Note what sort of a look it is which produces these blessed effects.  The word which the Apostle employs here is a more pointed one than the ordinary one for ‘seeing.’  It is translated in other places in the New Testament, ’Mark’ them which walk so as ye have us for an ensample, and the like.  And it implies a concentrated, protracted effort and interested gaze.  A man, standing on the deck of a ship, casts a languid eye for a moment out on to the horizon, and sees nothing.  A keen-eyed sailor by his side shades his eyes with his hand, and shuts out cross-lights, and looks, and peers, and keeps his eyes steady, and he sees the filmy outline of the mountain land.  If you look for a minute, not much caring whether you see anything or not, and then turn away, and get your eye dazzled with all those vulgar, crude, high colours round about you here on earth, it is very little that you will see of ‘the things that are not seen.’  Concentrated attention, and a steadfast look, are wanted to make the invisible visible.  You have to alter the focus of your eye if you are to see the thing that is afar off.

There has to be a positive shutting out of all other things, as is emphatically taught in the text by putting first the not looking at ‘the things that are seen.’  Here they are pressing in upon our eyeballs, all round us, insisting on being looked at, and unless we resolutely avert our eyes, we shall not see anything else.  They monopolise us unless we resist the intrusive appeals that they make to us.  We are like men down in some fertile valley, surrounded by rich vegetation, but seeing nothing beyond the green sides of the glen.  We have to go up to the hill-top if we are to look out over the flashing ocean, and behold afar off the towers of the mother city across the restless waves.  Brethren, unless you shut out the world you will never see the things that are not seen.

Now, as I have said, the Apostle regards this conscious effort at bringing ourselves into touch, in mind and heart and faith, with ’the things that are not seen’ as being a habitual characteristic of Christian men.  I am very much afraid that the present generation of Christian people do not, in anything like the degree in which they should, recreate and strengthen themselves with the contemplation which he here recommends.  It seems to me, for instance, that we do not hear nearly as much in pulpits about the life beyond the grave as we used to do when I was a boy.  And, though I confess I speak from limited knowledge, it seems to me that these great motives which lie in the thought of Eternity and our place there, are by no means as prominent in the minds of the Christian people of this generation as they used to be.  Partly, I suppose, that arises from the wholesome emphasis which has been given of late years to the present day, and this-side-the grave effects of Christianity, upon character and life.  Partly it arises, I think, from the half-consciousness of being surrounded by an atmosphere of scepticism and unbelief as to a future life, and from the most unwise, inexpedient, and cowardly yielding to the temptation to say very little about the distinctive features of Christianity, and to dwell rather upon those which are sure to be recognised by even unbelieving people.  And it comes, too, from the lack of faith, which, again, it tends mightily to increase.