The People we Stop Seeing

It’s strange how easy it is to stop noticing things. The corner you drive by every morning without thinking. The person who always seems to be in the same spot. Even a neighbor you wave to out of habit, but never really pause to talk with anymore.

In this week’s Gospel, Jesus tells a story where that kind of blindness makes all the difference. A poor man named Lazarus lies at the gate of a wealthy man. He’s hungry, covered with sores, longing for scraps of bread. And the wealthy man? He walks past him every day. He eats, he enjoys his life, but he never really sees Lazarus. Over time, a great chasm grows between them.

It’s a hard truth: our biggest spiritual danger isn’t always hatred or cruelty. Sometimes it’s indifference. The slow habit of walking past. The choice not to see.

So what if discipleship began with attention? What if one of the holiest things we can do is open our eyes to the people right in front of us?

This week, I invite you to pause and ask yourself:

• Who is sitting at the “gate” of my life?
• Who have I stopped noticing?
• What would it look like to truly see them again?



Sometimes the first act of love is as simple as paying attention. And sometimes that’s where grace begins.