Jesus' gaze

I closed my eyes to focus on Jesus. Not his face, words or actions, but on his being. My eyes closed. Darkness was everywhere. Due to my lazy imagination, all I pictured was the face of Jesus I’ve seen in paintings before.

His eyes were what connected us. They were already focused on me. Not angry, intimidating or curious. They were loving, peaceful, authentic. Yes, he seemed interested, but not curious as if he didn’t already know my pride, lust and resentment. He knew it all, and he was enjoying the fact that I was finally focusing a few minutes on just him. Not his mission, teachings or actions.

Just him.

You’d think I would focus much longer on Jesus, knowing who he is and what he’s done for me. And you’d guess he’d be less eager to give me his time, since I often neglect his voice even when it screams from people, nature and circumstances around me. But he’s still somehow waiting when I take the time to be quiet, look and listen.

Looking at Jesus. We played the staring game, or the focused gazing game, and Jesus won. My thoughts would wander and his face would disappear completely. I’d then realize my daydream and reassemble Jesus’ face in front of me. He never scolded me. He never showed me his scars to make me guilty for not staying alert. His gaze said it all.

“You are my beloved. Stop, wait and gaze back into my eyes more often. My simple presence will encourage you and remind you why you’re doing all these activities. I’ll help you rest, refocus and fill you with my Spirit if you gaze back at me. I’m always right here, watching you with love.”