I’m sitting in the backseat of our car, feet on the console between the front seats, typing. Nancy is in the optometrist office for an annual exam, I’m avoiding the background music and chatter of the office. We have the privilege of vision insurance.

“Looking for Jesus” is what I thought about when I started writing. It’s what I was thinking about when I walked into the hospital on Sunday. I’m not always looking for Jesus at work, but I’d been thinking about Matthew 25, where Jesus talks about visiting the sick (among other things). I thought, “What if I spent the day looking for Jesus?”

Sometimes we need vision correction. Nancy will walk out soon with dilated pupils and an updated prescription. In an eye exam, there are tests with lights and dots and letters. There is the anxiety-inducing “Which is better. A…or B. This is A…this is B. A…B.” (I dislike this. I’m afraid I’ll fail the quiz and be stuck with a bad vision correction for the next two years.)

Sometimes, looking for Jesus takes adjusting who we are actually looking for. Am I looking for person doing amazing stuff, or the person in need? The person who is most powerful or the person who is the most vulnerable? The person most like us, or the person least like us (who might be most like Jesus)? Or maybe that person and I will each discover that Jesus is showing up as a third person in the interaction.

I had a couple long conversations on Sunday. It was unusual, since we often are drive more by the pager than by the conversation. And I had a couple of good interactions with coworkers. No remarkable moments, no people leaping out of bed with legs suddenly healed.

I thought as I walked out, “Were you actually there?” And I smiled, know that the answer was, “And here.”