Who Are We Stepping Over? A Challenge to Really See People

In the rush of modern life—places to go, things to do, people to see—we often don't truly see people at all. We navigate through crowds, pass by faces, interact with countless individuals, yet how many do we genuinely notice? How many register as more than obstacles in our path or means to our ends?

There's a powerful story in Mark 8 that confronts this spiritual blindness head-on. Jesus encounters a blind man and does something unexpected. After spitting on the man's eyes and touching him, Jesus asks, "Do you see anything?" The man's response is startling: "I see people, but they look like trees walking around."

Trees. Not human beings with souls, stories, struggles, and eternal destinies. Just vague shapes moving through space.

Jesus wasn't satisfied with partial healing. He touched the man's eyes again, and this time "his sight was restored and he saw everything clearly." This physical healing points to a deeper spiritual reality we all need: the ability to truly see people as God sees them.

The Rich Man and Lazarus: A Story of Spiritual Blindness

Luke 16 presents us with a sobering account that many scholars believe isn't a parable at all, but a real situation Jesus knew about through divine insight. It's the story of a rich man who "was dressed in purple and fine linen and lived in luxury every day," and a beggar named Lazarus who was "laid at his gate, covered with sores, longing to eat what fell from the rich man's table."

Notice the detail: Lazarus was laid at his gate. This wasn't a random encounter. Day after day, the rich man would have passed by this suffering human being. Perhaps he looked away. Perhaps he convinced himself someone else would help. Perhaps he simply didn't see Lazarus as a person at all—just another tree in the landscape of his privileged life.

Both men died. Angels carried Lazarus to Abraham's side. The rich man found himself in torment.

From his place of agony, the rich man could suddenly see clearly. He recognized Abraham and Lazarus across a great chasm. He begged for relief—just a drop of water on his tongue. Abraham's response cuts to the heart: "Son, remember that in your lifetime you received your good things, while Lazarus received bad things, but now he is comforted here and you are in agony."

The roles were reversed. The one who had nothing on earth had everything in eternity. The one who had everything on earth now had nothing but regret.

The Uncomfortable Question

This story raises uncomfortable questions for those of us living in relative comfort. We may not consider ourselves wealthy, especially when we compare ourselves to billionaires or celebrities. But compared to Lazarus—a man with no roof over his head, no car to sleep in, nothing but the clothes on his back, hoping for scraps from someone's table—where do we stand?

Most of us have more than Lazarus ever dreamed of. Yet how often do we walk through life with a "woe is me" mentality, convinced we're barely getting by, waiting for our breakthrough, our blessing, our turn?

James 1 offers a revolutionary perspective: "The brother in humble circumstances ought to take pride in his high position. But the one who is rich should take pride in his humiliation, because he will pass away like a wildflower."

In God's economy, poverty doesn't equal God's disfavor, and wealth doesn't equal blessing. What matters is what we do with what we've been given and whether we can see the people God places in our path.

The Danger of Double-Mindedness

James also warns about being "double-minded"—unstable in all we do. We say we love God with all our hearts, but do we obey Him when He asks us to give, to serve, to sacrifice? Do we pray "Yes, Lord" while living "No, Lord"?

We're quick to take out loans for things we want or think we need. We'll finance cars, homes, vacations, the latest technology. But would we consider taking out a loan to help someone in desperate need? The question reveals where our true values lie.

We can justify ourselves endlessly. "I'm not extremely wealthy. I don't have much to spare. I'm just barely getting by." But are we? Or have we simply become experts at seeing our wants as needs while remaining blind to the genuine needs around us?

Seeing With Divine Vision

What if Lazarus wasn't placed at that rich man's gate by accident? What if it was divine providence—God giving the rich man opportunity after opportunity to demonstrate love, to see a fellow human being, to share from his abundance?

What if every person we encounter is a divine appointment? What if the person panhandling at the intersection, the difficult coworker, the annoying neighbor, the struggling family member—what if they're not interruptions to our plans but invitations to God's purposes?

We've mastered the art of avoiding eye contact with people who might need something from us. We look the other way. We change lanes. We cross the street. We convince ourselves they're probably scammers anyway, or that helping would be enabling, or that someone else will surely step up.

But Jesus never went anywhere to get. He went to give. Even on the cross, bleeding and dying, He was giving—forgiveness to His executioners, hope to a thief, care for His mother.

The Challenge Before Us

The call isn't necessarily to give everything away and become destitute. The Bible shows us many faithful people who had wealth—Abraham, Job, Joseph of Arimathea. The issue isn't having resources; it's what we do with them and whether we keep our hands open to both receive from God and give to others.

The challenge is to ask God for wisdom to see people as He sees them. To pray before we pass by someone in need: "God, is this a divine opportunity? Is this person You've placed in my path for a reason?"

The challenge is to examine our lives honestly. How much of what we call "needs" are actually wants? How much have we wasted on things that don't matter while claiming we can't afford to help those who are genuinely suffering?

The challenge is to remember that we're all heading toward eternity. The rich man's regret wasn't just about his own fate—he desperately wanted his brothers warned so they wouldn't end up in the same place. But Abraham's response was clear: if people won't listen to Scripture, they won't be convinced even by someone rising from the dead.

We have the Word. We have the testimony of Christ who did rise from the dead. The question is: will we listen?

A Prayer for Clear Vision

Perhaps we all need to pray the prayer implied in this message: "God, touch my eyes again. Help me see people, not trees. Help me recognize the divine appointments You're placing before me. Help me understand how blessed I already am so I can bless others. Help me live with open hands—ready to receive from You and ready to give to those You love."

The uncomfortable truth is that one day we'll give an account. Not just for every word we've spoken, but likely for every dollar we've spent, every opportunity we've ignored, every person we've stepped over in our rush to get somewhere we thought was more important.

Let's not be like the rich man who could finally see clearly only when it was too late. Let's ask God for vision now—to see people as eternal souls, to recognize divine appointments, and to live generously because we serve a God who gave everything.

After all, Jesus saw people—and He thought they were worth dying for on a tree.