By Joy Adams
A few months ago, I was watching my older son, Jeremiah, as he and some of his friends were playing on the playground before school. Many of the First grade boys, my son included were all playing tag. Twice during their game, one of the little boys tripped and fell and both times my son, along with one of his classmates, both stopped to help the fallen boy. All the while, the rest of the group continued in their game, completely unaware that one of their friends had taken a tumble.
This was a proud mommy moment for me, to see my son helping another classmate, but it was also an eye opener for me as I watched essentially the same scene unfold twice, both times to be only seen by the same two boys.
During the school year, I volunteer in Jeremiah’s class weekly. I know most of his classmates and many of their families. All of the boys who were playing tag that day were good boys from good families. None of those boys would have purposely and callously continued their game without regard to their fallen friend, they just did not see him.
Time and time again in the Bible, Jesus says “He who has ears let them hear.” Watching my son with his classmates helped me to understand this scripture in greater depth. Often times we see or hear an injustice in the world or a problem that needs to be fixed, or a person who is hurting, and we think, “Why doesn’t anyone do anything about this?” In many cases, I believe, the simple answer is this, no one else even noticed.
When God allows us to see or hear things that no one else seems to notice, it is an invitation from God to partner with Him. Sometimes He wants us to take action, other times we are just called to pray, but regardless of what the correct response is, the reality is, once we see or hear it, we are responsible to steward it.
Last summer, our family was headed into San Francisco to explore one of their many local museums. To add to the fun, we traveled like the locals do, using BART (San Francisco’s version of a subway) and city buses. On this particular morning, while riding on the BART, I started to hear what sounded like a man sobbing somewhere behind me. I was hesitant to turn around to look at the man, because I did not want to engage with someone who might be mentally unstable or under the influence of an illegal substance. I asked my husband, who had a clear view of the man from where he sat, and who also works in mental health to tell me his assessment. My husband whispered his response, “grief”. In a BART train car, almost full to capacity, this man was uncontrollably weeping, with deep groans that cut at my heart. All the while, each passenger, myself included, stared straight ahead, refusing to look at, or even acknowledge this man’s presence.
Finally, I could take it no longer, I had to do something.
When I turned to see the man, he was much younger than I had imagined. He was probably around twenty-two years old and he looked like he was a body builder. From his appearance, he looked like he could easily get cast as a bouncer for a posh Hollywood night club or as a body guard. He was young, handsome, and strong, definitely the last person you would have guessed to be so vulnerably broken in a crowd of strangers.
I approached him and asked him if it would be alright if I prayed for him. He nodded his head, yes, and so I began praying for him. I placed my hand on his shoulder and asked for God to bring him peace. I asked God to intervene in whatever the situation was and for His love to have the final say.
As I prayed for him, I kept sensing that God was saying that the young man needed a mother’s hug. I told him that I felt like he needed a mother’s hug. I asked him how long it had been since he had been home to see his mom, and with new tears streaming down his cheeks, he said it had been “too long.” I asked him if he would accept a mother’s hug from me and he gladly accepted.
Right there, in a crowded BART car, I stood hugging a stranger with the love of a mother and I told him the things a mother should. I told him he was strong, I told him life was worth living, and I told him it was time for him to find his way back home.
Me praying for and hugging this young man, did not suddenly change his situation. Whatever the source of his grief, those realities were still present, but, he went from a man whose cry had been falling on deaf ears and who had been seemingly invisible in a crowded train, to a man who was both seen and heard. While his situation had not changed, his demeanor had. It was evident in his face and body language that some of the weight of his grief had lifted.
I share this story because we all have circumstances in our lives in which we are confronted with a need, and often we feel like we are surrounded by people way more qualified than us to handle the problem. We become frustrated and even angry when no one else seems to even notice. My husband is a Marriage and Family Therapist, surely he should have been the one to approach the young man, but no, it was me who was filled with compassion, which led me to act. What this young man needed in the moment was not a trained therapist, he needed a mother’s love.
“…Blessed are the eyes which see the things you see; for I tell you that many prophets and kings have desired to see what you see, and have not seen it, and to hear what you hear, and have not heard it.”
Luke 10:23-24 (NKJV)
What is it that you see, that tugs on your heart and your emotions? What do you hear that ignites a fire within you? We often, myself included, get frustrated and even feel powerless, when we see and hear of problems all round us and seemingly no one is doing anything about it. We feel powerless, but we are not. The very fact that we see and hear is in fact a privilege and a blessing. It is an invitation to care, to respond, to act in love in harmony with the author of love, Jesus Christ.
I am beginning to realize that I am the steward of what I see and hear. When I take notice of someone or something in a public place, or I hear something that resonates with me, I am beginning to recognize that these moments are little invitations to partner with God to love, heal, and restore the broken and forgotten people, systems, and things of this life.
I am not accountable for all the problems of this world and neither are you, but we are accountable to steward the things that we see and hear with love.
My challenge to you, stop worrying about the inaction of others. Instead, take ownership of what you see and respond in love.
Photo by Arthur Humeau on Unsplash
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