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“Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.”  –Plato

It’s always been difficult for me not to get impatient with others; to remember the humanity and the struggles that bind us all together. It’s much easier to think that I’m special–more skilled, smarter, a better driver–and that this entitles me to treat others as if they are at best just obstacles for me to swerve around as I go about my life’s tasks. But what if instead my life’s tasks are nothing more than to stop, look into the eyes of the hurting, and listen to the lonely? What better mission is there than to genuinely care for another?

A wise teacher of mine once said: “You know, Jill, at all times everyone is doing the very best they are capable of.” I believe that now…do you? How easy is it to become frustrated with people who make poor decision after poor decision; how simple is it to condemn friends and family who don’t make the changes we feel they should make? I’ve found that if I take the time to really look at someone and realize their pain, it’s clear that they’re doing the best they can. The judgment doesn’t come so easily, then.

I’m struck by the perspective shift that occurs when I stop thinking of others as so different from me, and start realizing that we’re all just cells in a universal body. All of us are human, we all need Christ, we mess up and need to brush ourselves off, we need grace from each other.

My challenge to you this week is this: find a way–maybe just a small way–to show someone true compassion. Listen deeply, care genuinely, and smile at someone who doesn’t expect it. Life is tough, and we’re all in this together.

Lately I’ve been thinking a great deal about a word; a way of thinking differently about the people around me. Namasté. Translated literally, this greeting means “I bow to you.” In yoga, it’s used with the meaning “The light in me honors the light in you.” To me, it’s a great reminder that God has created and deeply loves each of the faces–both new and familiar–I encounter every day.

I’m sad to admit how much easier it is for me to extend judgment and mistrust onto people I don’t know, rather than to choose to love them. In very tangible ways, I know God would have me be a presence of light and love so I can embody who He is. To me this means smiling at strangers instead of fearing them. It means choosing gentleness over annoyance when my neighbors are loud or I get cut off in traffic. It’s praying for people who hurt me and choosing to be patient. It’s looking people in the eye, treating them with dignity, and realizing that God loves them just as much as he loves me.

Everybody hurts, doubts, cries, experiences loneliness. I believe that God gave us our earthly relationships in part to model His healing love to each other. It’s not usually the response that comes most naturally, but it’s always within our control to choose love. And maybe that’s the closest we’ll ever get to Heaven on Earth.

And so, a humble Namasté to my Exodus family, who are so easy to love!