot be people of faith if we look only to what we can see. We must stay our gaze on what is eternal. 

“Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see” Hebrews 11:1. 

My two friends try to walk by faith, not by sight, because the reality they see can quickly disappoint.

It is not glamorous. There is no red carpet for caregivers- no award for the one who gives her life away in secret, in the wee hours, when she feels alone and spent and hunched low from the weight. When the evil one hisses in her ear, “Just give up, just run away. This is too much for you to handle. God doesn’t love you. He is mocking you.”

I don’t know if my friends ask God why. I have not asked God why about my own suffering, but I do on their behalf. In the quiet of my room when I lie down at night, I watch my fan blades slice the dark air and I utter the words with hot tears, “Why, God?” 

My friend Rachel posted this quote from Elisabeth Elliot last week after her death, and it reminds me why:

"Our vision is so limited we can hardly imagine a love that does not show itself in protection from suffering. The love of God is of a different nature altogether. It does not hate tragedy. It never denies reality. It stands in the very teeth of suffering. The love of God did not protect His own Son. The cross was the proof of His love – that He gave that Son, that He let Him go to Calvary’s cross, though ‘legions of angels’ might have rescued Him. He will not necessarily protect us - not from anything it takes to make us like His Son. A lot of hammering and chiseling and purifying by fire will have to go into the process.”

Perhaps the better question for the believer is— would you rather… have sight or have vision?

Our vision is so limited. So very limited, friends. 

Without Jesus, our sight doesn’t get past our clothing, our families, our cars, our houses, our suffering, our very own reflections. We miss the forest for the trees in our nearsighted chase for earthly comfort and our own glory. We are like greyhounds chasing the fake rabbit around the track, all the while forgetting that we are running a race. We become enslaved to our sight. 

We can’t understand a love that is not opposed to tragedy, so we see God as an American genie of health, wealth, and the pursuit of happiness. We forget that He loves us so much that He will do what He must to fix our gaze on Him. He is relentless in His pursuit of us. Our happiness was never his aim, only our eternal joy in Him.  

My friends know that God is no stranger to tragedies- the Bible is full of them! They know that crippled things, broken things, hurting things make the best canvases for Him to paint His glory. We must be emptied of ourselves and available to be filled with Him. 

Sometimes God does not give us the choice of “would you rather…” oftentimes, He just gives it. And the question becomes, “Would you rather face this with God’s help by faith OR would you rather face it alone without hope?”

This is really a thank you letter to my friends for being faithful to the tasks before them— for just doing the next thing,as Elisabeth Elliot called it, especially when that next thing is only seen by God. 

I know you do not do it perfectly, but thank you for not stunting your gaze on the things of this world. Thank you for the vision to choose eternal hope in the midst of despair. 

Thank you for pointing me to Jesus and helping me to see a faint trace of His scars on your palms. One day the thorns on your brow will rot away and you will don heavy crowns of untarnished jeweled gold. With newfound strength and eternal joy, you will lift them up and set them down at His feet. 

Would I rather have sight or have vision? 

With my heart I have envisioned what my eyes could never see: His imperishable glory shining through your broken vessel of a soul.

And it is beautiful. 

“The only thing worse than being blind is having sight but no vision.” Helen Keller

“For momentary, light affliction is producing for us an eternal weight of glory far beyond all comparison, while we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen; for the things which are seen are temporal, but the things which are not seen are eternal.”

2 Corinthians 4:17-18