Seventy Years of Grace — Learning to See What the Father Is Doing

 

“The Son can do nothing of Himself, but only what He sees the Father doing.” — John 5:19 (NKJV)

For much of my walk with the Lord, I’ve been trained to recognise storms.

I’ve learned how to discern the enemy’s tactics, how to guard my heart, how to take responsibility for what God has put in my hands.

But recently the Lord has been showing me something different — something far quieter, yet far more central to living as a son:

I haven’t spent nearly as much time learning to see what the Father is doing.

Not the enemy’s noise.
Not my own fears.
Not what I want God to do.
But the gentle, steady work of the Father Himself.

As I reach seventy, this longing has become clearer:
I want to learn the Father’s rhythm.
I want to recognise His hand.
I want to see His activity in the world and in the lives around me.

And the surprising truth is this:
seeing the Father begins not with discernment, but with thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving — The Lens That Reveals His Hand

Before I even finished reflecting on all these things, I sensed the Lord say:

“That is the point of thanksgiving.
Thanksgiving lets you see what I am doing.
If you look for things to be thankful for, you will find My works.”

Thanksgiving is not a Christian courtesy.
It is spiritual eyesight.
You cannot give thanks for what the enemy is doing.
You cannot give thanks for imagined threats or future anxieties.
You cannot give thanks for your own striving.
You can only give thanks for what is real,
and what is real is what the Father has done
and what the Father is doing right now.

So thanksgiving pulls the eyes toward the Father’s movements.
It redirects attention from fear to peace,
from noise to Presence,
from speculation to truth.
Thanksgiving is the doorway into seeing.
With that foundation, three reflections have begun to form in me.

1. The Drill Square — Learning the Rhythm of Another’s Steps

My mind went back to my days in the Army, standing on the drill square.
As part of a marching squad, my focus was narrowed:
• the sound of the steps
• the swing of my arms
• the rhythm of the group
• the voice of the drill sergeant
I wasn’t scanning the horizon for danger.
I wasn’t trying to out-think the one in front of me.
I wasn’t trying to lead.
I simply kept in step with the one whose voice mattered.

That is what Jesus lived every day:

“My sheep hear My voice.”

And thanksgiving functions like that rhythm.
It tunes the heart to the Father’s cadence.
It steadies the pace.
It quiets the noise.
It becomes the “left… right… left…” of spiritual sight.

Thanksgiving teaches us not to strain our eyes,
but simply to stay in step.

2. The Police Survey — Choosing to See Peace Rather Than Threat

Yesterday I received a local police survey asking about crime in the area.
And as I read it, I realised it was subtly discipling me into fear, suspicion, and threat-awareness.

But when I looked around me, none of that matched my reality.
There was peace.
There was quiet.
There was the sense of being placed by God in His protection.

And again I sensed the Father’s whisper:
“Give thanks for where I have set you.”

Thanksgiving pulls the eyes away from what is wrong
and fixes them on where God is already doing something right.
It reveals His covering instead of the world’s chaos.

In that moment, the act of thanksgiving became the act of seeing.

3. Recognising His Hand by Learning His Heart

The third reflection was this:
one reason I sometimes fail to see God’s hand is because He is revealing new aspects of Himself I have not yet learned to recognise.

I have known Him as:
• Commander
• Protector
• Teacher
• Rescuer
• Provider
• Captain in the storm

But now He is showing Himself as:
The quiet Worker.
The Father whose movements feel like peace.
The One who shifts hearts without fanfare.
The Presence who whispers instead of shouts.

And thanksgiving is what attunes me to this quieter side of Him.

When I thank Him, I notice Him.
When I notice Him, I recognise Him.
When I recognise Him, I understand what He is doing.

Thanksgiving is the training ground of sight.

Thanksgiving as the Daily Practice of Seeing

All of this has drawn together into one truth:

Sight grows out of nearness.
Nearness grows from rhythm.
Rhythm grows from attention.
And attention grows from thanksgiving.

If I begin each day looking for things to thank the Father for,
I will find myself noticing the works of His hands in places
I previously walked past without seeing.

Thanksgiving makes the subtle unmistakable.
It makes the quiet clear.
It makes the Father visible.

And that is where I want to live —
in the place where gratitude becomes vision,
and vision becomes partnership with the Father’s work.

Closing Scripture

“In returning and rest you shall be saved;
In quietness and confidence shall be your strength.” — Isaiah 30:15 (NKJV)