One of the first things I did with my kids was peek-a-boo. Sounds stupid, I know, but there was something magical about the notion that simply hiding my face behind my hands and then revealing it could elicit peals of laughter from my kids. Add in the ubiquitous adult-to-child voice inflection (you know, that creepy, high-pitched sing-song that we all do) and you have the recipe for some serious crazy.
It’s human nature, I suppose, to want to make your kids laugh. But the game also teaches them something important. Something that seems small, but is really huge.
It teaches them to see people. And that people see them.
So often, we go through life thinking that we’re invisible. Or that who we are doesn’t amount to much. Doesn’t matter how high we ascend in the world, there is a part of everyone that secretly wonders if anyone really notices us. Not what we do. Not what we say. But us. We crave validation, and when we don’t have it, we feel deprived. Poor.
We’re all beggars in that way. Some folks are a lot more public about their need, but we all have it. We all feel it. We sit, ostensibly on the periphery of life, and we watch the world pass by, wondering if anyone sees.
How wonderful it is, then, when someone does stop and take notice. Not because we made a mistake or did something wonderful to draw attention, but simply because we’re there. Like my children playing peek-a-boo, our faces light up when someone shows us their face, simultaneously seeing us and revealing themselves.
Take even a cursory stroll through the Gospels, and you discover that Jesus was a master at this. Blind people, lame people, even people lost in a sea of other needy people, He never failed to see the people who not just wanted to be seen, but needed to be seen. He saw them. He talked with them. He touched them. He healed them.
And in doing so, He changed them.
In the Gospel of John, Jesus says that we would do even greater works than He did. So often we feel like this is either A) an unfair standard we cannot possibly live by, or B) a gross overestimation of our potential. We think that way because we see the miracles Jesus did without seeing the miracles Jesus did. We get too caught up in the healing of blindness and lameness and deafness that we miss the greater miracle: that He saw them to begin with.
I mean, if you’ve seen Bruce Almighty you know how cluttered God’s inbox can be.
So the fact that the God-Man Jesus saw this particular blind man, and that particular lame man, and – wait a minute – someone in this crowd of hundreds touched me and power left my body, it was you, go because your faith has made you whole…well, it’s pretty astounding.
But even more so, because Jesus saw them, they saw Him. They saw God. And lived.
We can do that, show people the face of God, everyday of our lives if we’re willing to see the people around us. I happen to be blessed with co-workers who see me – and reveal themselves – on a regular basis. It’s a wonderful blessing. Borders on a miracle, actually.
Because in a world that’s so full of noise and turmoil, in a country and a culture that tells us we are better off tending to ourselves and leaving everyone else alone, there’s something profound when a person stops and says, “I see you. Can you see me?”
So let’s share a few miracles today. What do you think?