It Depends on How You Look at It

“If you were blind, you wouldn’t be guilty,” Jesus replied. “But you remain guilty because you claim you can see.” (John 9:40-41 NLT)

How is it possible for a group of people to be in the same place at the same time and witness the same event and yet come away with different, sometimes opposite, interpretations? For example, siblings raised in the same home by the same parents can sometimes have completely different perspectives on their family experience. One remembers a happy family of love and safety. Another remembers only dysfunctionality and emotional abuse. Or think of those people in New Jersey last year who, on numerous occasions, saw unidentified flying objects in the night sky. Some thought the evidence pointed to espionage by a foreign country. Others claimed that our own government was conducting a secret mission. Still others believed we were being visited by aliens from another planet. And some concluded this was all the work of a neighborhood prankster.

How we perceive reality is a subject that has fascinated me for years. From a psychological perspective, it invites us to explore the deepest mysteries of the human psyche. But the topic is not just theoretical and abstract. It becomes intensely personal, even threatening, when applied to emotional events close to home; for example, the memorial service of Charlie Kirk (September 21, 2025). We all witnessed the same event. Yet we did not all see the same thing. Some were filled with awe and amazement, believing they had just experienced one of the most Jesus-exalting worship services in American history. Others were turned off by what they saw, perceiving only a brazen and blasphemous display of Christian nationalism and right-wing extremism.

The division among Christians over Charlie’s legacy has left me deeply troubled. How can we see the same event and come to such radically opposite interpretations? A short passage in John’s gospel is helping me to better understand this sad situation. After making his triumphal entry into Jerusalem, Jesus begins to talk openly about his approaching death. As he speaks, he begins to pray out loud:

“Father, bring glory to your name.”

Then a voice spoke from heaven, saying, “I have already brought glory to my name, and I will do so again.” When the crowd heard the voice, some thought it was thunder, while others declared an angel had spoken to him. (John 12:28-29 NLT)

What could be more plain than this? God speaks out loud from heaven so that everyone in Jerusalem hears what he has to say. In terms of who Jesus is and why he came, this ought to settle any questions that anyone might have once and for all. Full stop. End of story. Case closed.

Although the people of Jerusalem all experienced the same event, they interpreted it differently, very differently. There were three basic reactions. Some people put a naturalistic spin on the noise they had heard and concluded that it was thunder. Those in the crowd with a superstitious or mystical bent believed that an angel had spoken. Their focus was not so much on what was said, but on the spiritual experience they had had. Fortunately, there were some truth-lovers in the crowd who were honest and humble enough to let the evidence speak for itself. These people recognized that God had indeed spoken, and his message was of life and death importance. Jesus recognized the sober truth that the way one interpreted this cosmic event was going to seal their fate. “This voice has come for your sake, not mine. Now is the judgment of this world…” (John 12:30-31)

I marvel at the profound psychological insight contained in this short passage. Although we like to pretend that we perceive reality correctly and interpret it objectively, the truth is far different. In the words of Simon & Garfunkel: “A man hears what he wants to hear and disregards the rest…” The Boxer (1970). We see only what our internal narrative permits us to see. In other words, we see with our hearts. And because our hearts are deceptive and evil, we fail to see clearly (Jeremiah 17:9-10). We often see what isn’t there and fail to see what is. We can’t hear God’s voice even when he thunders at us from heaven. We are so blind that we fail to see the Light of the World standing directly in front of us.

As I type these words, I’m trembling. Is it possible that God is speaking and I am dismissing his voice because it doesn’t fit my personal narrative? Is it possible that I’m hearing only what I want to hear and disregarding the rest? Is it possible that I am self-deceived about what is true and what is not? These thoughts terrify me. And quite frankly, I’m hoping they will terrify you as well; that they will cause you to look in the mirror and question whether you are walking in truth or perhaps only walking in your perception of what you think truth is.

The only way to ensure that we will not be deceived is to be humble enough to recognize our pig-headed arrogance and wise enough to know what idiots we really are. The frightening truth is that we don’t know what we don’t know. Those who are deceived don’t know it. And to be deceived about deception is to be lost without hope of ever being found. Paul said it well: "If anyone imagines that he knows something, he does not yet know as he ought to know.” (1 Corinthians 8:2)

I’ve come to believe that the defining moment for the disciples occurred during the Last Supper. Jesus had just announced that one of them would betray him. Knowing the disciples as I do, I can picture Peter leaning forward and asking, “Lord, is it Matthew?” Or John saying, “Lord, is it Thomas?” On this night, however, after three years of theological education with the greatest teacher who ever lived, the disciples had finally learned how ignorant they were. They were holy enough to know what sinners and scumbags they were. They could see well enough to know how blind they were. So, on this night they asked Jesus a question they had never asked before: “Lord, is it I?” (Mark 14:18-19)

Wisdom begins where self-deception ends.

Print Blog