Aramaic Word of the Day - ܚܙܳܐ — (hzo) (to see, to perceive, to discern)

“The God Who Makes You See Again”

Its root, Ḥ–Z–Y, carries the meaning of seeing with understanding, perceiving reality as it truly is, not as fear imagines it. In the Semitic worldview, “to see” is more than visual; it is spiritual discernment, the moment when God opens your internal eyes.

Western thinking tends to treat “vision” as personal strategy. Eastern thinking treats it as divine revelation. This helps illuminate moments like John 9, where Yeshua heals the man born blind. After restoring his sight, Yeshua asks a deeper question: “Do you see the Son of Man?”The issue was not only the man’s physical blindness, it was that he needed divine help to discern who stood before him.

The Aramaic sense behind ḥzā teaches us: You may have eyes, yet lack sight; and you may walk in darkness, yet be on the verge of revelation.

So let me speak this to your heart today: If you feel unsure, confused, or unable to discern your path, you are not failing. You are simply standing in that sacred moment before sunrise, the moment when God prepares your eyes for the light He is about to reveal. In the Middle Eastern imagination, clarity does not come when you strive harder; it comes when God says, “Now you will see.” Trust that He is shaping your inner vision even now. The light will come. It always comes on the God-timed horizon.

Another Eastern example the Sun is always bright and shining and present but when we close our eyes by our choice we do not see the Sun, the does not mean it does not exist still we can feel the heat of the Sun, even if our eyes are in Darkness and we deny its existence. The Sun is always present even if we decide to close our eyes and do evil.

I remember standing at the top of Mount Arbel, surrounded by the groups I was guiding, as the first light of dawn began to touch the Sea of Galilee. It is always a quiet moment up there men and women from different nations suddenly becoming still as the sun rises over the water where Yeshua once walked, taught, and restored broken hearts. Below us, the fishermen’s boats looked like tiny specks moving across the surface, just as they have for centuries. And as the light grew stronger, the ridges, paths, and hidden contours of the land slowly emerged details that just moments before were invisible in the dimness.

This is usually when I turn to my groups and say, “Don’t just look at the view see it.”I tell them to look past the surface beauty, past the postcard moment, into the inner layers that speak to the soul. “See this land the way Yeshua saw it,” I say. “Not with Western eyes that seek information, but with Semitic eyes that seek revelation.” Because in the Middle East, we do not separate the land from the lesson. The landscape itself becomes a teacher, a parable, a mirror in which God shows us our own hearts.

Standing there, I realized how many of us walk through seasons when nothing ahead of us seems visible the next step, the solution, the purpose, the hope. In Western thinking, clarity is something you are expected to force into existence, something you must craft from your own reasoning or emotional stability. But in the ancient Semitic world, clarity is not a product of effort; it is a gift. It is something given, not manufactured. Light is not something you create it is something that arrives, gradually revealing what was already there.

Just as the sun slowly unveiled the hidden lines of the Galilee, God unveils the hidden lines of our stories. You do not generate clarity; God enables you to see. And the moment your eyes adjust to His light, what once felt confusing begins to take shape. The path was there all along you just needed dawn to come.