Just as I Am?

Jesus, looking at him, loved him . . .

(Mark 10:21)

I vividly remember the first time I did a sacramental confession with a priest. I was a freshman in college, just coming back into faith after a long hiatus and new to the Episcopal Church. I felt excited, and sensed an abundance of spiritual energy within me. But I was also terrified: I carried baggage with me that felt too heavy, things I had done and said and thought during my teenage years that I felt very ashamed of. And I genuinely feared they would exclude me not only from the church but from the realm of God's love. So with fear and trembling I decided to put it all on the line: I set up an appointment with a priest to hear my confession. I was so nervous I could barely sleep the night before. I imagined him looking horrified and telling me that I had no place in God's church, let alone God's heart. And my terror increased when I entered the room and realized I would go through the rite face to face with him: no confessional booth, no anonymity, no place to hide. But I did it: I said out loud things I thought I would never say to anyone ever. He looked at me kindly the whole time, and at the end did not seem the least bit shocked. He assured me of God's love and forgiveness, but what blew me away was his love and acceptance. He was Christ to me in that moment: he saw me exactly as I was, and he loved me. It is no exaggeration to say that my life changed dramatically that day. I no longer had to believe in God's love as an abstraction: I had experienced it directly through another person.

That is what Jesus does in the story of the rich man who asks him what he should do to inherit eternal life: Jesus sees him for who he is, and he loves him. And, in fact, that is what he does throughout the Gospels: he looks into the hearts of everyone, grasping the reality of each person he meets, and loving what he sees. He takes people as they are. His power to transform lives begins with his radical and loving acceptance of every human being.

Not long ago, a man came to see me in my office. A lifelong and faithful Episcopalian, he was feeling disconnected from his church because he felt like his particular political views were not acceptable in the church. I could feel his pain and see it in his eyes. And I thought of Jesus looking at him and loving him. And I thought of that priest looking at me and loving me. And I knew that I just wanted to understand this man and love him as he was in that moment. And I was reminded for the umpteenth time in my ministry that we must be Christ to each other because we need Christ — and Christ needs us to convey his acceptance and unconditional love.

One of the greatest gifts we can give other people is to see them as they truly are and love them as they truly are. Especially in the polarized world we live in, those of us in Christ have a special calling to practice the radical acceptance of Jesus. We do not have to agree with everyone; we do have to love them. Of course this is not always easy, but that's why we have the Holy Spirit: so that we can love others as they are, the way Christ loves us as we are. And for me, that means remembering everyday that my first job when I encounter someone is not to change them or to judge them: my first job is to actually see them and try to understand them. Without that, I cannot hope to love them. As St, Francis prayed: Grant that we may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love. Yes. Amen.