I am a junk collector. I go from place to place to collect junk - bits and pieces. In the course of my travels, I have accumulated a vast treasure chest of junk. The name, junk collector, is a misnomer. I do not consider the bits and pieces that I collect to be junk. I deem them highly valuable. It is my neighbors. They scoff at what I collect. They call it junk. They laugh at me when I try to share my junk with them. I tell them I want to make them rich. They snigger and tell me to keep my junk. I tell them that it will make them wealthy beyond their wildest dreams and they look at me as if I am crazy. Maybe I am.
Maybe it is crazy to search for God. Maybe I am a lunatic for trying to find Him. I travel from holy place to holy place looking for Him. In the course of my exploration, I find bits and pieces of the mystery, majesty and magnificence of God - potsherds of God. I put them in my wagon. My wagon bulges with the bits and pieces. To me, they are more valuable than diamonds, rubies, pearls and golden coins. To my neighbors, they are junk. They want nothing to do with my junk.
How can the same things be seen so differently?