And just like that, in an instant, an unanticipated fear filled my heart. I’ve gotten ahead of myself.  Let me take you back a bit. 

Last week, we got the chance to enjoy a week-long vacation at the beach.  It was glorious.  On one of our mornings there, I was sitting on the back porch watching two of my three children, our seven year old and two year old, play in the backyard.  They were exploring and having fun, so I allowed myself a brief moment to finish an article I’d been reading on my phone.  After a few minutes of reading, I looked up to see my seven year old making his way back to the porch. 

My two year old, however, was nowhere to be seen.  I sat up in my chair and casually examined the backyard, but didn’t see him.  I listened for the giggling that often accompanies his playtime, but heard nothing.

Slightly panicked, I stood from my chair a bit to get better glimpse of the yard, but I still could not see him.

Fear gripped my heart and menacing thoughts crossed my mind.

Earlier in the day I had opened up the back gate and I had no memory of closing it.  Had he slipped out of the fence?  Was he wandering through the field next door?  We’d been warned by a neighbor to watch for pygmy rattlesnakes and to not let the kids or our dog go running through the tall grass unaccompanied.

With my adrenaline now surging, I jumped towards the door and as soon as I took that first step towards the door, I saw him.  He was literally right in front of me, barely 10 feet from the porch door.

He had found something interesting in the grass, so being the inquisitive kid he is, he sat down to investigate.  What he had no way of knowing however, was the frame of the back porch was directly in my line of sight - between him and me.  Even though he was literally right in front of me, the frame of the porch created a blind spot that made it impossible for me to see him from where I was sitting.

From where I was sitting, he was gone. 

From where I was sitting, I could not see him.

From where I was sitting, I was convinced he was no longer in the backyard. 

And yet, as panicked and fearful as this brief exchange was, all it took was the slightest change of perspective for me to see this wasn’t actually the case.

Before I could see things as they were, I had to change. 

This experience got me asking some questions:

How many times have I drawn untrue conclusions based on what my vantage point has convinced me is true?  How many times do I judge people who can’t see what I see from where they’re sitting?  How many times do I question the character, integrity, theology, intelligence of people who don’t see the world the way I do?

Just because others don’t see what we see, doesn’t mean they don’t care.  It doesn’t mean they don’t think, it doesn’t mean they don’t matter; it may just mean they can’t see what we see from where they’re sitting.

We need to be careful not to judge people for not seeing what we see when they’re not sitting where we sit. 

Jesus put it this way saying, “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 7:1-2 (NIV)

We may not always know what someone else sees from where they’re sitting, but here’s the good news: we can learn.  We can seek to understand.  We can listen and ask questions. James 1:19 (NIV) says, “My dear brothers and sisters, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry.”

We’ll rarely, if ever, authenticate the truthfulness of the gospel by angrily invalidating the perspectives of others.  However, by seeking to better understand others, by being quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to anger, we may just gain the kind of understanding capable of helping someone see what they’ve never seen before, hear what they’ve been unable to hear, and find what they never knew they were missing – Jesus.

In order for me to realize what was actually happening in the backyard with my son, I had to change.  I had to move.  As followers of Jesus, we too must be willing to move, willing to change, willing to adjust our perspectives as well.  This isn't about rejecting doctrine and forsaking theology.  It's about imitating Jesus just as the scriptures command (1 Corinthians 4:16, Ephesians 5:1).  It's about being to the world what He's been and continues to be for us.

So, may we be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to anger, and as we try to better understand what others see from where they're sitting, may they see Christ in us and be transformed by the power of His love and kindness.