On Seeing

She speaks loudly for a group that I dismiss too easily.

I wave my hand and declare them narrow-minded.

Too worried about “bringing Jesus back to America” and not worried enough about the poor and marginalized that yell to me on the pages of the sacred text we share.

I realize how judgy this looks in print.

I’m sure it’s probably one hundred times more judgy in my head.

In my heart.

In any case, we are talking about how Jesus sees.

He looks at a blind beggar (John 9), at a grieving mom (Luke 7)

And his heart swells with compassion.

Instead of averting his gaze and walking by, he stops.

He moves toward.

He sees.

He feels compassion.

He moves toward.

She speaks loudly for a group that I dismiss too easily.

And this morning, she sees me wrangling a toddler.

Perhaps, too, she sees my visceral response when my pastor talks about the church walking alongside the Little Ones.  And their mamas and daddies.

In any case, she sees.

She speaks gently to me.

And in the two minutes between when the service wraps up and when I begin the frantic rush to gather my littles, she offers real, practical help to this single mama.

I almost want to hear a patronizing tone in it (there I go with my judgy self again).

But there is none.

Just kindness.

Compassion.

And grace.

From one who speaks loudly for a group that I dismiss too easily.

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