The Gospel According to Sunglasses

The Gospel According to Sunglasses

I found myself wondering the other day . . . who invented sunglasses? Do we actually know? The answer is . . . not really. No one can put a name to the inventor. Historians tell us that centuries ago the Inuit created snow goggles from bone with narrow slits cut into them to protect their eyes from the glare of the sun. Sunglasses have been helping people for centuries.

Today, of course, they’re everywhere. Some people wear them to make a fashion statement. Others wear them for driving. Others simply because they don’t like squinting. As for me, I wear them for one very simple reason. It’s bright. That’s what sunglasses are for. The brighter the light, the greater the need for them.

That simple thought set me thinking. Sunglasses don’t improve the sunshine; they simply help us live in its brilliance. Nor do they change reality. They simply change the way we see it. The sky is the same. The landscape is the same. The sun is the same. Only the lens has changed. Life is rather like that. Two people can face exactly the same circumstances yet see completely different things. One sees obstacles; another sees opportunities. One sees only problems; another discovers possibilities. One sees disappointment; another sees direction.

Often, life is less about what we’re looking at than the lens through which we’re looking. That reminded me of one of the simplest and yet most profound statements in the Bible: ‘God is light; in him there is no darkness at all’ (1 John 1:5 NIV).

Notice what it doesn’t say. It doesn’t say God has light. It says God is light. Perfect holiness. Perfect purity. Perfect glory. That explains one of the boldest prayers ever prayed. Moses said, ‘Please show me your glory’ (Exodus 33:18 ESV). What an astonishing request. God’s answer was both gracious and sobering: ‘You cannot see my face, for no one may see me and live’ (Exodus 33:20 NIV).

So God placed Moses in the cleft of a rock, covered him with his hand, and allowed him only a glimpse of his passing glory (Exodus 33:21-23).

Even that glimpse changed him. When Moses came down the mountain, his face shone with reflected glory, so much so that he wore a veil before the people (Exodus 34:29-35).

We struggle to look directly at the sun God created. How much more glorious must be the Creator? Centuries later, the prophet Malachi looked forward to the coming Messiah and gave him one of the most beautiful titles in the whole Bible:

‘For you who fear my name, the Sun of Righteousness will rise with healing in his wings.’ (Malachi 4:2 NLT)

I love that image. Without the sun, our world would be cold, dark and lifeless. Without the Sun of Righteousness, so would our souls. Then Jesus stood before the crowds and made one of the greatest claims ever spoken:

‘I am the light of the world. If you follow me, you won’t have to walk in darkness, because you will have the light that leads to life.’
(John 8:12 NLT)

Only Jesus could say those words. Light enables us to see. It guides us. It warms us. It gives life. But it also reveals. Have you ever noticed how dust suddenly appears when sunshine streams through a window? The light didn’t create the dust, it simply revealed what was already there. God’s light works in exactly the same way. It doesn’t expose us in order to shame us. It exposes us in order to cleanse us and save us. It reveals the disease because it has come with the cure.

Jesus demonstrated that beautifully when he met the man born blind (John 9). The neighbours saw a beggar. The religious leaders saw a theological problem. Jesus saw a person. He opened the man’s eyes. But that wasn’t his greatest miracle. The greater miracle came later. The man’s eyes were opened. Then his heart was opened. He came to recognise Jesus, trust Jesus and worship Jesus.

That miracle is still happening today. Every day, Christ opens blind hearts. The apostle Paul prayed that ‘the eyes of your heart may be enlightened’ (Ephesians 1:18 NIV). What a remarkable expression. Eyes of the heart. You can have perfect eyesight and still miss what matters most.

We can recognise a famous face and never recognise our Creator.

We can spend our life looking around and never think to look up.

The greatest blindness isn’t in the eyes. It’s in the heart. And the greatest eye test we will ever have isn’t at the optician’s. It’s before God. Paul goes on to describe the miracle of conversion with these unforgettable words:

‘For God, who said, “Let there be light in the darkness,” has made this light shine in our hearts so we could know the glory of God that is seen in the face of Jesus Christ.’ (2 Corinthians 4:6 NLT)

Isn’t that wonderful? The God who spoke light into the universe now speaks light into human hearts. The God whose glory Moses longed to see has revealed that glory in Jesus Christ. Jesus didn’t come simply to make bad people good. He came to make spiritually blind people see. He doesn’t merely improve our outlook. He transforms our vision.

So this summer, whenever you put on a pair of sunglasses, let them remind you of a far greater Light. The sunglasses may help you enjoy the sunshine. Only Jesus can help you enjoy the Son. One day, those who belong to Christ will no longer see dimly. As Paul writes, ‘Now we see things imperfectly . . . but then we will see everything with perfect clarity’ (1 Corinthians 13:12 NLT).

No sunglasses. No veil. No shadows. Only glory.

The One whom Moses longed to see. The One whom the man born blind came to worship.

The One whom Malachi called the Sun of Righteousness. The One who still opens blind eyes and blind hearts today.

Perhaps, after all, the gospel according to sunglasses is simply this: the brighter the Light, the more clearly we need to see. And the brightest Light the world has ever seen is Jesus Christ.

So enjoy the sunshine. Wear your sunglasses. But every time you put them on, remember to look beyond the sun . . . to the Sun of Righteousness.

Because when you truly see Jesus, you begin – for the very first time – to see everything else as it really is.

Grace and peace,

J.John

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