Seeing the Other | With New Eyes

In the last year I have entered what seems like a whole different world. It is a world of “The Other.” It has been strange, unpredictable, unsettling, frightening, full of emotional earthquakes, beyond all reason, eye-opening, anger-stirring, empathy-producing …and a stimulus for many, many questions that most often don’t have answers. I’m talking about the world of mental illness.

I saw a man wandering stark halls with very short, jerky but determined steps, as if he had some important place to go. He was bent slightly forward at the waist and stared straight ahead with intense blue eyes. I don’t think I ever saw him blink. He wandered into the room where we were sitting, came right up to me within a foot of my face and just stared, stared and stared right at me. Awkwardly, I said, “hello.” He said nothing in response, there was not the slightest change in his face or posture. There was no sense that he really saw me, though his eyes were open wide. Then the caregiver came and took him away.

I saw a man who was quite bent over and held his head at an angle, looking up. He walked up and down the hall, trying every door handle. I was sure he was trying to get in to steal something. I never saw him go in a room.

I saw a woman locked in a room with terrified eyes like a caged wild animal. She had been physically combative with staff and security and was ready to fight off any other living soul that came near her. She perceived everyone as a threatening enemy. She kind of clawed at the walls and then cowered in a corner.  

I saw a very clean-cut man with perfectly oiled and combed hair and neat clothing. He sat staring for hours at a television screen which was only displaying the titles of songs being played on that music channel. But there was no music, or sound of any kind coming from the TV. Once I saw him doing a kind of jogging routine, barely moving his feet but steadily, if extremely slowly, moving down the sidewalk.

I saw a woman pace the halls back and forth, never saying a word, with a constant look of subtle suspicion on her face. It was not fear, but just a look as if she were a spy in a strange and dangerous foreign land.

I saw a very unkempt and dirty man walking the halls, yelling obscenities and indeterminate gibberish at no one in particular. He sounded angry and looked dangerous even though you couldn’t tell what he was saying.

I saw a woman in a wheelchair who could never find the bathroom, though she had lived in this house for years.

I saw a woman with way too much makeup, applied in the wrong places like a child who couldn’t paint within the lines. She raced up and down the halls.

I saw a man always sitting in the same chair, away by himself but where he could see everyone else. He had the kindest smile on his face and always waved when you passed by. He told me one day, “You gotta do your best every day. You gotta keep a positive attitude.” He could barely walk.

At first I was very unnerved by these people. For sure there was some behavior I don’t even want to write about here. These are the kind of people who, if I saw them coming down the street, I might cross to the other side or at least keep my head down or eyes fixed straight ahead so as not to engage them. They were too unpredictable. What would I say? What could I say? Would they have a sinister motive if they confronted me? Their conditions raised in me so many thoughts…and sometimes subtle, sometimes not so subtle, judgements against them.

I am ashamed of this now.

And why? What has changed in me? This is hard for me to understand and explain, but I do know one thing that has made a deep impact:

I learned that the man who stared at me with the unseeing, piercing, crystal blue eyes was a professional soccer player from Europe in his youth. He sustained brain damage from hitting so many headers in the hundreds of soccer games he played.

I learned that the bent over man checking door handles was a former “fix it” guy who still went through the motions of trying to see how something worked mechanically.

I learned that the silent suspicion-filled woman was actually Russian and couldn’t speak any English. She was doubly isolated in a silent world.

The unkempt man shouting obscenities had been a poor farmer who fell off a tall piece of machinery he was working on, and fell to the ground, landing on his head. He had been living at this house where I met him for 4 years and I was told he would never hurt a fly. And he loved animals.

The woman in the wheelchair has cancer as well as dementia.

And one of these people is my wife.

Everyone has a story. Everyone has a history. Everyone has a family. A childhood. A series of experiences, some good, some bad. I think most people have experienced some kind of trauma or loss in their lives, certainly some more than others. Good things happen to bad people. Bad things happen to good people. Why is this? Can we really know, this side of heaven? With so few answers to these kind of questions, how do we proceed? How do we view “The Other”? How do we interact with them? How do we deal with all the uncertainties?

I don’t know. All I can say is I have been reduced to a kind of compassion I’ve never experienced before. I have learned that if I just look at a person’s outward appearance and behavior, I will see them as objects to defend myself against. If I learn some of their story, I can get at least a bit of a glimpse into their humanness and relate to them there. I no longer see them quite so much as “The Other.”

1 Corinthians 13:12
For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

Matthew 7:1-2
Do not judge, or you too will be judged. For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.

Matthew 5:3-4
Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.

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About the Author

John has been an essential component to the life and development of CitySalt since 2004 and, presently, serves as an associate pastor with a focus on prayer, discipleship and spiritual direction in addition to being a regular part of the teaching team. He and his wife, Laura, have been married since 1977 and enjoy their family of three children and three grandchildren.

Seeing the Other | Love Looks Like Something

Thursday. The fourth grade classroom. You are headed in for your weekly time to help. You walk up and see a boy sitting alone outside in the hall where his desk has been moved. He has a really straggly mullet haircut, his jeans are too short, and he is slouched down. He’s obviously already pushed the teacher far enough to be removed from the class. You are tempted to think, “Phew, I don’t have to deal with him in my reading group today.”

