I walk through the market with my blonde haired, blue-eyed daughter. We weave through the mass of people sitting on the ground with their produce laid out ready to sell. Numerous pairs of eyes watch us as we buy bananas and cucumbers. Their gaze is particularly fixed on the beautiful white-skinned toddler whose hand I hold.
We walk places; people stare. We drive places; people stare. It seems that we are always watched no matter where we go. Our skin makes us stick out like sore thumbs. And it’s hard not to feel awkward about it, this taste of celebrity. This feeling of being watched wherever we go, I’m still learning to cope with it.
“Do you ever just get used to it?” I ask a teammate. “No,” she smiled back at me.
And all this has got me thinking. Maybe this is the way it’s supposed to be. After all, we’re supposed to be the city on a hill, the light of the world, reflecting His glory and brightness. Perhaps we should always have that awareness of being watched.
Because the world is watching. They’re searching for God and love and we are the carriers of that light and warmth. We’re the moon to His sun.
Though it may never feel completely comfortable to be stared at, at least I am conscious of my actions and words and the message I’m sending to the people around me. I want this knowledge to go deeper, into the innermost parts of my heart. And I hope that I come out the other side of all this looking more like Jesus. Because when people gaze at my white skin, I hope it’s the glow of His glory that draws them in.
“…And the Lord—who is the Spirit—makes us more and more like him
as we are changed into his glorious image.”
2 Corinthians 3:18b