Lessons are everywhere. I just never thought I could learn one from a robot, especially in my hometown of origin, deep in the heart of Texas.
As a Native Austinite, born and bred on Texas soil, I sometimes forget to see the hidden beauty in my surroundings. No matter where your homeland is, it’s easy to take it for granted as we lose childlike wonder through years of living. Disappointment, challenge, and familiarity fog our lenses of wonder, allowing us to only see partly. Our cup of fullness dwindles into smallness that leaves us believing we lack something.
Admittedly, having seen the glory of Switzerland’s pristine green mountains rising above vivid blue waters, and having lived in the bubble of Disney perfection (that’s another story to be visited), I’ve had to work harder to see the beauty of my harsh birthplace territory. Texas hill country vistas are stunning, but when it comes to actually setting foot on the rocky ground, my mind goes on high alert for possible interactions with snakes and scorpions. Hypervigilance is not always wisdom. It robs and redirects our gaze.
When my gaze is downward in search of danger, I only see cactus needles, fire ants, and other things I imagine might want to kill me. I’ve had to learn to see beyond the familiarity. Some say that “familiarity breeds contempt,” but I’ve learned that in an atmosphere of grace and mystery, familiarity breeds love. When my gaze is set upward, I notice majestic, towering trees that line rivers and creeks, chirping birds rising and falling on the air, and heavenly skies (unless it’s field-burning season for Mexico).
Here’s where the robot comes in. There’s a new mystery in my hometown of Austin (shown in the video above). Just when I thought I knew everything my city had to offer, Waymo showed up. For those who have a firm grasp on science and technology, you might not think of riding in a driverless Waymo car as a mystical experience, but this spectacular Jaguar creation impacted me on another level. I never thought a robot-on-wheels would become a lesson in letting go of control and trusting myself to an unseen force while facing heavy traffic and potentially precarious situations. And little did I know it would draw my attention upward and outward to see what’s been passing by all along. Hence, the giddy laughter that flowed from my mouth during the ride, reminding me that childlikeness returns in moments of releasing the reins.
When I first saw these human-less machines that greeted me by name, I swore I’d never give over control to something that, in my mind, couldn’t possibly make a snap decision to save my life. As Waymo carried me down a neighborhood road, I saw children playing in the street just ahead. Silent alarms went off in my mind and pleas to God began to spill from my lips: “Oh, God, oh, God, please don’t let this car run over these kids.” I’d be traumatized forever if this automated vehicle didn’t detect their presence. To my great delight, the car slowed down, almost to a stop as the kids made their way to the curbside. I breathed a sigh of relief as the car continued to drive a smooth five miles per hour as it passed them. “Way to go, Waymo!” Whimsical laughter danced its way through the mystical metal contraption.
In my childlike imagination, this was truly a magical experience. My gaze wasn’t turned downward, lost in the news of the day or in the virtual hurricane of social media. My attention was drawn straight ahead to watch the road. Once the robot earned my trust, my muscles relaxed while the car played peaceful, meditative music. It reignited a light in me that I allowed to be extinguished back when cell phones became a normal daily habit. I gradually became aware of the trees, the people, and the blue skies once glossed over…now enveloped in a mystical experience. In simply being carried, I was able to gaze upon life I’d long ignored. Austin treasures flashed by, awakening my heart to acknowledge them once more. How long had it been?
“Gazing,” I pondered. My thoughts turned to the beginnings of humanity; how people must have gazed into the distance, upward, in awe of the sky’s mysteries. Horizons must have peaked their curiosity. “How far can we go?” How did we lose the art of gazing?
As my songwriter friend, Godfrey Birtil of England puts it:
Deeper than our thoughts
Deeper than our vision
Or manifestations, imaginations
Or any created thing
Deeper than our prayers
Deeper than our prophecies
Or any word of knowledge
All we learned at bible college
Or any word we've ever preached
Refrain:
We are designed for gazing, gazing
A lifestyle of intimacy
Beholding our God
And the supreme excellence of His divinity
Exceeds the capacity of our customary speech
For God is more truly
Contemplated than spoken of
And He is more real than our highest experience
Much greater than our greatest experience
Exists more truly than He's contemplated
Our God
The refrain cries out a truth that goes farther than mere words can express. “We are designed for gazing, gazing. A lifestyle of intimacy, beholding our God.” It’s true that He’s much greater than our greatest experience. There have been moments in God’s presence when I was sure my spirit was about to pop right out of my body because the soaring, melodic power of a spirit that’s so much bigger than our bodies cannot be contained. This makes me think of Peter’s very shadow that healed those in its shelter; the shadow of God’s home releases the same power as the home itself, because the Father dwells there. Peter’s spirit, intermingled with God, went far beyond the limits of his flesh.
I wish I could have seen Peter’s face as he gazed at Jesus in wonder, awe, questioning, and beholding. Did he furrow his brow while trying to comprehend the mystery of Christ? It’s quite alarming that men who spent three to three and a half years with God-in-the-flesh still had issues. Men who were familiar with Christ still missed it at times; still floundered and wandered, yet ultimately stood firm even unto death. Familiarity with Jesus was familiarity with the face of Grace. They stood in the molten Love that God is. Familiarity didn’t breed contempt. It bred love.
Lessons are found everywhere: at the feet of Jesus, in the world He made, and in the robots made by people, which teach you to let go, be carried by the Spirit, and turn your gaze to the One who made it all.
One thing have I asked of the LORD, that will I seek after: that I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the LORD and to inquire in his temple. - Psalm 27:4
Where will you turn your gaze today?
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