Growing up in a home with parents who were sticklers for discipline, I understood very early, although not without rebellion, the meaning behind one [loaded] look! My father, God rest his dear soul, was a looker! O yes, he was handsome…my brothers favor him in that regard but he was also a looker in that he seemed to have perfected the art of conveying a serious reprimand, in just one look.

An avid reader, was my father; whenever he was relaxing at home, his nose was buried either in one of the espionage novels he enjoyed reading, or the daily newspaper…The Gleaner. Needless to say, during those times, my younger brother and I would be involved in our usual play which, more often than not, involved hurling stones at each other and the kind of rambunctious mischief that would end up with one or both of us bawling. There were also times, when I would be arguing with my mother about some half or shoddily done chore and lippy as I was [maybe I still am], I would argue my non-point, seeking to justify my tardiness and in the process, making my mother angrier by the minute, with my refusal to shut up and simply admit my error.

It was during these times, either when one well aimed stone or other missile connected with some delicate part of my brother’s anatomy or when one word too many was heard in the back and forth between my mother and me, that I would sense, even before I saw my father lift his eyes from whatever he was reading. If it was the newspaper, there would be a slight rustle as he lowered it, looking over its edge and his glasses. If it was a book, he would simply hold it aside and stare. In those brief seconds, it didn’t really matter that he said nary a word for his look, spoke volumes.

It told me in no uncertain terms that I was skating on thin ice…that I needed to call a halt to my shenanigans and get scarce; it told me that the next movement would definitely not be a look and so I had better beware! You see, there was something in the looks my father gave, that spoke of his high expectations…that told me that he held me to a higher standard than that which I was [seemingly] too eager to embrace…that because he believed in me and my ability to rise to that standard, one look was enough…to get me back in line.

Perhaps the analogy is a tad flawed but, reading the Passion Narrative…that part where Luke [alone] tells, of Jesus turning and looking at Peter, following the latter’s denial and the crowing of the cock [See Luke 22: 61 – 61]…images of my father’s one look, came to mind.

Theologians who have re-enacted this particular scene within the entire narrative, believe that because Peter would have been on the outside of wherever Jesus was being held, they were more than likely not able to see each other, let alone exchange any kind of [non]verbal communication. It is possible, however, that as Jesus was being led [or more likely hauled and shoved] towards further scourging, that he would have passed Peter – still on the outside – and made that life-changing connection…speaking to the depths of Peter’s heart…with just one look!

I’ve often thought of how Jesus’ facial expressions would be, were he to look at me now…what for example, would his eyes convey? I was recently gifted an icon, depicting our Lord, holding a scroll [possibly that of Isaiah cf. Luke 4:18-19] in one hand, the other raised in the traditional way of bestowing a blessing. It occupies pride of place on the wall, just on entering my prayer room. Whenever I am there, regardless of my position…the eyes always seem to be looking at me. There are times also, when the look seems one of sadness and other times…I don’t know, they seem as though willing me to return the stare…to hold his gaze and therein see…feel something.

I don’t think I have been able to look long enough, as in contemplating the message in those eyes. Perhaps this Passiontide provides an opportune time to do so. What I know for sure, however…what I sense, in a fleeting glance at this icon but more so Luke’s unique retelling of that encounter between Peter and the Lord, is that Jesus is always looking at me…at you! I sense rather than see that there are times when he looks with longing, waiting for me to lift my gaze to his and see in his eyes, the pure love he longs to lavish upon me. I sense that there are times when the look is filled with disappointment, mingled with love…transmitting a message  – pretty much in the vein of my father’s, that much more…much better was expected of me than I was currently giving/displaying. Luke implies that it was that look that broke Peter’s heart…that caused a grown and hardened seaman, to not merely shed tears, but to weep.

As I venture deeper in my relationship with God in Christ, a recurring desire of mine is that whenever he looks at me, a smile lights up his eyes and spreads across his face. To be honest, I’m not sure how often if ever this has happened but of one thing I remain certain, and this from Peter’s experience; no matter how many times I deny him in word or deed…no matter how far away I believe myself to be, if I but turn to him, I will always find that he is looking…waiting for me to return and even for a while, hold his gaze and when I do, behind the veil of everything else that I would think or see…will be pure love mixed with compassion, willing me to trust him and to begin…again.

Until next week continue to be safe as you remain in His grip.

Grace+