Eyes on the light
The other morning I took my bike out early, before the day had a chance to get loud. My route crosses one of those long pedestrian bridges over the highway, the kind wrapped top to bottom in a chain-link cage.
If you’ve ridden one, you know the feeling. Black metal arches curve over your head one after another, and every single line pulls your eyes forward. Straight ahead. Down the path. Toward that little circle of daylight at the far end.
So that’s what I did. Hands on the handlebars, eyes locked on the exit, pedaling hard. Just get across. Just get to the other side.
Then I looked up
Somewhere around the middle, I eased off the pedals and glanced up. And there it was.
The whole sky. Soft blue, wide open, morning light spilling over everything. It had been right there the entire ride, just on the other side of the fence. I couldn’t tell you a single thing about it until that moment, because I never lifted my head.
When I finally rolled out the other end, the cage dropped away and it was all sky, green grass, and open road. But here’s what got me: the view didn’t change when I got off that bridge. Only what I was willing to see changed.
We all ride through cages
I think a lot of us are living our whole lives on that bridge.
We lock in on the next thing. The next bill. The next appointment. The next crisis with the kids or the job or the bank account. We tell ourselves we’ll breathe once we get to the other side. Then we get there, and there’s another bridge.
Tunnel vision isn’t always a bad thing. Sometimes you need focus to get through a hard season. But when it becomes the only way you see, you start missing things:
- The people sitting right next to you who just want your attention
- The small, quiet blessings that show up every single day
- The ways God is already working while you’re busy worrying
- The beauty of the season you’re in, even the messy parts
The fence makes you feel boxed in. But the fence was never the whole story. The sky was always bigger than the cage.
Lord, open my eyes
There’s a story in 2 Kings 6 that I keep coming back to. The prophet Elisha and his servant wake up one morning and find their whole city surrounded by an enemy army. Horses, chariots, soldiers everywhere.
The servant panics. All he can see is the threat right in front of him.
But Elisha stays calm. He tells him not to be afraid, because those with them are more than those against them. Then he prays a simple prayer:
“Open his eyes, Lord, so that he may see.” (2 Kings 6:17)
And God does. The servant looks up and sees the hills full of horses and chariots of fire, surrounding them with protection.
Here’s the part I don’t want you to miss. Nothing new showed up in that moment. God’s protection had been there the whole time. The only thing that changed was the servant’s eyes.
That’s tunnel vision in a nutshell. It doesn’t take away what God is doing. It just keeps you from seeing it.
How to lift your eyes this week
You don’t have to get off the bridge to see the sky. You just have to look up. Here are a few simple ways to start:
- Pray Elisha’s prayer. Before your feet hit the floor, say it out loud: “Lord, open my eyes so I can see what You’re doing today.”
- Slow your pace. Take one walk, one drive, or one bike ride this week with no podcast and no phone. Just notice.
- Name three things. Every night, write down three good things you almost missed. Small counts. Coffee that was still hot counts.
- Look at your people. Put the phone face down at dinner. Ask somebody how they’re really doing, and actually listen.
- Remember what’s already been done. Think back to a season you didn’t think you’d survive. God carried you then. He hasn’t stopped.
The sky is still there
I rode across that bridge the next morning too. Same cage, same arches, same little circle of light at the end. But this time I kept looking up.
Whatever you’re riding through right now, I hope you’ll do the same. The hard season is real. But it isn’t the whole picture. God is bigger than the fence, and His goodness is all around you, even when you’re too focused to see it.
So slow down. Lift your head. Look around.
Your turn: What’s one blessing you almost rode right past this week? Share it in the comments. I’d love to read it.
If you want a quiet place to keep going deeper, Still, Small Voice is for the seasons when you need to hear Him again, and Grace Unfolding walks you through the whole Bible in a year, one day at a time (use code GRACE20). You can also find more encouragement on Instagram at @mommajscozycottage.
With so much love, Momma J 🤍
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