Make Eye Contact With Jesus

I was sitting in my chair at Thursday night's prayer meeting, singing along to "Open the Eyes of My Heart" when I really felt that I was in the presence of Jesus. I was asking Him to open the eyes of my heart so that I could see Him better, but His response was not what I expected. He was asking me to look at Him with my actual eyes. He wanted me to make eye contact.

I thought about this for awhile, and realized that when I really want to connect with someone, I want that person to look me in the eyes.  I ask my students to make eye contact when I am speaking directly to them at school. I ask my own children to make eye contact when they offer me the sign of peace at Mass every Sunday. I expect Andy to make eye contact when we are conversing.

In this electronic world, texting and Facebooking have taken away the personal touch of making eye contact. It is easy to get careless with our remarks when we aren't in the presence of the person we are addressing. If we stay disconnected, we are safe from vulnerability, and any kind of accountability is put off for the immediate future. The human experience involves connectivity through touch and eye contact. Could it be that we are treating Jesus with the same disconnect?

It wasn't until yesterday, however, that I realized how much Jesus wanted this to be an actual physical event. Last week was a real upper for me. I referred to it as "Appreciation Week Extraordinaire" when I blogged about it. I definitely knew I was one of God's favorites.

This week, however, has been a real struggle for me. I've gone from one of God's favorites to feeling like I've been dumped. I've been crabby and irritable, and my sense of humor has taken a vacation. So during the height of my struggle at school on Friday, I asked another teacher, Mary, if she had a picture of Jesus with His eyes open. She looked at me rather puzzled so I explained.

About an hour later, Mary knocked on my door and handed me a beautiful picture of the child Jesus that she had printed out and pasted onto a piece of construction paper. I wanted to cry. I had pictured Jesus on the crucifix, telling me to "buck up" and sacrifice for my students. Instead, He came to me as a child, tender, merciful, innocent.

I held that lovely picture of Jesus to my chest and simply said, "Thank you, Mary."

She smiled and said, "How could I not to respond to a request like that?"

I closed the door and looked into Jesus' gaze. He must have been pleased with my act of obedience to Him, and with my desire to look upon His face, because instantly I was flooded with peace. Thank you, Jesus.