No joke: I still can’t explain it.

The defect of chipped paint that had developed on the frame of my new (rather pricey) glasses was simply not there anymore. It was like someone had visited my bedside while I slept and filled in the hole with perfectly matched pigment. During the days that immediately followed, I kept taking my glasses off and searching for the flaw that I knew had been there, which persisted in my mind as something ugly and obvious to anyone who got near.

How did this happen? I insisted on asking. And why?

As with many inexplicable things, my thoughts turned toward God, whom I regularly credit—or blame—when I cannot solve the equation before me, positive or negative. But this, this strange little blessing seemed too whimsical and too minute a matter for Him to get involved with. With tragedies and crises playing out across the world stage, why would He do something that would mean so much to me, but nothing to anyone else? Was that the point? The Giver singling me out for a gift that would make me feel chosen and loved by Him?

I wish I could say that this miracle was a profound moment of healing; that in the face of this gift from my Heavenly Father, the lingering wounds left by my abusive, earthly father melted away. That this was my burning bush, my Damascus road, my Mount of transfiguration moment. However, the bruises and scars remain (though diminished after years of inner healing). I often forget about my quiet miracle as I go through my day, glasses perched upon my nose as they are right now.

As we all go through our days on this broken planet, circumstances hack away at our faith, so that unless we are regularly reminding ourselves of God’s wonders, great oaks will become splinters. Think of the Israelites, rescued by the parting of the Red Sea and yet incredulous when asked to believe that God could help them overcome the occupants of other countries they were supposed to inhabit. They wandered the desert for forty years instead, heads stuck in the sand, so to speak. It just goes to show that supernatural events don’t necessarily produce ironclad belief.

Alas, I have not been walking around completely covered in spiritual armor since this quiet marvel transpired. I’m still subject to doubt and cynicism as I was before. The only difference is that I have something to counter my dubious questions with when they sprout like weeds. I can hold my glasses in my hands and look at where the chip used to be. It helps on days when I seem to be leaking faith like a sieve. I’ve noticed that two questions have emerged consistently as I go through this process of remembrance and reexamination:

1) Just how sturdy is this miracle? 

I mean, will my glasses stay intact, or am I going to wake up again one morning to find that they have reverted to a damaged state? If so, what will that do to my heart? Will I become distrusting and pessimistic, worse off than I was before?

2) What should my response ultimately be?

I have been taking special care of my glasses ever since they’ve been made whole again. When I exercise or do something that exposes my face to things like chlorine or sunscreen, I put on an old pair of glasses. When I go to bed at night, I carefully wrap my glasses in a silky kerchief and put them in a special eyeglass case. I guess I am saying that I don’t want to be careless or reckless with the gift that I’ve been given. I want to preserve it as if it was a precious gem in a museum.

How much of my miracle’s longevity is my responsibility? I know myself, and can easily envision a scenario in which I sin and then expect the miracle to be taken away as punishment. In that case, it would become a sword of Damocles hanging above my head, always a breath away from snapping. I don’t want to live like that, where something that was good eventually becomes a burden that I must monitor.

Sadly, human beings afflicted by catastrophic thinking—such as myself—often experience this dynamic: one in which blessings become a focal point for a film reel of disastrous what ifs. What if I accidentally do x? What if y should happen? The list goes on and on.

When I think about it, these “healed” glasses are the perfect metaphor for many other provisions in my life: people who love me, good health, resources to cope with challenges, etc. I cannot say how long I will enjoy their presence in my life, or how or when they might change or disappear altogether. Jesus said, “Freely you have received, freely give” (Matthew 10:8). I always took that to mean that we should hold onto our blessings loosely, and not with a tight fist, since life can prove unpredictable. Now I’m thinking he means to simply be grateful for and generous with whatever we find in abundance in our lives. Maybe even be generous with things that are scarce but still ours to give in the right way and moment. Who knows how God might use and multiply the gift? After all, Jesus was known for feeding great crowds with little offerings. What might He do with our pittance, whatever it is?

I think I will make these restored glasses my loaves and fishes (John 6:9ff). Whenever I can remember to, I will bring them to God as did the little boy who shared his lunch and ask that he move in power and mercy through them. Perhaps there is someone in my immediate vicinity who could use a little, personalized miracle of their own.

As I hold these glasses in my mind’s eye, my closing prayer is simply this: whatever You want, however You want. And thanks!

What small wonder may have landed in your lap, and what will you do with it? May we all be so blessed and have the wisdom and insight to see the gift and propagate the giving. We don’t have to understand the miracles to move ahead with them. Thank the Lord for that.

Amen.