The Lens Through Which We See

 The Lens Through Which We See

“If you wear glasses, you likely often forget that they’re even there! Only when you take the lenses off do you realize how much your capacity to see is informed by the lens through which you are seeing, or as Richard Rohr often says, ‘How we see is what we see.’”—Cynthia Bourgeault in The Shape of God: Deepening the Mystery of the Trinity (CAC, 2004), disc 2.

Here, Cynthia uses an analogy to teach us about the Trinity, but we can also apply it to everyday life. If you or the spiritual friends you meet wear glasses, try this exercise:

Take off your glasses. Try to see at a distance or read a passage of text. Perhaps you will “see” or realize that what you “see” depends on the lenses of your glasses. Our lens, or how we see the world, is often filtered by our work, family, or position.

We might experience a need for prestige, a desire for money, control, or power, a longing to be in the spotlight or successful, or we could be obsessed with beauty, clothes, food, another person, alcohol, drugs, or other addictions. We must wear sunglasses when the world or the sun is too bright. Sometimes, if we are depressed or grieving, we indeed may see the world through dark glasses.

Meditation, prayer, and meeting with spiritual friends can help us find the prescription of the lenses we use to view our family, friends, enemies, and the world. We learn to take those glasses off and are led inward to see the light, the Christ in ourselves, and the Christ in our neighbor.

We begin to see ourselves, the world, and others through the lens of the fruit of the spirit: love, joy, peace, forbearance (patience), kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control (Galatians 5:22-23).

Joanna  https://www.joannaseibert.com/

 

 

 

How We Love

Gerald May: How We Love

“In speaking of love, narcissism says, ‘I need you to love me.’ Erotic love says, ‘I need you.’ Filial love says, ‘I love you because I understand you.’ Agape—if it could speak—might say, ‘I am you in Love.’” —Gerald G. May in Will and Spirit (HarperOne, 1982), p. 167.

In Will and Spirit, Gerald May discusses types of love: narcissistic (self-love), Me-Me; erotic (romantic) love, Me-You; filial (compassionate) love, I-Thou; and agape (divine, unconditional) love. May believes erotic and filial love can act as “primary education leading to agape love.” Our confusion comes when we expect unconditional love from human beings and conditional love from God—and look for unconditional love from the image of God.

May points out that those who believe they are as holy as God commit perhaps the greatest sin. Willful self-determination is a template for human evil, just like willful vengeance. Willfulness always leads to separateness. 

If we can move toward forgiveness for some past wrong, our fundamental capacity for love will not be injured. But if we hold on to resentment, it will become increasingly difficult to love or feel lovable. Our sense of separateness increases, and we become more afraid of anything resembling belonging, surrender, or union.

It is not so much the nature of evil forces that we experience, but our response to them, that can make a difference in our lives. When faced with a difficult situation, we must not deaden ourselves to reality, cop out, or react quickly with our own plan, while forgetting to call on the active power of God. We are called to remember the importance of a situation and the need for action, but to factor in our total dependence on the unconditional love of God. Then our hearts can be open to God working in us—and at some deep level of our awareness, we can relax and be at peace.

Joanna. https://www.joannaseibert.com/

 

 

 

 

Fractals and the Shape of Our Christian Lives

 Fractals and  the Shape of Our Christian Lives

Guest Writers Steve and Sally Harms

carpet

Have you ever come across the concept of fractals? These are never-ending geometric patterns that exhibit self-similarity. One excellent example online is the Sierpiński carpet — a simple square divided into smaller and smaller squares that endlessly repeat the same design (https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Sierpinski-carpet.gif#/media/File:Sierpinski-carpet.gif). If you watch the video, you’ll notice the endless repeating themes. Fractals are prevalent in nature, found in various forms, such as snowflakes, trees, river systems, coastlines, and even mountains. A mountain is shaped the way it is because it is composed of similarly shaped rocks, which are made of pebbles, which are made of sand, and finally, molecules. Fractals are widely used in science. Our ability to stream Netflix is due to compression algorithms that utilize fractal-based techniques.

snowflake

 

In Chaos: Making a New Science, James Gleick describes how fractals help us make sense of what seems chaotic, like weather. Early radar gave scientists vast amounts of information, but prediction didn’t improve until computers could model the patterns of small, local changes. The key to understanding the big picture was in the details of the small things.

 

Just as the minutiae of weather reveal larger storms, Jesus teaches that the details of our inner lives reveal larger patterns of righteousness or sin. In Matthew 5, He takes the commandment “Do not murder” and breaks it down into its smallest components: “But I tell you that anyone who is angry with a brother or sister will be subject to judgment” (Matthew 5:21-22). Murder doesn’t emerge spontaneously; it begins with the “fractal seed” of anger, which evolves into contempt, which can erupt in destructive action.

 

Our personalities are akin to fractals. Small emotions grow into attitudes, which form habits, and those habits shape the pattern of our lives. That’s why Jesus emphasizes the urgency of reconciliation: “If you are presenting your gift at the altar and remember that your brother or sister has something against you, leave your gift there… First, go and be reconciled” (Matthew 5: 23–24).

 

An Olympic athlete achieves victory not through a single grand gesture, but through countless daily trainings that align with their overarching objective. Similarly, a Christian life is not merely a Sunday profession of faith, but a consistent pattern of years, days, hours, and minutes lived faithfully. Each moment embodies the larger framework of discipleship.

 

Recently, we have seen public figures and institutions targeted by violence fueled by divisive rhetoric. These are tragic reminders of Jesus’ teaching that sin begins not with the final act, but with the seed of anger and contempt. Jesus teaches us that violence starts with a thought, then a word, then an attitude — small steps that, if unchecked, spiral outward until they erupt into destructive action.

 

This is why we begin with prayer, as found in Psalm 80:19, which urges us to seek restoration and for God’s face to shine upon us, leading to salvation. The psalmists teach us to bring both grief and hope to God. Naaman’s story reminds us that healing and grace come through humility and obedience, not through status or power (as depicted in 2 Kings 5). Paul writes that true Christian life is not about pride, but about walking in the humility of the cross (as expressed in 1 Corinthians 4). Furthermore, Jesus emphasizes that worship and reconciliation are inseparable.

 

Where do we need reconciliation today? In our hearts, in fractured relationships, or within our community of faith? The shape of our lives, like a fractal, is formed in the smallest details. May we let God’s light shine in those details, so that our lives, our words, and our society reflect His restoring love.

 Steve and Sally Harms

Medicine has taught us that small things matter: a tiny pill can improve our lives; likewise, our thoughts can shape our character. With each Morning Reflection that we write—and with each one that we read from other gifted contributors—we gain fresh insights and continue to grow in our understanding. For this gift, we are deeply grateful to God and to St. Paul’s Episcopal Church. This piece was posted on Monday, September 22, 2025, from St. Paul’s Episcopal Church in their daily Morning Reflection.

Joanna  joannaseibert.com