Years ago, standing behind the quarterback in countless huddles, I learned that success as a running back came down to one essential skill: vision. Not speed, not strength, not even agility, though all mattered. It was the ability to see what others missed, to read the developing play, to find the gap that would emerge just as I reached the line of scrimmage.
The best running backs possess an almost mystical awareness. They see beyond the immediate chaos of bodies colliding, beyond the obvious path, into the space that will exist two steps ahead. This vision transforms potential disaster into breakthrough moments.
As I’ve traveled further from those Friday night lights, I’ve discovered this same principle governs something far more profound: the art of loving others well.
The Starting Point of Transformation
Just as vision begins every successful run, kindness begins with how we see the world around us. Our eyes become the gateway to compassion. When we learn to truly observe others, not with judgment but with genuine curiosity, we begin to notice the subtle signs of struggle, the quiet victories, the unspoken needs that surround us daily.
This shift in perception requires intentional cultivation. We must train ourselves to see beyond surface interactions, beyond our own immediate concerns, into the deeper realities of human experience. It’s a discipline of the heart that starts with the eyes.
The enemy of this kind of seeing is the relentless pace of modern life. Hurry blinds us to opportunity, not just the opportunity to be kind, but the sacred privilege of entering into someone else’s story. When we’re perpetually rushing toward the next task, the next meeting, the next obligation, we lose the capacity for the kind of presence that transforms ordinary moments into profound connections.
The Art of Sacred Listening
After the eyes comes the discipline of the ears. True listening, the kind that heals and restores, is becoming a lost art. We live in a culture of competing voices, where conversations feel more like waiting for our turn to speak than genuine engagement with another soul.
I’m reminded of the simple wisdom found in observing a faithful dog. There’s something pure about how they listen, without agenda, without the need to fix or solve or redirect. They offer presence as a gift, creating space for authentic expression without the burden of judgment or unsolicited advice.
This is the listening that love requires. When someone shares their burden with us, they’re rarely seeking our solutions. More often, they’re seeking the profound comfort of being truly heard, of having their experience acknowledged and their feelings validated.
The scriptures remind us to “bear one another’s burdens” (Galatians 6:2), and I’ve learned this begins not with lifting the weight but with simply sitting beside someone in their struggle. Sometimes the most profound ministry happens in silence, in the sacred space of shared presence.
Beyond Words to Witness
Sympathy, genuine sympathy, meets fundamental human needs that no amount of advice can satisfy. We all carry the deep longing to be understood, to know that our feelings are valid, that we’re not alone in our experience. When someone is walking through difficulty, the gift of feeling normal, of knowing others have traveled similar paths, can be more healing than any strategy we might offer.
This truth challenges our cultural obsession with fixing and solving. We want to rush in with answers, to demonstrate our wisdom, to make the pain stop. But often, the most loving response is to resist this impulse and simply be present in the discomfort alongside someone we care about.
The more we talk, the more we advise, the more we try to redirect someone’s pain, the further we move from the heart of true compassion. Real kindness requires the courage to enter into suffering without immediately trying to eliminate it.
A Daily Practice of Sacred Seeing
As I reflect on this journey from the football field to deeper spiritual understanding, I’m struck by how both require the same fundamental commitment: showing up with full attention, ready to respond to what unfolds before us.
The call to love others as ourselves takes on new meaning when we consider how we long to be treated in our own moments of vulnerability. We want to be seen, truly seen. We want our words to matter, our pain to be acknowledged, our humanity to be honored.
This is the invitation before us each day: to approach every interaction with the eyes of a running back reading the field and the ears of a faithful companion. To see beyond the surface, to listen beyond the words, to respond with the kind of presence that communicates profound worth and belonging.
In a world that often feels hurried and distracted, this kind of intentional love becomes a radical act of faith, a way of participating in the divine work of healing and restoration that happens one conversation, one moment of genuine attention, at a time.
More eyes and ears. Less mouth. This is where transformation begins.
MindWolves 