BY MICHAEL GREEN | COLLEGE & INTERIM ASSOCIATE PASTOR

A quiet drift can happen in church life, and it rarely begins with bad motives. In fact, it usually begins with very good ones. We want the church to grow, people to be discipled, and ministries to thrive. Those are all good desires.

Because of that, we naturally begin paying attention to the measurable things. We track attendance numbers, volunteer participation, baptisms, and small group involvement. None of those things are wrong to track. In many ways, they are responsible things that we should care about.

But, without realizing it, we can begin to see people less as individuals and more as potential. When a college student walks through the door, we can immediately imagine the kind of leader they could become. A young couple visits the church and we begin thinking about where they could serve. When a first-time guest arrives, we can quietly wonder whether they will stay and get involved.

None of those thoughts are malicious. They often stem from genuine excitement and love for the church. But, if we're not careful, they can cause us to subtly drift. We slowly stop asking "Who is this person?" and begin asking. "What might this person become to us?"

That shift changes how we see people. In Mark 10, a wealthy young man approaches Jesus with a question about eternal life. Something interesting happens in this passage before Jesus says anything difficult or challenging, it says, "Jesus looked at him and loved him."

That sentence is easy to move past quickly, but it reveals something important about the heart of our Savior. Before the conversation turns difficult, before the man walks away grieving, Jesus sees him fully and loves him.

The original language shows us that he gives him intentional attention. Jesus doesn't glance at the man. He stops and truly sees him.

Not as a project. Not as a resource. Not as someone useful to his movement. He sees him as a person.

And what follows in the story matters just as much. Jesus tells the man the truth, even though it is hard to hear. The man ultimately walks away grieving, and Jesus allows him to leave. He does not manipulate him or soften the call to secure an outcome.

Christ's relationship with people was never transactional. He always loved everyone he encountered honestly, personally, and truthfully.

That is very different from the kind of pressure people sometimes feel in the world today. Many people quietly assume their eventual value will be based on their contributions. But the church should be one of the few places left in the world where people are allowed to be seen and loved before they are evaluated.

Paul describes ministry this way in 1 Thessalonians 2:8 "Being affectionately desirous of you, we were ready to share with you not only the gospel of God but also our own selves, because you had become very dear to us."

That is more than organization and more than efficiency. It is presence. It is attention. It is genuine affection for people.

Every person who walks into First Baptist carries fears, disappointments, questions, hopes, and burdens that may never be obvious in a brief Sunday morning conversation. None of those things can be easily measured, but they matter deeply to God.

Lately, I've been convinced that the most important question I can ask myself is this: Do I actually know this person? Not just their ministry role, but their story. Their struggles. Their hopes. The things they're carrying quietly. Jesus looked at him and loved him. Jesus looked at you and loved you. I pray we look at people the same way.