He had His mothers smile and dimpled cheeks. He had Her auburn hair, Her nose, Her mouth. He had the music of Her voice and laughter, but He had His Fathers eyes.
As wind sweeps across the surface of a lake, changing its shadows, ripples, reflections and colors, so life swept across His eyes. And those who looked into them knew that they were looking through the windows of His heart and soul.
His eyes contained the freshness and purity of a snow-fed mountain stream. They were a place where winter was melting into music. In them was the energy, the vitality and the enthusiasm of One who loved people. A deep-breathed zest for living!
Often, as He gazed skyward, His eyes, like crystal pools, would seem to reflect heaven. And sometimes at sunset, they were ablaze with red and golden fire, --more a part of heaven than of earth.
Other times they would sparkle like the sea as He sailed with friends across the shimmering waters of Lake Galilee. There would be wind in His hair and a tingling of spray upon His cheek.
When He was a child, the wide-eyed innocence of youth mingled with pain as He saw and understood the significance of the sacrificial service.
When He worked in the carpenters shop, His eyes were the eyes of a craftsman as He scrutinized a handmade chair, searching meticulously for defects or errors.
Sometimes, after a night in prayer, His eyes would seem to hold the memory of a bygone time. As though He were a time traveler to whom the present posed no barrier. And He would watch the sunrise as one who looks with satisfaction and approval upon a job well done.
Whenever someone showed even the slightest kindness to a brute or fellowman, His eyes would shimmer with approval. They were full of patience for the struggling and acceptance for the repentant -no matter the sin. Looking for the lonely and offering a smile, they would sweep across a crowd. Always they contained compassion for the friendless, the losers, the outcasts. And they had empathy for those not blessed with the looks or the charm that make one popular with the superficial crowd. Understanding.
They would twinkle good naturedly when children pulled on His beard or robe. And His eyes were laughter as He tumbled with youngsters down the grassy slopes of springtime, or played tag with them, or skipped stones across the rippled surface of Galilee.
There was humor of another sort in those eyes as He answered a pharisaical question with another question or began an expose by saying, 'another parable...' The tale would conclude with a look that penetrated deceit and hypocrisy, and read the most secret thoughts.
Though filled with tears, His eyes at times were stern --even fierce-- as He flexed a powerful forearm while sweeping out His Fathers house. One could see pain that was difficult for Him to disguise as He witnessed evil or injustice.
One time they brought a woman to Him, and His eyes brimmed over at their thoughtlessness and her shame. As He said to her, 'Daughter, neither do I condemn you,' His eyes revealed the same love and care that was present when Hed return a fledgling to its nest.
Gentle were His eyes as He stroked a fevered brow, and sympathetic as He listened to a father pleading for the life of his child.
As He spoke to the crowds, one could see in His eyes an anxiousness, a hoping. There was longing in them as He searched for response from the hearts of calloused and indifferent people. There was wonder that they could listen and not hear, look but not see, come but not allow more than their bodies to be healed. And sorrow would linger as men and women sought Him for food or health and then left upon receiving it.
At times a spark of happy recognition could be seen as He noticed someone in the crowd who had been there before, listening and smiling. But there was sadness also, for most left with their loaves and fishes. Sadness as the disciples slept instead of praying. Sadness as He continued walking and working alone, despite the crowds that gathered. Always alone.
Concern shone in His eyes that many would never respond, never realize who was passing by. Even Philip said, 'Show us the Father and it will suffice,' and those who heard the reply, 'Oh, Philip, have I been with you so long and still you say, Show us the Father?' also noted in His eyes, a shadow of despair.
One could see, however, a renewal of courage and the return of a sparkle, as He came forth morning by morning from talking with His Father. Early, pre-dawn winds would blow their own energies into him and cares would drop away like the leaves of autumn. In His eyes would be joy! Joy also as Peter proclaimed, 'You are the Christ, the Son of the living God!' Joy as Greeks from the West said, 'We would see Jesus!' Joy as a dying thief called him Lord!
Just now there is longing and wistfulness in His eyes as He walks through the empty streets and mansions of His Fathers house. Desperately He wants to say, 'Welcome home children!' Eagerly Hes waiting to hear laughter in those streets. Anxiously He's waiting to be reunited with His friends. Oh, His eyes are going to fill with joy turned glory when He can finally say, 'Lo, I come!'
He told us that if we had seen Him, we had seen the Father. He had His Fathers eyes. And all who saw them felt, though they stood upon the earth, that they gazed into the very eyes of God.
The Pleasure of His Company - His Father' Eyes
Copyright © 1994, written by Lee Venden