If you are a neurologist, your understanding of our five primary senses (sight, hearing, smell, touch and taste) will be much deeper than mine. In fact, you will quickly argue that Aristotle’s original list of five senses is woefully incomplete. Maybe so, but it was still pretty profound for his day.
In reality, often, how we live our lives doesn’t go much beyond the big five. We get discouraged if we can’t see the results. We dream about what we saw and now want. We look around and scan the horizon for something out there to make us feel happier in here. We walk by sight so often. We keep listening for feedback to affirm us. We crave explanations that will tie the loose ends together. We want to put our finger directly on the exact cause. We want to savour the sweet taste of blessing and success right here and now.
And all of that is only natural.
Only natural — but is it spiritual? The Apostle Paul enjoyed another sense – a deeper perception. In fact, he labelled all the things that can be seen in our lives as merely transient, but the things we cannot see, he classified as permanently eternal. If he depended only on the prism of the five senses to explain his life, he would have called it quits years earlier.
Paul could see the scowls on his family’s faces when he trusted Christ. He could see fierce animosity in the eyes of the religion out of which he had been wonderfully saved. He could see the waves that would wreck his ship. He could feel the lashes on his back as well as the hunger pains. He could hear people talking against him – including Christians he had previously led to faith in Christ. He could smell trouble brewing.
Had Paul only had those classic and so very common senses, he would have despaired and given up. After all, he was just a frail human vessel – a fragile jar of clay.
But Paul had more. He had a deeper perception that enabled him to enjoy things that could not be seen or touched. He didn’t need explanations for the here and now. He didn’t have to have the answers to the riddles or the paradoxes of life. He didn’t need to hold a piece of paper and put his index finger on one paragraph and say: “There it is. There’s the reason.”
Paul’s secret was spiritual—not mystical. Every day, Paul ensured the Spirit of God was renewing, refreshing and refurbishing his own spirit deep within him. He daily walked closely with God. There was an intimate connection, and the indwelling Holy Spirit nourished his inner spirit.
This daily inner renewal allowed Paul to perceive his reality in light of eternity, which cannot be seen with natural eyes. This deep, daily work going on inside Paul enabled him to happily serve the Risen Christ—despite what seemed like overwhelming forces against him.
“…This is the reason why we never collapse. The outward man does indeed suffer wear and tear, but every day the inward man receives fresh strength. These little troubles (which are really so transitory) are winning for us a permanent, glorious and solid reward out of all proportion to our pain. For we are looking all the time not at the visible things but at the invisible. The visible things are transitory: it is the invisible things that are really permanent.” 2 Corinthians 4:16-18 (JB Philips Paraphrase)
Only a Spirit-nourished inner life enables a believer to endure present affliction with eternal perspective. Without that deep inner work happening daily, no Christian — not even Paul, could ever say: “These little troubles (which are really so transitory) are winning for us a permanent, glorious and solid reward out of all proportion to our pain.”
Paul referred to this deep inner perception in his Ephesian epistle:
I pray that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened, so that you will know what is the hope of His calling, what are the riches of the glory of His inheritance in the saints, and what is the surpassing greatness of His power toward us who believe. Ephesians 1:18-19
Only a Christ-filled heart focused on God and trusting Him fully to work out His eternal purposes can rise above the circumstances of life and see through blinding tears that which is invisible.