People watching

People watching: we all do it. Whether it’s from a twelfth-floor window, a Perkin’s booth, or a Facebook account, I have yet to discover someone who doesn’t enjoy posing as an undetected ninja spy (for no valiant cause in particular, unless you count the possibility of one day saving the world through useless observations.). I never used to think of myself as a creepy people watcher. But I’ll admit, it seems —er, odd—when I know names and bagel preferences of strangers who sit in the campus coffee shop or find myself questioning why that certain student is walking that direction when they would normally be heading to class at this hour. 

Lately, one of my favorite places to subconsciously people watch is the campus rec center. Last night, I was chugging away some miles around the track. I had a lot on my mind—in fact, so much that when I finished I forgot myself and even decided to go upstairs. (“Upstairs” translates to impossibly heavy hand weights, mats that are presumably there for more soul-crushing exercises, and giant stability balls for pretending you understand Pilates.) I thought I might try a few crunchers, but God had other plans.

There, sitting on a grungy blue slab of foam, I did some people watching. Except this time, I did some real people watching. It was like time had stopped and I was looking at everything through 3D glasses. There are so many strangers in this room. And how many of them know Jesus? It hit me: the chaos of school, work, and personal problems was not real. The pursuit of having a nice, comfortable life where circumstances pan out, people get along, and everyone applauds? Not real—only temporary. Because in God’s book, the only things that will matter in eternity are people and His Word.

I was hit with some tough questions. How many people do I sit mere feet away from in a student lounge or coffee shop on a daily basis, without ever starting a conversation and seeing what’s inside? How many people do I know on a personal level, yet fail to show the love of Christ to? I may not know much, but hey, I have eternal life through Jesus Christ. I have truth—something real. Am I doing anything with that? Or am I just shoving that amazing gift in my locker every day when I hang up my coat?

It was time for some adjustments. I asked God, “How do I share this with people? I don’t know how.” I knew, deep down, the answer was “Just start a conversation. I do all the work.” I pulled myself up off the mat, and as I was about to leave, my eyes snagged on a book the girl next to me on the mat had brought to the rec with her. It was The Shack, a religious novel published a few years ago that I had read for interest's sake. I thought “Huh,” kept going, and then stopped in my tracks. Oh, you mean start a conversation right now, God? This could be awkward. I went back and sat down on the mat again.

And I’m so glad I did.

“Hey, I’m curious; I’ve read that book and I’m wondering what you think of it.” (My voice may or may not have cracked a bit.) So started the best half-hour conversation I’ve had all week. There is nothing more real, more exciting, than the secure hope that one can find in Jesus Christ. Especially when the alternative—an eternity apart from Christ in hell—is also very real. There is nothing more inspiring than the reality that even though “the wages [earnings] of sin is death,” that He has paid the penalty for sin in full, once and for all. The “gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.” (Romans 6:23) It’s a gift! We simply need the humility to take it in faith, realizing our efforts are irrelevant (Ephesians 2:8-9). That kind of grace, that kind of unconditional, sacrificial love, is nowhere to be found on a human level. 

I left with a new number in my phone contacts list and a new perspective on people watching. Take time to think about and act on what is real in life. We'll never regret investing in eternity. 

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