The Kind of Eyes I Need

It was 1991 and I was in college, sitting on the concrete floor of our community laundry room. Somewhere between soak and rinse and the spin cycle, my good friend and I began a beautiful discussion about God. We were talking about some of our deepest thoughts about Him when he turned to me and said, “Lisa, what do you think Jesus looks like?” I paused only briefly, and then answered…

“He has nice eyes.”

At that moment, I could see them in my mind...

Warm.
Deep.
Soulful.
Loving.
Kind.
And looking right back at me…

With compassion.

After several years of living in a state independent from God, I sure needed them. I had made many mistakes and fallen away from what I had always believed. Yes, compassion was the look I needed from my Lord then...and now.

So when my friend asked me to describe Jesus, there was nothing else I could use to describe His physical appearance other than His eyes. Maybe it’s because I love to look into people’s eyes. Eyes tell stories. Eyes describe feelings and emotions. Eyes give you a glimpse into someone’s heart and soul. Eyes are the most beautiful physical characteristic on a person I have ever seen, and I always notice them first. I’ve never seen a pair of eyes that weren’t absolutely beautiful.

Physically, when I think about looking into Jesus’ eyes, I see a warm hue of chocolately-brown. Though I have no proof, these are the color I imagine He wore. But when I visualize His eyes, I see much more than a color. I see a Savior who looks on me with love and compassion I don’t even come close to deserving.

Jesus has the kind of eyes the friends of the paralyzed man had in Luke 5.

“One day as he was teaching, Pharisees and religion teachers were sitting around. They had come from nearly every village in Galilee and Judea, even as far away as Jerusalem, to be there. The healing power of God was on him. Some men arrived carrying a paraplegic on a stretcher. They were looking for a way to get into the house and set him before Jesus. When they couldn't find a way in because of the crowd, they went up on the roof, removed some tiles, and let him down in the middle of everyone, right in front of Jesus. Impressed by their bold belief, he said, "Friend, I forgive your sins." That set the religion scholars and Pharisees buzzing. "Who does he think he is? That's blasphemous talk! God and only God can forgive sins." Jesus knew exactly what they were thinking and said, "Why all this gossipy whispering? Which is simpler: to say 'I forgive your sins,' or to say 'Get up and start walking'? Well, just so it's clear that I'm the Son of Man and authorized to do either, or both. . . ." He now spoke directly to the paraplegic: "Get up. Take your bedroll and go home." Without a moment's hesitation, he did it—got up, took his blanket, and left for home, giving glory to God all the way. The people rubbed their eyes, incredulous—and then also gave glory to God. (vs.17-25, The Message)

Those men had the kind of eyes I need.

The question is...do I have them?

I ran into a friend at the store a few weeks ago and nearly ducked into a nearby aisle so she wouldn’t see me. I didn’t have the time to “talk” and I knew she was going through a difficult time. But I justified it because I was on my way to teach Bible Study.

I saw a man at the mall recently, wheeling his way into a narrow doorway. I wanted to smile at him, but I didn’t want him to think I was patronizing him. So I quickly looked the other way.

I overheard someone talking in line at the post office about her husband who just recently lost his job. I thought about slipping her some money, but I only had a couple of dollars on me. Getting her information to send it to her would have just been a hassle, and I didn’t want to intrude.

I meant to send out an email this week to a woman from church who I know is suffering. But I just didn’t have the courage to reach out to someone who didn’t know me from Adam. I didn’t want to face rejection, if it came.

Eyes of compassion don’t count the cost, by the way. They don’t worry about time frames or agendas or reputation or what others will think of them. They don’t care about the ramifications or consequences of reaching out. They simply act. Out of love. Out of compassion.

Those are the kind of eyes I need.

Those are the kind of eyes I want my children to have for others.

Those are the kind of eyes Jesus looks at you...and me...with.

A recent conversation with my 5-year old little girl reminds me of the importance of having those same eyes.

Shae: Mom, I like helping people. I don’t know why God made me that way.

Me: It’s a big responsibility to help people, isn’t it?

Shae: Yep, it sure is. But I like it.

Having eyes of compassion is a big responsibility. It sometimes costs. Time. Money. Energy. Reputation.

But the payback is rich. Fulfillment. Joy. Peace. Satisfaction. Love.

And…

“They were all struck with astonishment and began glorifying God; and they were filled with fear, saying, "We have seen remarkable things today." (vs. 26)

…watching God do remarkable things.

Lisa