I was strolling down the brick walkways of my college campus one evening, absorbed in my own train of thought as usual, when I passed a woman. This is not surprising, as I had probably passed fifty people already on my way to dinner (everyone was outside taking advantage of the warm spring-like weather), but for some reason, this woman stuck out to me. I had seen her several times before, and even herd her speak on behalf of the school at several campus events, but until this moment, I had never really paid attention to her. She looked to be about 35, with short, cropped blond hair and glasses. Although she was short and slender, she carried herself with an air of authority befitting her attire. Dressed in professional slacks and an elegant yet sophisticated blouse and carrying her suit coat, she bustled briskly past me, towards the parking lot at the back of campus.
I wonder where she is going, I thought to myself. I hope she is heading home, because she looks really tired. Suddenly my curiosity kicked in and my mind began reeling with thoughts of the endless possibilities for what this woman’s life looked like. If she is going home, what kind of home is she going to? Perhaps she lives in a big two-story house in a bustling neighborhood with green grass and color coordinated doors. She will walk into her doorway and be almost knocked over by her 5-year-old twin daughters who cling to her legs, one holding up a picture of a dog she painted in art that day while the other is tugging on her mom’s pant-leg asking what is for dinner. As she extricates herself from their grasp, her husband comes around the corner, grinning from ear to ear. ‘thanks for picking up the girls’ she will say, as she plants a kiss on his check and moves into the kitchen to start dinner.
But who’s to say she is married? Perhaps she lives in a small brick house a little of the main road. As she pulls into the driveway and starts unloading the groceries which she stopped to pick up on the way, she can hear her dachshund barking excitedly from in the house. Perhaps she is planning to spend the evening with friends, sipping glasses of wine on the bar stools in her kitchen and chatting while they wait for the lasagna to come out of the oven. They talk about work and family, about the vacation they are saving up to take, about their mother-in-law’s famous chili recipe, about their recent visit to the vet after their poodle consumed an entire bar of soap, and any other topic crosses their minds. As she laughs with her friends, does she have fleeting feelings of wistfulness for a family of her own?
Or maybe, when she walks into her home, it is not the barking of dogs, nor the laughter or friends, nor the embrace of family that greets her, but silence. There is an audible empty ‘clink’ as she sets her bag down and tosses her key in a bowl by the door to her apartment. On her way down the hall to her bedroom, where Netflix and leftover takeout are waiting, she pauses, picking up a framed photo of her fiance in his military uniform. She sighs. She hasn’t seen him for three months, since he was deployed overseas, and his absence is all too tangible. Instead of continuing down the hall, she sinks into a chair and pulls out his most recent letter, reading it over again, though she knows it by heart.
On and on my thoughts wandered, living her life vicariously through the stories I had created for her. Did I think way to much about her? Yes. Should I have obsessed over the home life of a person I didn’t even know? Probably not. But that doesn’t mean her story didn’t matter. Even though I still do not know who she is and I have not seen her in a couple weeks, I still think of her occasionally, and I say a short prayer for her. I may not know what her life is like, but God does. He is intimately concerned with the highs, lows, and in-betweens of this woman’s life, and every other life on earth. The saddest thing is that we as his followers seem to forget that we are called to care about people like He does.
I will be the first to admit that I am not always the best at thinking of others. As you may have already guessed, I am often so consumed by my own thoughts and plans that I miss moments that I could be using to give hope to people, to share a smile or start a conversation. As I mentioned earlier, This woman was only one of almost 50 people I passed on my way to dinner, people who each have their own stories, hopes, dreams, fears, and struggles. I know it is not realistic for me to think that I could express care for all of these people, because unlike God, I do not have infinite time and capacity for love. However, couldn’t I make time to clear away my thoughts, pay attention, and share a moment with at least one of these people? Can’t I at least take a few moments to ask the janitor I pass every day about her day? Can’t I leave a kind note on my professor’s door when I find out she’s out sick? Can’t I learn the name of the dinning hall greeter I pass as I go to lunch?
I believe that sometimes we miss great opportunities to reveal to people that God cares because we couldn't care less.
The problem is, caring for people isn’t always convenient. It wasn’t convenient for a group of friends to break through a roof to get their paralyzed friend to Jesus. It wasn’t convenient for Jesus to heal a woman with blood problems on his way to save a dying girl. And it certainly wasn’t convenient for the disciples to preach the gospel in the face of imprisonment and torture. Yet they did it anyway. Jesus never said, “love your neighbor if……” or “love your neighbor, unless…..” No. we are commanded to care for the people that God brings us into contact with, regardless of our situation, or theirs.
While I may not be the best at paying attention to people or valuing them in the caring manner that I should, I have a friend who does. He is always making time for others, and he is one of those people whom you know you could call at any time of the day or night if you needed help. Just a few nights ago, he showed me what it means to care when it isn’t convenient.
Like many other schools, our University had just announced that they were shutting down because of the Corona virus, and therefore everyone had to move off campus and go home. As soon as he found out, my friend was understandably devastated, because his home life isn’t great and he didn’t know where he was going to go. I was also upset, but only because I had to pack all my stuff up and leave my friends. After complaining to each other for a few minutes, he disappeared, and I assumed he had gone off to pack his stuff up and figure out where he was going to stay for the month that campus was closed. However, when we met back up later, I found out that he had spent his evening in a different way. While we were talking he had started thinking about several other people he knew whose home lives were just as bad or even worse than his, and so he spent the rest of the evening reaching out to them, praying with them, encouraging them, and helping them find places to go. That is selfless love. That is kindness. That is really, truly caring for people like Jesus would.
I pray that we could all be a little bit like my friend and a lot like Jesus in the way we view others. When people pass, let us not see them as just human beings coexisting with us, but as people for whom Jesus died, real people with real stories and real lives. And most of all, may we not continue living like we don’t care, but instead pursue opportunities to show love!
Soli Deo Gloria 