My car is my safe place (other than that of the place that’s in God’s arms). I lock the doors so I know no one can get in and I can sing and sing because no one really watches other people in cars. Until yesterday. I was driving down Texas (equivalent to Buffalo Gap in Abilene or Main Street in insert town name here) crossing University (equivalent to South 14th in Abilene or Washington Avenue in insert town name here) and I noticed someone who was stopped at the red light actually paying attention to me. Not my sweet ride, but actually me. Now, if you drive, you know that when you’re stopped at a red light, generally, you don’t look at the drivers, just the car. I am almost tempted to say that this applies for all driving. When someone is passing you, you usually don’t know if the driver is a boy or a girl, you just know the color of the car. Anyway, when this guy did this, I felt two things: uncomfortable and vulberable. Sometimes I forget people can see into my car.

So the story goes. We know there are cars on the road and we avoid contact with them at all costs. We see them as cars, not driver operated vehicles. We’ve become accustomed to not looking at  the people in them; just the outside.

Christians, we know the world is hurting and we avoid contact with it at all costs (because it’s painful, uncomfortable, and what they’re doing is wrong). We see those people the image they present, not who they actually are. We’ve become accustomed to not looking for the deeper hurts; just what’s on the outside.

This is present in our churches. People come in, sit in the pew, listen to the sermon, say “I’m good”, and we believe them but inwardly, they are torn.

This is present in our schools. People come in, sit in the desk, listen to the sermon, brag about their various expeditions from the past weekend, and we think they’re prideful but inwardly, worry about a parent’s divorce is eating away.

This is present at our jobs. People come in, sit in their cubicle, do what they’re told, eat lunch, get back to work, and leave approximately five minutes after 5 pm and we assume they’re fine because they don’t cry or get angry or boast but inwardly, they want to know someone cares about them.

Beloved children,

It’s time for you to snap out of this staring and ignoring the world. People are hurting and they need someone to care. It’s time to step up to the plate. You’re up.

Love, God