Last week, he was late to your group. He was disruptive from the moment he sat down. He messed with the kid beside him, continually distracting everyone. When it was finally his turn to read, he read surprisingly well. His reading was clear and confident, until suddenly he seemed to lose interest. He began to mumble, and then switched to a funny voice all together. You gave him 2 warnings and then had to move on to the next reader, as he went back to banging his feet against the leg of the table.

He’s on your child’s soccer team. The parents constantly rumble about him. He is overly aggressive and can’t seem to really control his body. He too often escalates to tears, which is frustrating, or anger, which honestly is concerning. Someone has to always have an eye on him. In practice or on the sidelines, he is pushing kids and distracting the team or sulking by himself. You watch him walk up and pretend to give your child a high five, and then kick him in the shin guard instead. Your child has already told you he hates when he does this.

He is awkward and never knows what to say. He is so moody. He is so much work. It is so tempting to wish he wasn’t in your child’s classroom, that you didn’t coach the soccer team, that you didn’t have to put in the time and patience it takes to just be around him.

But you know. You know his story. You know his Mom, whom you’ve never met, had 3 kids before him whom she lost to the state. You know that he was taken from her, for his safety, when he was just born. You don’t know her and realize your heart would probably break for her story too, but every day you see the impact of it on him. His Grandma has told you how he never sees her, and how he cries himself to sleep almost every night missing her. You watch as about twice a year he smiles all day, his face glowing, because she has promised to pick him up from school. And that she has always called and canceled right before school is out. You’ve seen his face as his grandma walks in to tell him the news. Disappointed once again.

You know. You know that earlier this year, she had another baby, whom she was able to keep. He doesn’t understand. Why can the new baby be with his Mom? Why does she want the baby and not him? And you know that in reading group, he was reading along with a strong voice until he came to the part talking about a Mom making a snack for her son. When he started reading that part, he couldn’t do it, and to hide his tears he started being disruptive and changed the subject back to his behavior yet again. That’s easier than the pain.

You know his Dad, who struggles with agoraphobia & PTSD, has such a fear of life and people and the world, that he doesn’t often leave his house. His Dad often gets triggered when he is out in public, and has outbursts that are scary and embarrassing for his son. The boy knows his Dad loves him, but can’t handle him. When he is with his Dad, he walks on eggshells.

He has been raised by his Grandma, who loves him and does her best, but is tired. She already raised her children, and has to work full time, and has health problems that limit her ability to move and erode her patience.  

And again, you know the result of this. You know he is heartbroken. You know he is also hard work. He is disruptive, and socially awkward. He doesn’t pay attention, he seems to want to get in trouble, and he is rarely approachable. You are tempted to avoid him, to be relieved when you don’t have to interact. To sigh in frustration when he is being difficult, and to be relieved when it’s time to leave him.

But you’ve known him since he started kindergarten with your child. You’ve seen glimpses, few and far between, of his heart. His tenderness used to leak through before he learned to cover it so well.  His sad tears used to fall before he learned to change the subject. He used to try, before the patterns and the self-defenses started kicking in, taking over automatically.

What will happen to him? It’s hard to say. The road he has started down is a tough one. And what can you do? You aren’t around him enough to have a major impact on his behavior. You know your direct influence on him is only here and there.

But you believe love looks like something.  

So you’ve prayed for him. You’ve asked God what He is doing, how you can partner with Him to love this child. You can’t “save him” and know you are limited. But God! God asks you to love the one in front of you, to see the other. And that is him. So what does that look like, you wonder?

And God has shown you. He told you to pay attention. And He showed you the gold He has put in even this child. You’ve seen, after someone walks away, the sulky defensive look lift off his face and sometimes he smiles. You’ve caught him daydreaming, and asked him what he thinks about. You’ve listened to his response. You have decided to relate to him at his potential, not his behavior, and you’ve seen him rise up to the challenge. You’ve noticed him, smiled at him, made sure to say hello to him by name. And it breaks your heart that these small, little acts of love have made a difference. You see the sponge of his heart soak them up, not always trusting them, but desperate to receive any drop. Desperate to believe he can be seen, he is valuable, that he is worthy of love. You’ve seen love at work. And it’s broken your heart and humbled you.

And God is so good. He’s also shown you how others are doing the same. God loves this child, and has surrounded him by people who are willing to see the other, to not disregard even this child. God has shown you that this child is not your responsibility, he is God’s, and that you get to trust that. But also you’ve seen the proof that love looks like something! And when we stop to see the other, the one in front of us, and we are willing to play a part in God’s love, that it matters!

Thank you, God, for giving us eyes to see the other. Let us live a life that sees the ones right in front of us. Thank You for this child. And for so many like him in the world. They are desperate for love. And love looks like something. Thank You that as we listen to you and are willing to say yes, that we can participate in love that makes a difference. Give us your heart for the one in front of us.  Thank You.

“Ministry, however, is simply loving the person in front of you. It’s about stopping for the one and being the very fragrance of Jesus to a lost and dying world.”  –Heidi Baker

John 15:12
“This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you.”

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About the Author

Pam is a fun and encouraging team-builder that brings the best to those around her. She loves young people and is committed to serving and mentoring kids with opportunities to grow closer to God and each other.  She joined our staff team in 2012 and oversees the ministry of ages from birth to eighth grade. Pam and her husband, Jared, have been married since 2005 and have three boys.