The U.S. Open came to town this week, and I couldn’t be more excited. I’m not a huge sports fan, but the 2-week tennis tournament in Flushing, Queens, is the one sporting event I make an effort to attend every year.
I usually go with my sisters or my friend Don, who’s also a tennis fan. For the past few years, without fail, we’ve always ended up with the worst seats possible! And this year was no different.
On Tuesday evening, we huffed and puffed our way up to Row V of Arthur Ashe Stadium. When we finally reached the top, we collapsed into our seats, which happened to be awkwardly situated in the corner section facing the court diagonally. Or, as I joked, the armpit of the stadium.
“One day,” I told Don, pointing to the seats directly overlooking the court, “we’re gonna sit over there.”
Despite our end-of-the-alphabet seats, though, we still had a pretty incredible view of the match.
“You only see one part of the game from down there,” Don reflected.
He was right. The courtside spectators probably had to move their heads back and forth quite a bit to keep up. But we could clearly see everything unfolding from both sides of the net. We never missed a moment of the action.
It struck me, sitting in those nosebleed seats, that God’s viewpoint is probably strangely similar. He can see the whole picture when it comes to our lives. The struggles we’re facing, but also the miracles waiting around the bend.
We’re the one with the limited perspective–we only see one part of the game. But God sees everything fully. Our past, present and future. All the wonders headed our way.
Maybe our seats in Row V weren’t so bad. In fact, next year, I might even look forward to the climb up those stadium steps. And for the chance to change up my perspective.
