New Eyes

I blazed down the court toward the basket, imagining myself taking flight like Michael Jordan and slamming the ball through the hoop with ferocity. But as my feet left the ground, I felt something leave my face. I instantly knew—my glasses! With my vision lost, my concentration vanished, and I dove out of bounds into the grass.

My students and I searched in the waning light, but my glasses were nowhere to be found. I finally sent the kids home and walked toward my apartment with a heavy heart.

Suddenly, an agonizing thought froze me in my tracks. My glasses had to be somewhere near that court, and tomorrow the children would be playing there. What if someone stepped on my glasses before I had a chance to find them? How would I replace them on an island in the middle of the Pacific? This was not how I wanted my student missionary year to go!

I met our principal, Mr. Meharry, on the way to my room and shared my dilemma. He suggested that we continue the search now, but before we began, he did something that had completely slipped my mind. He invited me and his young son, Joshua, to pray. Ten minutes later, Joshua ran to show me his discovered treasure—my glasses!

That evening on the court wasn’t my only experience with the power of prayer when it came to my glasses. During my year abroad, God used my temporary loss of vision as a lesson in humility and trust several times.

The weather was warm and sunny—a perfect day to explore the island on our day off. When my turn to swing came, I was excited to show off my Tarzan-like abilities. I grabbed the vine and began the launch from the runway of water and rocks. Soon I was airborne. I realized my mistake the instant my face hit the water. My glasses were gone. We searched the murky depths of the river but found nothing.

When Mr. Meharry heard about my mishap, he said we would return the next morning to continue the search. Why bother? I thought. This time, they’re gone for good.

Mr. Meharry woke us up early the next morning to lead the search party. When we arrived at the site of the incident, he suggested something I had forgotten the previous day—prayer. He asked for God’s help, and in just a few minutes he was waving my glasses triumphantly over his head.

The sun beat down unmercifully as my students and I cleaned up trash around campus. Every time I bent down to pick something up, drops of sweat splashed on my lenses, making it impossible to see. I tucked them in my shirt pocket and got back to work.

When we’d finished the job, a queasy realization settled over me—my glasses were gone, again. My students and I searched and searched, but the elusive spectacles were not found.

That night I did what I hadn’t done before. I prayed.

I didn’t find my glasses the next day, or the next, and I was tempted to doubt. But then I remembered my past experiences of God’s power and providence. He had come through before; I needed to trust Him now.

Two days later, one of my students came up to me wearing my glasses. “We were collecting the trash piles to take to the dump,” he explained. “We raked through each pile carefully just in case your glasses had fallen in the trash, and here they are!” This was the final miracle in the trilogy of my lost glasses and by far the greatest.

I gained new sight when I found my glasses that day. I saw clearly that God cares about even the little things in our lives. I saw that when we pray, He’s always there, listening and willing to give us new eyes to trust Him.