Will He Find Faith on the Earth?

I begin this reflection on the Gospel today with a confession. This reading spoke to me weeks ago as one that I wanted to write about. The poignancy of Jesus’ question at the end of the Gospel caught my soul, and it screamed out for prayer and reflection.

“When the Son of Man comes, will He find faith on the earth?” I prayed, asking God, What is the faith that you will seek on the Earth? How will faith be recognized? How do I recognize it today? How do I quantify faith in my life and our broken and suffering world? There seemed to be more questions than answers. I then did what I often do when I struggle to find God’s Word for me. I went to our Church, sat in silence, and asked God to give me His Word.

The message came, “Look at me! Stop fussing and just look at me!” In the eyes of Jesus, we see the reflection of our own faith. In the eyes of Jesus, we find the still point at the very bottom of our soul where with awe, we whisper, “I believe.” The greatness of the gift of Jesus, fully human and fully divine, was never more compelling for us than it is in today’s Gospel. Our faith in God is an echo of the faith we see in Jesus’ life and in Jesus’ eyes. Our belief is not just faith in Jesus, but we have been given by Jesus a piece of His faith in God, His Father. When Jesus breathed on us after the resurrection, He entrusted us with his faith. He trusts us to tend, nourish, and care for our faith. 

The natural feelings of unworthiness welled up inside me, and I wondered how arrogant to think I have a part of the faith of Jesus. Not just faith in him but faith that is one with His own faith. Again I heard the words, “Look at me. Look and see what my eyes saw, and you will find the depth and the power of your own faith.”

Look and see those who are poor and suffering. See these brothers and sisters as I did, with a compassionate heart. Look into their eyes and see me.

Look and see those who damage and hurt and abuse others. See them not with the harsh eyes of judgment but with eyes filled with love. Eyes filled with a love so great that they empower the abuser with the desire and the courage to change their lives. 

Look into the eyes of family and friends who suffer from random violence, illness, and the senseless loss of loved ones. When you see the pain, anger, and the “why!” in their eyes, remember my eyes that filled with tears when my friend Lazarus died. Imagine my eyes when they saw my mother watching me die. May your eyes be eyes that don’t shy away from suffering with others.

Look into the eyes of those who beg God to change the circumstances of their lives, to take away their emotional pain, physical infirmity, or loss of love. See in them my eyes in the Garden of Gethsemane, begging God to let this cup pass.

Look into the eyes of those abandoned by society, their families, and even our Church. In them, see my eyes when they looked up to the heavens from the cross and cried out, “Why have you abandoned me?”

Look into the eyes of those who rejoice and celebrate. Look into the eyes of the children. See in them, my eyes filled with unmeasurable joy and laughter. Yet, knowing, there is far too little laughter. My world struggled like yours does.

“When the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on the earth?” When the Son of Man comes, he will look into our eyes, and in our eyes, he will see the laughter, anguish, anger, joy, and pain that reflect his own. The Son of Man will look into our eyes and see the true depth of our faith. He will recognize the faith He breathed into us long ago.

In God’s Unending Love,

Gwen