Look and Love

I read this this morning from Paul Miller's book:

As I studied how Jesus loved, I was surprised by the number of times that Jesus looks at people. Altogether the Gospels mention Jesus looking at people about forty times. I was particularly struck by how often his compassion for people was preceded by his looking. Here is just a sampling: 

When he saw the crowds, he had compassion on them, because they were harassed and helpless,

 like sheep without a shepherd. 

(Matthew 9:36) 

Jesus looked at him and loved him. (Mark 10:21) 

When Jesus saw his mother there, and the disciple whom he loved standing nearby,

[he asks his closest friend, John, to take care of his mother]. 

(John 19:26-27)

“But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine” 

(Luke 10:33-34). 

The Samaritan sees, has compassion, and acts. The Samaritan sees a person. The priest and the Levite see a problem. They are too distracted, preoccupied, or agenda-driven to identify with him. Maybe they had neither the time nor the energy to be bothered by someone’s troubles.

We instinctively know that love leads to commitment, so we look away when we see a beggar. We might have to pay if we look too closely and care too deeply. Loving means losing control of our schedule, our money, and our time. When we love we cease to be the master and become a servant.

I read this this morning and thought, yes that is so right. I often do not really look and am driven by agenda or distracted by something else. I do know that love leads to commitment and it does cost to love. And it's the cost to my time that I find the hardest thing to give up. Take today: J had to stay home from work so I could drive out to a camp to collect a friend and her daughter who needed to see the doctor in town then when we'd seen the doctor (the whole process took hours) we drove back to the camp then to home. Yes, love hurts. I looked at this lady and got involved.

I don't say this to say look at me, I say it to share my struggles with the right and good command to look and love. This is a constant battle in my head. If I look too much or ask too many questions I might get involved in yet another person's life and needs. And there are just so many needy people around. I cannot possibly be driving around the countryside picking up every IDP who  needs to see a doctor. If  I look too  hard and get too involved I have nothing left to give my family, whether emotional or physical needs. I've sat through sermons telling me to love but my heart is  crying out, "How? What exactly does that look like?" It just makes me feel guilty for not doing more but knowing there's not much more I can do.

These really are a not very pretty or coherent splurge of thoughts coming out of my tired brain but as I spent the  morning with this lady I wanted to cry wondering how this can be done better. How can we truly love but wisely, realising that often when we say we need to be wise it can be an excuse for not helping. 

I don't have an answer and don't imagine getting one any time soon either. I am however thankful for the reminder this morning (from Miller's book) of the character of God:

Like the father in the parable about the Lost Son, God is waiting, looking, his eyes glued to the horizon searching for us. When he sees us, even though he is a dignified patriarch, he lifts up his garment and shamelessly gallops toward us, as we come trudging toward him with our load of guilt and despair. He wraps us in his arms and smothers us with kisses (Luke 15). This is not new behavior for God. He has looked at people with compassion for centuries. When the Israelites were enslaved, God said,

 “I have indeed seen the misery of my people in Egypt . . . 
and I am concerned about their suffering.”
(Exodus 3:7).