KNOWING OTHERS: The Sacred Art of Truly Seeing
This incredible moment in the Gospel of Luke is when Jesus walks through a crowd. People are pressing in from every side, creating chaos, noise, and movement. And suddenly, he stops.
“Who touched me?” he asks.
His disciples are baffled. “Master,” they say, “the crowds are pressing in on you!”
But Jesus insists, “Someone touched me, for I felt power go out from me.”
And then a woman steps forward. She had been bleeding for twelve years. Twelve years of suffering. Twelve years of being considered unclean. Twelve years of isolation. She had touched the edge of his cloak, believing she would be healed.
And she was.
But here’s what’s fascinating: Jesus didn’t just let the healing happen anonymously in the crowd. He stopped, noticed, and wanted to know her.
“Daughter,” he said, “your faith has made you well. Go in peace.” (Luke 8:45-48, NLT)
The Sacred Art of Attention
We live in a world of constant distraction. Our eyes are fixed on screens, our minds divided between tasks, and our conversations happen while we’re thinking about the next thing on our to-do list.
But knowing someone—truly knowing them—begins with a radical act: paying attention.
Not the kind of attention that’s evaluating or judging. Not the kind that’s waiting for the other person to finish so you can speak. But the type that Jesus demonstrated. The kind that feels when power goes out. The kind that stops in a crowded street because one person’s touch was different.
The Apostle Paul writes in Philippians: “Don’t be selfish; don’t try to impress others. Be humble, thinking of others as better than yourselves. Don’t look out only for your own interests, but take an interest in others, too.” (Philippians 2:3-4, NLT)
Taking an interest in others. It sounds so simple, yet it’s profoundly countercultural.
Below and Beyond the Surface
Think about your last five conversations. In how many of them did you go below and beyond the surface? How often did you ask a question inviting the other person to share something meaningful? How many times did you listen—really listen—to the answer?
When Jesus met the woman at the well in Samaria, he didn’t just make small talk. He said to her, “Go and get your husband.” “I don’t have a husband,” she replied. “You’re right! You don’t have a husband—for you have had five husbands, and you aren’t even married to the man you’re living with now.” (John 4:16-18, NLT)
Jesus saw beyond her surface. He knew her story without her having to tell it. And rather than using this knowledge to shame her, he offered her living water.
We may not have Jesus’s divine insight, but we can cultivate a habit of seeing beyond the obvious, listening for what isn’t being said, and creating space where people feel safe enough to reveal themselves.
The Courage to Be Known
Knowing others requires their participation. It requires their courage to be known.
In the Gospel of John, Jesus says, “I am the good shepherd; I know my own sheep, and they know me.” (John 10:14, NLT)
This mutual knowing is at the heart of the relationship. It’s not just about our effort to know the other; it’s about creating the conditions where they feel safe enough to be known.
When we approach others with genuine curiosity rather than assumption, when we listen more than we speak, when we respond with empathy rather than judgment, we create those conditions.
“Share each other’s burdens,” Paul writes to the Galatians, “and in this way obey the law of Christ.” (Galatians 6:2, NLT)
To share a burden, you must first know what burden someone is carrying. And for someone to reveal their burden requires trust—trust that you won’t drop it, minimize it, or use it against them.
The Mirror of Relationship
There’s a fascinating paradox in knowing others: We often see ourselves more clearly when we truly see someone else.
James writes, “For if you listen to the word and don’t obey, it is like glancing at your face in a mirror. You see yourself, walk away, and forget what you look like.” (James 1:23-24, NLT)
Our relationships function as mirrors. They reflect on us our capacity for compassion, hidden judgments, and unexamined assumptions. We inevitably learn something about ourselves when we try to know someone else.
This is why knowing others is not just an interpersonal skill; it’s a spiritual practice. It refines us, grows us, and breaks open our hearts in ways that allow more light to enter.
The Sacredness of Story
Every person you meet is carrying a story. A complex, beautiful, sometimes heartbreaking story that has shaped them into who they are.
The Psalmist writes, “You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book.” (Psalm 56:8, NLT)
What would it mean to approach each person as if their story matters that much? As if each tear they’ve shed has been collected, each sorrow noted, each joy celebrated by the Creator of the universe?
Knowing someone means making space for their story, asking questions that invite them to share, and listening with the kind of attention that communicates, “Your experience matters. Your perspective is valuable. Your story is safe with me.”
The Practice of Presence
“And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us.” (John 1:14, NLT)
The Incarnation is the ultimate example of knowing through presence. God didn’t just observe humanity from a distance. God became human. Dwelt among us. Experienced life as we experience it.
Knowing others requires this kind of incarnational presence. It requires showing up—not just physically but emotionally and spiritually—being all there, bringing our whole selves to the encounter.
This kind of presence is revolutionary in a world of perpetual distraction and partial attention. It says to the other person, “You are worthy of my full attention. This moment matters. Our connection matters.”
As we practice this sacred art of truly seeing others, we participate in the divine work of love. We create spaces where healing can happen, the isolated can find belonging, and the unheard can find voice.
And in knowing others, we understand the One who knows and loves us completely.
“For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known.” (1 Corinthians 13:12, NLT)
Please read the following few words again and again.
I have not arrived at this point of transformational relationship yet. But I desire to, and I trust you do as well.
Go in Peace, Chuck
