While sitting before a beautiful landscape, one is easily awed by the magnitude of God’s creative power. As the scene unfolds, changing light reveals new shapes and colors, while a sense of peace and well-being fills the viewer’s thought. There is an expectancy of good, an earnest desire to approve. For a fleeting moment, we have an opportunity to recognize something beyond the geometric shapes and elusive hues of nature, glimpsing that breathtaking appearance of beauty that surpasses what the eye can see. The immediate acceptance of the scene as created by God—as illustrated perfection, as inspirational—is automatic. No one finds fault with a snow-capped mountain or a stunning sunset. The viewer takes no credit nor offers judgment, other than to appreciate and praise.
Why then does one not have this outlook when viewing the highest expression of God’s creation—man? Why is there not the same awe and appreciation as there is for a flower or a tree or a mountain? They are all made by God, with the same genius and creativity. A blocked or unclear field of vision, a vision contaminated with false data, and a determination to see what one wishes to see, heavily influences what is
seen—and the response to that observation. What is seen is what is expected in both the landscape viewing and the examination of mankind. It is therefore so important to understand the way we are seeing.
Living in the state of Alaska, many locals will attest to the fact that the top of the largest mountain there, Mount McKinley, is seldom seen. Viewers wait for days for a glimpse of the majestic peak. Just when one is about to give up, the clouds roll away and the spectacular image emerges. This awesome experience surpasses what can be imagined. The view of the complete mountain transcends what seems possible, and cannot be fully experienced through artists’ renderings or photographs.
