Do we ever wonder about what (or who) we see?

A month ago, my fourth uncle passed away. He was my mother’s youngest sibling.

He passed on in Australia, where he had lived for almost 30 years. None of his family could travel there in time to say our last farewells.

It was and still is bittersweet, but not for the reasons above.

My uncle lived an uncommon life. In an age when artistic gifts and dreams were set aside for more pragmatic pathways, he followed his heart. First, pursuing dance, he became a dancer, then a teacher of dancers. And before it was a trend for Singaporeans to go overseas to further their careers, he was already there, in Europe, pursuing his passion.

In later years, my uncle pivoted from the performing arts to the fine arts, exploring and deepening in the crafts of painting, pottery, and others. As I write this, I realised I was the only family member privileged to have been present at his thesis pottery exhibition, in the city where he lived.

His life choices and journey, though, were things the family never fully understood.

For most of our lives, we saw him as the maverick, the black sheep, the one who traversed a hundred worlds and paths that none of us would or could tread.

But that was what we saw.

Upon his passing, the online overflow of grief and tributes from those who knew him stunned us. From his local city, from across Australia, and from across the world, many posted and shared cherished memories of him.

They revealed a side of my uncle which we only had had a glimpse of—his hearty laughter, his laconic but self-deprecating wit, and that impassioned look in his eyes.

And there was more. They spoke of a kindness, a deep-set kindness for others that made them feel welcomed and acknowledged. My uncle used the eclectic gifts he had to help and encourage others in theirs, so much so that he became a friend and encourager to many.

We had known about his giftings, but never went beyond to see how he used them. So set were we in how we viewed him, we missed the treasures others saw, and we missed celebrating who he truly was, with him.

In writing this, I am writing a eulogy for my uncle.

In writing this, I am also writing to ask myself and ask you—do we ever wonder about what we see in others?

Do we have an interest, a desire, a curiosity, to see or know a person as they truly are?

Having a desire to know something or someone is one definition of the word “wonder”, but there are other definitions. “Wonder” can also be a verb denoting doubt. “Wonder” can also be a noun, a feeling of amazement and admiration, caused by something beautiful, remarkable or even unfamiliar.

Having read the heartfelt tributes to my uncle, my family were struck with a kind of wonder; an amazement that others saw beauty where we could not. And ironically, we almost never wondered if we were wrong about him, because we never gave ourselves the kindness and space to wonder, to be curious and to know him better and more truly.

Jimmy Chang, Unsplash

And this brings me to the second part of what I am writing.

What does the Father see when He sees you?

Does He constantly see all that is wrong with you, or does He see the good in you?

Years ago, I used to wonder about my self-worth. With a distinct birthmark on my face and a string of failures – real and perceived - in my life, I was not someone that people, least of all myself, would call a wonder.

But finally, at the end of myself as a man, son, husband, and father, I encountered the Father.

And when I encountered Him, I saw myself the way He has seen me all along. Precious and beloved.

I also saw how He used his sons and daughters to go forth, in different ways, to call out the beauty and treasure in others, especially those whom we consider sinners, unclean, or of little importance and worth in our eyes.

Instead of the lens with which I was taught to see myself and others, each encounter with the Father showed me to see with His lens. Rereading the Bible through this new lens, I saw the fullness of His heart for us. Sadly, I missed seeing my uncle as how God sees him. It is still a journey I am on, learning to see the treasure in others.

If you are wondering, “What about me? I am not a Christian.”—it doesn’t matter if you don’t call Him Father or God now.

You are already good in His eyes, a wonder to Him.

Just allow yourself to see how He sees you.

One day I’ll meet my uncle again,

on streets of gold,

in the embrace of a Father,

who calls us to wonder,

in all the most beautiful ways.

See you there too.

Tim is married with one son. He has been on a journey into the Father's heart, and is learning to parent his son as the Father parents him.