Today I slow-rolled up to a stop sign, hit the gas and planned to keep on going until… I saw a mini-van in the intersection crossing in front of me. It wasn’t a close call. I saw it in plenty of time. No harm.
Once I actually stopped and carried on I thought to myself about how I did not see the van the first time I surveyed the other three stops, which is why I had decided to slow-roll through the stop in the first place. I didn’t see it. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t there.
How many people do I see through on a daily basis? I’m not talking about people I can’t see. I’m talking about those folks right in front of me. How often do I see right through them because I have somewhere else to be or I’ve already determined my course of action and hit the go button?
One of the myths perpetuating much of the world’s injustices comforts us with the belief that if we can’t see people hurting, aching, and suffering under the weight of an imbalanced world then they’re not really there. And perhaps Lent is a quick flash of the sun reflecting off the minivan we’re about to run into reminding us that maybe our eyes aren’t always giving us the real picture.