The shortest distance between two people is a story.
Patti Digh
I went on one of the most interesting train rides of my life yesterday. You know what made it different from every other trip I’ve ever been on? I stopped and really saw the people around me. I listened, I talked and I shared life with people, most of whom I had never met before…
I think we’ve lost that, the ability to really see people, not just their appearance or their voices or their masks, but who they are underneath it all.
Our first instinct (admittedly mine as well) is to pull out our electronics and strive for connection. We search for human connection, but ignore the vast opportunities that sit, literally, right next to us.
Yesterday, we chose a different route. We became friends with a complete stranger and shared our stories, our opinions, our thoughts. We welcomed others into our conversations as well and thereby got to share in their lives. We listened to what happened around us and made ourselves aware. We prayed, we hurt for people and we asked God to show up. And He did. In the coolest of ways, we got to see the gospel presented and we started to wonder how many of these situations we have missed.
We went through a thousand things that, if they had happened, would have caused us to miss these moments:
If we had sat in our original seats
If we had put in headphones
If we had caught up on the sleep we lost all week
If we had not sat in silence at the end of the evening because we were tired and just listened to those around us
I’d be willing to bet that these opportunities have been far more present in my life than I realize. I have likely drowned many of them out with distractions. I’ve focused more on my technology, my work, myself, and chosen to isolate myself from those around me.
I don’t want that to be my life though. I want to see people, to hear their stories, and to care. I want them to see Jesus through the intensity with which I genuinely listen and care about them. I want to be a representation of the way that He chooses to invest in our lives though He doesn’t have to in any way.
So this morning, I started fresh, again. I decided to be gentle with other people’s stories and their hearts.
I walked into church and I saw people in a completely different way.
Instead of the single mom with the screaming toddler, I saw a strong woman who had undoubtedly spent all morning running and chasing an energetic child and still managed to get him to church. I didn’t see the mismatched socks, unwashed hair or tired eyes, I saw a woman who, with all of her might, invested in her child. A woman who cares about her child’s eternity and, even after the nightly bedtime battle, pulls out the juice stained child’s devotion book and reads to her baby. And then she kneels down on tired knees and teaches her baby to pray, through countless interruptions and giggles and rejoices the first time he says a prayer on his own, even if he is asking God for more cookies tomorrow.
Hey mom, it’ll pay off. Those sleepless nights, hurried mornings and every time you answered “why” just one more time. You are raising a world-changer; stay in the fight, you will both survive and your hard work will pay off.
Instead of the older woman with wrinkles and a worn demeanor who sat down alone, I saw a woman who has spent countless night on her knees praying that just once, her husband would come with her. I saw the marks of a thousand laughs gently grazing the sides of her face. She doesn’t give up, or get bitter, she just goes home and loves him well, shows him grace and prays again. She comes back each Sunday, sits alone and praises the God in whom she finds the strength to get up and face a broken marriage every day.
I see you, oh tired soul, I do. I stand with you and I pray with you. And I believe, I really do, that one day he will come around. Keep loving well, keep praying.
In the troubled teen, I see potential. In the tired businessman, I see the dad who works hard to provide for his family. All of a sudden, people have stories and I am intrigued. I care deeply and I desire to know them and to help carry their burdens with and for them.
This, this is the attitude I want to mark my life. I want to know a thousand stories and to learn to handle people’s hearts and lives gently.
I wonder how much would change if we all really loved this way. It’s hard to hate someone when you understand where they’re coming from.
This morning, I heard my first sermon on lent. The pastor encouraged us to look at lent differently this year and to worry more about what we were moving toward than what we were moving away from.
This is what I want to move toward this year- not for the next 40 days, but for the next 40 years. I want to move towards the eyes of Christ, towards knowing other’s stories and loving them well.
“Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.”