We begin, again, with the beautiful prayer of a 16^th Century Spanish nun, St. Teresa of Ávila:

Christ has no body but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
Compassion on this world,
Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good,
Yours are the hands, with which he blesses all the world.
Yours are the hands, yours are the feet,
Yours are the eyes, you are his body.
Christ has no body now but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
compassion on this world.
Christ has no body now on earth but yours. 

             — St. Teresa of Ávila

Having Jesus’ feet implies a willingness to go—to be moved by God. Our Savior was willing to go anywhere to teach, preach, heal, and make disciples. We, too, should be willing to go to where lost and hurting people are, even if that involves risk. But going isn’t enough. What happens when we get there?

Friends, we also need the eyes of Jesus. But what does that entail?

I’ll begin with Brandon Heath’s “Give Me Your Eyes”—a 2008 song that has inspired and challenged me since the first time I heard it. In the video, he’s returning from a trip and is about to land. 

Have you been there? Flying home. Feeling good. Window seat. The man looks down on his beautiful home city all lit up.

In an instant, the peace and serenity turn to chaos and confusion. He’s surrounded by humanity. People are scrambling to make a connecting flight or retrieve luggage. Troubled expressions in every direction. Something inspires the man to look at them, to really see them, perhaps for the first time. 

The man appeals to God to open his eyes to hurting people—the broken-hearted, the ones forgotten; to see them and love them like Jesus did. He exits the airport with a new set of eyes.

The man notices a hurting girl on the street who is hiding something underneath. Who are the people around us who are “hiding what’s underneath”? He doesn’t just notice the distraught man in a suit. He goes deeper, imagining what could have brought the man to such despair. Christians, do we care about these forgotten people? Do we even notice them?

Jesus’ eyes noticed things. He picked up on big things—the lame, the demon-possessed—but also on the subtleties. When Jesus looked at the people he met, he didn’t judge them by the standards of the day. He looked beyond the outward circumstances of their lives—circumstances that invited condemnation from the religious leaders and the community—and showed them love. 

Consider Jesus’ compassionate exchange with the woman caught in adultery or his interactions with Zacchaeus, the tax collector reviled in his community. Or how about when He went to a well at noon and had what for many would be an awkward, difficult conversation with an outcast Samaritan woman who had had five husbands and was living with a man not her husband.

One commentator mentions that Jesus brought “sandpaper” to each situation, but it always had just the right amount of grit. He could love, challenge, encourage, and motivate… all in the same interaction.

We need to not only be willing go to go to challenging places (the feet of Jesus), but notice things once when we get there (His eyes). I’ve got work to do here. I’m not nearly as perceptive as my wife, Janet. While driving home after worship services, she’ll ask, “Did you notice David wasn’t himself today?” I’ll reply, “David was at church today?” While I’m focused on the impressive way the preacher has organized his sermon, my wife is noticing people. I need to do a better job at noticing who’s here, who’s missing, and how the people who are here are doing.

That’s having the eyes of Jesus. Your head is on a swivel. You’re paying attention.

At a recent men’s retreat, I asked the attendees to close their eyes. I then asked them what was red in the room. Only one of them knew. He pointed in the direction of his friend who was wearing a red shirt. I then asked them to open their eyes and look for red. It was all around them! They pointed at a red cup, an American flag, various items of clothing, and other things. You see it’s easy to notice red when you’re looking for it. And it’s easy to notice the needs of those around us—the ones forgotten—when we wake up every morning with the eyes of Jesus.

What if we each took the chorus to “Give Me Your Eyes” and made it our life’s motto?

St. Teresa of Ávila and I don’t have much in common. She was a petite 16^th Century Spanish nun and I’m a largish 21^st Century American Christian. Doctrinally, we don’t align on some issues. But she wanted to share God’s love with those around her—I identify with that. That’s what I want my life to be about. She felt—as do I—that we are Christ’s ambassadors—His representatives in this messed up world. In 2 Corinthians 5:20a, Paul puts it this way: “Therefore, we are ambassadors for Christ, God making his appeal through us.”

As such, it’s up to Christians to be Christ’s feet, His eyes, and His hands. Collectively, Christians—the church—are His body. Here’s how a nun who lived 500 years ago put it:

Christ has no body but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
Compassion on this world,
Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good,
Yours are the hands, with which he blesses all the world.
Yours are the hands, yours are the feet,
Yours are the eyes, you are his body.
Christ has no body now but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
compassion on this world.
Christ has no body now on earth but yours. 

             — St. Teresa of Ávila

How can we do that? How can we love the people we meet, even in the routine circumstances of our lives? How can we be God’s ambassadors here on earth? What does it mean to be the feet, eyes, and hands of Christ?  

Let’s start with His feet. Having Jesus’ feet implies a willingness to go—to be moved by God. Our Savior was willing to go anywhere to teach, preach, heal, and make disciples. 

In Mark 5, He was willing to travel to the country of the Gerasenes to confront a demon-possessed man who lived among the tombs and had broken the chains that bound him. The scary, pitiful man cried out and cut himself night and day. Jesus was willing to go there, confront the demons, and cast them into a herd of pigs.

Our Lord was also willing to go into a “den of thieves” and overturn tables in Mark 11. The vendors had turned God’s house of prayer into a marketplace and were ripping off their customers. Jesus was willing to go there to say and do some hard things. Are we?

In John 11, Jesus was willing to walk to Bethany, knowing that his friend Lazarus had died. He comforted Martha and Mary and ultimately raised Lazarus to life again.

