Love is known when we recognize ourselves in the other
The narrow stairs to the third floor creaked with every step, telling stories of residents and guests come and gone. It was a beautiful old apartment. It was small and cozy, light and comfortable, sleek and modern. But the walls spoke with wisdom that can only come through a well-seasoned life. The sounds and color, and character of the city echoed through the leaded glass windows overlooking the street below. It was beautiful. It was lovely, not in the obvious way of a quiet lake or mountain view, but still beautiful. Sadly, I missed the beauty in my first look around. I first noticed the boarded-up church building a few doors down. I saw the cracked sidewalks and peeling paint. I noticed that no one on the streets looked like me. I noticed my uneasy feelings, and I wondered if our car would be safe on the street overnight. I wondered if this place would be ok for me and my family to stay.
Why? Why was I initially so uncomfortable? There’s always a degree of discomfort in unfamiliar surroundings, but this was something different.
I'm learning not to run from my discomfort when it surfaces. I'm learning to pause and lean into it and listen. I'm learning to take a long, sustained look. This pause is the heart of a contemplative life. I looked and listened and sat still. Then I quietly confessed, “God, there is still a part of me that sees some people – other humans loved by you and made in your image – as ‘other’ instead of ‘one of.’ I'm truly sorry, God, and I humbly repent.”
Richard Rohr says, “Love is known when we recognize ourselves in the other.”
This love felt real and palpable as I confessed my bias and admitted my unnecessary discomfort. As I took a longer look at my surroundings and my neighbors for the night, I felt included. I felt like a welcome guest rather than a stranger. I felt love for the people around me, and I sensed their warmth and hospitality. I felt safe and at home. There was no other; there was just us, the family of God together in an older, urban neighborhood in Albany, New York.
God, I confess the bias and prejudice that still exists in me. I pray for your healing and deliverance from this and all that stands in the way of my knowing and sharing your love. Help me recognize God's image in those I have “othered.” I pray the same for those who have “othered” me. Reveal to us, O God, the fullness of your love
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