Sight and Insight

‘““The things which are seen are temporal; but the things which are not seen are eternal.”’ — 2 Cor. iv. 18.

To be able to see the first is sight; to be able to see the second is insight. The first mode of vision is natural, the second mode is spiritual. The primary organ in the first discernment is intellect; the primary organ in the second discernment is faith. To be able to see “‘ the things which are unseen”’ is the commanding difference between the mind of the flesh and the mind of the spirit. One gazes upon the outsides of things, and thereby misinterprets them, for it never sees their vital currency; the other pierces through the outer veils, and beholds “the things which are unseen,” and it discovers something of the secrets of the divine order. All through the Scriptures this contrast between sight and insight is being continually presented to us, and everywhere we are taught to measure the meagreness and stinginess of the one, and set it over against the fulness and expansiveness of the other.

Here is Elijah hard beset by material circumstances. He is hemmed in by a material host, and in all the enveloping circle there does not seem to be the narrowest break through which he can escape. Materialism is rampant, and regnant, and it has him fast in its grip. Every visible thing reveals a prison-gate, and it is closed against his release. He is shut in by “the things which are seen,” and there is no way out. Who has not shared his experience?

Our material circumstances have gathered and narrowed around us until we felt we were in the closing embrace of tyrannical iron arms. Perhaps the narrowing circle meant a lessening business, and so it concerned our daily bread. Or perhaps it was the invincible approach of some sickness, and its powers seemed to fill the entire field. Or perhaps in days of worldly confusion we felt that material forces were altogether dominant, and we were being crushed in their merciless grip. In one of a hundred ways we may have been overwhelmed with the sense that “‘ the things which are seen” were the only things on the field. Well, that was the condition of the prophet’s servant: the “seen ’’ was to him the “all.” Everything was there. He used the powers of common observation, and so everything was opaque, and nothing was transparent. But the prophet had eyes of faith, and sight was sublimed into insight. Material veils became transparent, and an invisible world rose into view. ‘‘ Lo, the mountains were full of horses and chariots of fire!” The mystic forces were on the march. The little circle of material foes was only a fragment of the contending hosts. God was at work! His troops were on the field. The mountains were full of them. And the spirit of the prophet beheld these things of the Spirit, and he waited for the issues with unshaken confidence and equanimity. The servant was gifted with sight, the prophet was gifted with insight. One had reason, the other had faith.

Here is a certain widow going up to the Temple to worship. As she enters she quietly drops her offering into the Treasury. When the Treasurer gathers up her coins he is half-amused at the contribution. Two mites, which make a farthing! Not much here for the endowment of the Temple! Not much here for the emoluments of the priests! As ‘“‘ things which are seen” the coins were about next door to nothing! But there was One, sitting over against the Treasury, who was looking on with quite another sort of eyes. To Him the visible became transparent, and an invisible world appeared.

*“The things which are not seen ’? came into view. Behind the two mites He saw a precious motive, He saw a spirit of adoration, He saw a passion of love and sacrifice. The Treasurer saw two mites, Jesus saw a whole heaven, He saw something akin to the unsearchable riches of His own grace.

Here is the Church at Rome. It is reported to Paul that the Church was “spoken against by everybody.” The folk of Rome can see nothing about it which is grand or impressive. It has gathered no splendour of great names, no weight of distinguished authority. It is mean and commonplace, and therefore it is despised and rejected. As one of “the things which are seen” it does not count. As one of “the things which are seen” it is lost in the magnificence of imperial Rome. But the Apostle Paul looks upon this Church with other eyes, and invisible things appear. Unseen glories troop out and rest upon the commonplace conventicle. Mysterious distinctions gather about the insignificant

Church. ‘‘ To all that are in Rome, beloved of God.” And now what about imperial kinship? Here is splendour of lineage and relation! ‘‘ Called to be saints.’”” These obscurities are here seen to be wearing proud titles. They are heirs to vast inheritances. Grace and peace are resting upon them. In Paul’s eyes these men and women are greatly distinguished. He beholds their invisible fellowships, and they shine in heavenly places in Christ Jesus. The passing Roman sees only a grey commonplace, Paul sees the children of God. ‘‘ Now the things which are seen are temporal; but the things which are not seen are eternal.”