Most importantly, Jesus’ feet took Him to a hill on the outskirts of Jerusalem, where He died on a cross, paying the ultimate price for humanity’s sin. According to Romans 5:8, “God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.”

Do we have the feet of Jesus? Are we willing to go?

We find many examples in Scripture of faithful believers who were willing to go. Abraham was instructed to leave his country and relatives and go to a land God would later show him (Genesis 12:1). He trusted God and “it was credited to him as righteousness” (Genesis 12:6). He had willing feet.

Ruth, a childless widow, was willing to leave her homeland and family and accompany her mother-in-law, Naomi, to Judah (Ruth 1). Her sacrificial actions showed deep loyalty, obedience, diligence, and love. Like Abraham, Ruth had willing feet. 

In the New Testament, Jesus called 12 ordinary young men to become his closest disciples, asking them to walk away from their jobs, families, and personal safety to do so. They dropped everything and followed Him. Their willing feet tracked the steps of Jesus.

Jonah, on the other hand, ran from God’s call to Nineveh, fearful of what might come of such a risky venture (Jonah 1). At the beginning of his story, his feet were unwilling to go where God was calling him. Have you ever felt unwilling to answer God’s call?

Christians, if we’re going to be Christ’s ambassadors, we need to be willing to go. Imagine Mike Huckabee, the U.S. Ambassador to Israel, telling the President, “I appreciate you appointing me ambassador. It’s truly an honor to serve. But just so you know, I won’t actually be traveling to Israel. Too risky!” In Matthew 28:19-20, Jesus says, “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age.” Being the “feet” of Jesus, therefore, implies that Christ’s followers will actually get up and go. 

Don’t get me wrong—sending missionaries to faraway places is wonderful. God needs senders. And due to health, age, or other constraints, “going” may not be possible for some. But, as one preacher put it, “going has to be more than just sending.” Whether it’s in our immediate circles, our neighborhoods, or globally, we are commissioned to share the good news of what Jesus Christ has done, is doing, and will do and not keep the gospel hidden to ourselves.

I’m afraid we tend to want to comfortably stay where we are, surrounded by people who look like us and believe like us, rather than venturing out where needs are. Think about it—it’s possible to live in a gated (or exclusive) community, home school your kids, and hang out and worship with mainly Christians. If you work from home and do your shopping online, you can avoid even more interaction with “the world.”

I’m not knocking any of those things individually. There are upsides to limiting our risk and exposure to the world. I’m thankful for my Christian friends and love being around them. The problem is we can’t be the light of the world (Matthew 5:14) if we’re not around some darkness. We can’t be the salt of the earth (Matthew 5:13) if we have isolated our seasoning from the world.

Jesus ate with tax collectors and sinners, and yet we who call ourselves Jesus’ followers sometimes give the impression we only want to be around Christians like us. How can we reach people who we’ve largely excluded ourselves from? To be effective ambassadors of Christ, we simply must have touch points with our lost and dying world.  

Christians, in short, we need the feet of Jesus—feet that are willing to go. We need to be willing to go where lost and hurting people are—prisons, disaster areas, mission fields, homeless shelters, inner cities, and crisis pregnancy centers. 

“But that could be risky!”

You bet it could be risky! 

How can we read the Bible and walk away thinking our Christian walk—our Christian ministry—doesn’t involve risk? God has always looked for people willing to set aside their personal comforts and interests to follow him and share in His ministry. He’s invested in the growth and transformation of His followers (Romans 12:1-2), and part of that growth involves being challenged and stretched.

Have you been challenged in serving God lately? Have you been stretched? Have you taken on any risk to serve Christ? Have you taught a Bible class for the first time, despite concerns over not being sufficiently qualified? Have you invited a neighbor or co-worker to church, despite concerns that the conversation might feel awkward or somehow harm the relationship?

Jesus warned his would-be disciples that following Him wasn’t for the faint of heart. “If anyone wishes to come after Me,” He said, “he must deny himself, and take up his cross and follow Me. For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it; but whoever loses his life for My sake will find it” (Mat. 16:24-25). Every faithful servant of God who we read about took risks—many suffered and some gave their lives for Jesus and the message of the gospel. Sadly, many others found the cost of discipleship too much to bear and turned back.  

In my all-time favorite YouTube video, Francis Chan pretends to be an Olympic gymnast competing on the balance beam. He carefully crawls onto the beam and then clings to it tightly with both hands for the duration of the routine. He dismounts by carefully crawling off the beam then triumphantly raises his hands toward the judges, anticipating a stellar score. Chan asks, “What are the judges supposed to do with that?” How are they supposed to score the routine highly when the gymnast played it safe and took no risks? 

Granted, we can’t earn our way to heaven—my salvation is based on what Jesus did on the cross, not my earthly deeds. Same goes for you. But in response to Jesus selflessly shedding His blood for me, I should be willing to take some risks for Him. I should be willing to go. I don’t want to play it safe throughout my life, gripping the beam, and then stand before the Judge of the Universe one day and hear, “Why’d you play it safe, Steve? How come you never took any risks for me? Didn’t you realize I would have been right there beside you in all those opportunities you were too scared to embrace?”

Following in the footsteps of Jesus is the essence of what it means to be a Christian—a disciple of Christ. Just as Christ was willing to bring light, life, love, hope, and forgiveness to his creation, so Christians today are called to step out in faith, follow Him, and deliver the same message to a world in desperate need of a savior.   

Will we answer the call? 

Will we assume risk and be willing to bring light to dark and difficult places?

Will we be the feet of Jesus?