I HAVE BEEN FRAMED!!!

Have you ever stopped in the middle of a busy day, maybe dealing with work emails, kid chaos, or the never-ending scroll of social media, and thought, "Whoa, how does my brain even do this?" I mean, really. We are these complex groups of neurons, microtubules, feelings, and strange habits that move through a world that is both beautiful and confusing. Psalm 139:14 really hits me head-on in times like these that says, "I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well." (NIV) That's us, fearfully and wonderfully made. Not just our bodies, which can heal themselves, but also our minds. How do we think, see, and understand it all? It's like looking at a cosmic work of art made by the greatest artist ever.

But here's where it gets interesting (and a little mind-trippy). "Sorry, but I am a 70's child :)". Our brains have "frames" built in that help us stay alive and change what we see, or don't see. The "frame problem" is a philosophical idea that asks, "How do we choose what is important in a sea of endless details?" We'd be overwhelmed by too much information if we didn't have some kind of mental limit. Our brains are made to frame things, which means they focus on the important parts and ignore the rest. It's effective and necessary for survival, but it's also why we sometimes miss the big picture. This reminds me that we are divinely made, even with all of our imperfections.

Let me show you a simple example. I love the stars. I have gotten up in the early morning hours to watch lunar eclipses. I have lain outside on a lawn chair, especially when my son was young, and watched with him the streams of fire streak across the night sky in August during the annual Perseids Meteor Showers. It’s wonderful and otherworldly. So, picture yourself looking through a powerful telescope on a clear night. You can see through it the galaxies that spin, the stars that twinkle, and the universe that stretches out like a heavenly scroll. You can observe objects that are invisible to the human eye. And you see "through" the telescope, using its lenses to make things clearer.

But what about the telescope? You don't "see" IT right then. It's just there, an unseen partner in your awe and reverence. Now, take a step back. Take your eye off the eyepiece and look at the instrument itself. All of a sudden, it's a cold, mechanical thing with lenses, tubes, and dials. You can look at it, play with it, and even admire how well it is made. But when you use it, you forget about "IT." It frames your reality without drawing attention to itself. This is what the frame problem looks like in action.

These cognitive frames, such as schemas, biases, and contexts, are like mental "telescopes" that help us focus on the "important" things, like the predator in the bushes, the deadline on the desk, or the smile of a loved one across the room. Life would be impossible without them. Every leaf rustling and every pixel on the screen would be too much for us to handle. When we frame something, we block out everything else and focus on what's important for the task at hand. It's a gift from our wonderfully God-made design, which is efficient and adaptable in a broken world.

But the Bible pushes us to go even deeper. In 1 Corinthians 13:12, Paul says, "For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known." (KJV) That "glass darkly" is like a telescope for our minds. It's blurry and incomplete, and it makes our view look like it's full of spots or dark clouds blocking out the sunlight of understanding. We see truth, beauty, and even the divine, but it's not all there.

The frame problem is similar in that our mental limitations are useful but not perfect. They help us get through the present by focusing on survival, relationships, and purpose, but they hide the big picture. We can't see the "telescope" of our biases or blind spots until we take a step back, think about it, pray for clarity, or see something that breaks the frame. And that's the scary but wonderful part. We can do just that. We have the ability to challenge our perceptions, alter our perspective, and seek a clearer perspective. Think about it in real life. You're talking to a friend and paying attention to what they say and how they say it, and not the traffic passing by or your stomach growling in the background. That is the essence of empathy and the manner in which love endures, even when obstacles arise. But if the frame is too rigid (like when past hurts and offenses color everything), we miss the grace that is right in front of us. Or we can allow our experiences, the Bible, and our community to shape how we see God, and through that glass, we can see His wonders. But Paul reminds us that this is only a partial view until we arrive in eternity, when the frame breaks down and we see God and each other face to face.

So, the next time you're amazed by a sunset or trying to make a tough choice, remember that you were made with fear and wonder. Your mind's frames are part of the miracle. They help you focus on a gigantic universe. But remember to pause, take a step back, look at the lens, and thank the Creator of all things. Because when we look at it that way, we can see not only through the glass but also beyond it, into His marvelous light.

What do you think? Have you ever had a "frame shift" moment that changed everything? I'd love to hear what you have to say.