What do people see when they look into YOUR eyes?

Today I was reading through a blog post written by a Facebook friend when a sentence jumped out at me:

“Every day, little ones look into people’s eyes, to see if they see a kind heart.”

That connected deeply with me for a few reasons, both personal and professional, and because I have, on many occasions, witnessed this behavior common with children.

The last time was in a Starbucks. I was enjoying a cup of coffee while working with my laptop when a small child joined her parent who was waiting for their order. The little girl was oblivious to the world, twirling and spinning in self entertainment when, suddenly, she spun to a stop and saw me. With a straight face, she immediately looked directly into my eyes for just a few seconds.

It was fascinating to “see” the shadows of thought that crossed her face as she peered into my eyes. For just a couple seconds, this child didn’t know if I was friend or foe. Something she saw — or didn’t see — in my eyes and face told her I was “safe.” She relaxed and smiled.

It is a tragedy this world is so broken that children learn at the youngest ages that not everyone is safe, not everyone is reliable, not everyone has a kind heart. That some will hurt you, even intentionally.

As adults, we tend to continue the habit. We still look into eyes to see if behind the face there is a kind heart.

Helen Lemmel wrote a hymn that gives us wise direction as we search longingly for kind hearts:

“Turn your eyes upon Jesus, look full in His wonderful face; and the things of earth will grow strangely dim, in the light of His glory and grace.”

Our God is safe for us, He has a kind heart! 1 Chronicles 16:34 states, “Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good! His faithful love endures forever.”

Not only can we find safety, rest, and peace in the kindness of God, but through His kindness we can experience the changing of our own hearts so that when others look into our eyes, they see a reflection of Christ and the kindness of His heart in us.

Scotty