The People I see

I was named after the Bible character Anna. Anna, a Prophetess, was an amazing legend to be named after. According to Luke, Anna never once left the temple. Instead, this devoted servant worshipped and fasted day and night, displaying her hopeless love for her Lord. She was right beside Simon’s side when he gently cradled the newborn baby Jesus in his arms. From that moment on, she couldn’t shut up about the child. She looked forward to great expectation to the day God would deliver Israel.

            And yet, oftentimes I don’t live up to the legend I was named after. Sometimes when I look in the mirror I don’t see Jesus’ eyes of grace and compassion staring back at me at all.

            Instead, I find myself staring at Pharaoh.

            You think that an odd comparison?

            Perhaps.

            But let me explain. All too often, I find myself acting like Pharaoh. In the times of darkness and confusion and plagues in my life, I find myself in desperate need of God. I cry out to God, plead with God, beg for his deliverance. In those rough places, I am quick to recognize my dire need for God. And yet, when the plagues are gone, when I am finally out of the deep waters that once threatened my life, I always seem to forget my need for God. Instead, I find myself pushing him away, pursuing my own agenda.

            And other times when I look in the mirror the person I see staring back at me reminds me of Pilate.

            Pilate. The man whose hands were stained red with the innocent blood of God’s gift to humanity. He tried to lay the blame on the people. He tried to remind them that it was their children whose hands were guilty of bloodshed, but-in reality-the decision rested in his hands. I am often like Pilate because I am all too eager and willing to do anything to get people’s approval. I am often like Pilate because I am afraid to take a stand for what is right. I am often like Pilate because I sarcastically question, “What is truth?”

            But most of all, I am like Pilate because I am guilty of crucifying God’s precious gift to humanity. My hands are stained with the blood of an innocent man.

            But most of the time, when I look in the mirror I see the accusing, dark eyes of the Pharisees staring back at me. We Christians are much too quick to accuse the Pharisees of hypocrisy and judgmental motives. How ironic that we judge the people who judge. After all…how are we any different? The Pharisees didn’t recognize who Jesus was, you say. But do we? Do we realize that Jesus is the face of the prostitute on the corner of the street, just doing her job so she can provide food for her children? Do we realize that Jesus is the homeless man pushing his shopping cart of precious belongings that we avert our eyes from? Give me one good reason as to why the person staring back at you in the mirror is any different than the Pharisees inscribed on the pages of the Bible. We cluck our tongues at the behavior of the Pharisees, but yet we fail to recognize the Pharisee that lives in each of us.

            Pharaoh. Pilate. Pharisees. People I recognize when I look in the mirror.