The Lens
So many words are spoken today, and so much background noise fills the air, creating confusion. Future generations will not stand a chance unless we begin to speak truth through the lens of wisdom, the lens of experience, the lens of reality, and above all, through the lens of love and truth.
The older I get, the more clearly my lens focuses on what truly matters—the real meaning of life—and the powerful truth that it’s never too late to shape humanity through words.
We have to help the next generation turn away from their addiction to knowledge, their addiction to social platforms, and their addiction to fame. Our minds were never meant to absorb so much information, and this has caused our lenses to become blurred far too early in life.
We may not bring anything new to the table, but what we do have is a more focused lens—sharpened by years, pain, and perspective—unlike the generations coming behind us. We now compete with machines that have fostered a deep addiction to information, shaping the lenses of humanity across all ages. Just look around the next time you are out and see humanity with their heads down and their eyes locked on their machines.
The lens will tell the real story. A focused lens reveals the truth, but if it’s distorted, it brings lies into reality. I have looked through the lens as a twenty-year-old, as a thirty-year-old, as a forty-year-old, as a fifty-year-old, and now as a sixty-year-old. I now see more clearly the traumas that have shaped me. I have accepted the fact that I was not the cause but a casualty of a lens that was so blurred and full of evil. As I walked into the path of that evil lens, nothing but torture took place. I tried my best to stay out of sight.
Those traumas have given me a unique vision, a hard-earned clarity that helps me fight my battles one at a time—mostly with myself, and sometimes with those around me. Some never realize they are in the focus of my lens. They are just stray casualties of the ever-changing lens and the unwanted focus that was not meant for them. They take it personally, but it’s not that way at all. The fact of the matter is that what comes into the view of the lens has a purpose, and that purpose is to bring a clear vision to our humanity, our life, our purpose, and our existential being.
I have come to one conclusion about this story. It is much more complex than just a short one-liner. With that said, I will focus on what’s ahead.
It’s been weeks now, and I’m still struggling with the direction. The front end of this story has changed so many times. I believe it’s because when we sit back and take time to bring clarity into focus, the lens brings something that is so beautiful that we can say, That’s it!
That’s what’s different about my twenty-year-old lens, my thirty-year-old lens, and even my forty-year-old lens. These years were about taking everything in and processing what came into focus. My formative years were so blurry. I lived in survival mode, where there was no time to focus on anything else.
I know that’s not the case for all of humanity. I often wonder what it’s like to be looking through a twenty-year-old lens right now; it must be terrifying. Even the thirty and forty-year-old lens must carry deep concern for what’s to come.
But a focused lens brings hope and a calm reality. We all come from uniquely shaped lenses, and that’s what makes this world so beautiful and diverse. If we all shared the same focus and the same lens in this life, we would not need Him. That’s the beauty of the lens; it builds us, layer by layer, shaping us through the years.
Now, my fifty-year-old lens was the start of a revolution inside of my soul. I’m not sure if that’s true for all lenses that develop in our humanity, but for me, it sparked a new clarity. To be honest, the late fifties brought an awakening of sorts that led me into a new era. I realized that I had spent so many years running from the very clarity that I was searching for. I kept the focus I desired out of reach because of fear. I was afraid of what would come into view, afraid of what clarity might bring. I fought hard. And now, I am in my sixty-year-old lens.
I am still fighting for clarity. I want to see, but I am still fearful of this past that seems to emerge with new memories and destruction. Yet I now have tools—handed to me by the grace of beautiful people who were placed in my life.
Despite all the scratches, rough spots, and blurred areas on my lens, there is hope. The scratches are reminders of past losses and past victories—each one now clearer in hindsight. The rough patches reflect the mountains I have climbed and the roads I have traveled. The blurred spots? Maybe they’re just meant to stay there for now. Maybe that’s grace, too.
No matter where you are in your lens of life, accept the scratches, the rough patches, and even the blur. These are all part of the journey. Look at what’s in focus now. Work on that. That’s where you are right now. That’s what matters.
Clarity will come with time. Don’t rush toward it so quickly that you miss the understanding meant for the moment. True clarity will never come from the machines designed to overwhelm our minds. It comes through genuine connection—one-on-one—and through alignment with our purpose in life.
Our relational response to one another is what brings clarity and vision to our purpose in life.
So, let’s continue to polish our lenses—the lens of compassion, attention, purpose, and love.
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