Before Ethan’s playoff game today, I went for a “jog” around a nearby park; it’s hard to call what I do “jogging”, but it’s faster than walking, so we’ll make me feel better by calling it “jogging.”
As I was “jogging” around this particular park, I noticed two flags that were in the center of Frisco Commons Park. From the east side of the park, the view was this:
A few minutes later, I took this picture of the view from the southwest corner of the park:
Another minute down the trail, and I climbed a small hill to take this pic:
What does it all mean? Sometimes, no matter how we look at something, there are obvious things that cannot be argued: the color of the flags, their relative size, the color of the sky, etc. To argue otherwise would be folly. Other things, we can infer: for instance, because the pictures were taken in North Texas, I could make an assertion that the wind must be blowing, although one can’t be 100% sure…maybe these flags were made out of cardboard or wood? Is that why they are horizontal? My experience would play a large role in determining my inference if I saw these pictures, but was not present when they were taken.
Based on my vantage point, though, there are assertions that I could make that would make no sense at all for someone in another location. Which flag stands taller, or is bigger? Are there even two flags?
Does our perspective depend on our geography? If so, what must it be like to move to the other side of the park, especially if your entire life experience has been rooted in only one location? Does my perspective from my location give me the right, or the authority, to dictate what others HAVE to see?
I don’t have these answers, but I am thankful that God has given me the opportunity to see a lot of things that I always assumed were true from another perspective.