The Ministry Of Noticing

You have searched me, LORD, and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways.

Psalm 139:1–3

IT STARTED OFF AS YOUR AVERAGE MARRIAGE MORNING. LISA AND I WENT OUT for an early walk, then stopped off at a Starbucks on our way to the grocery store to get some items for dinner later in the day. As Lisa walked up the steps, she turned and looked at me to say something. I remember the way the morning sun highlighted her hair, and I thought, She is so beautiful to me.

Ten minutes later, I told Lisa what I had been thinking. “This has been a rather mundane marriage morning—going for a walk, getting a cup of coffee, stopping at a grocery store—but I just want you to know, when you paused on the steps I thought to myself, ‘I am deliriously in love with that woman.’ ”

“Buuuuttt—,” Lisa said.

“No ‘but.’ That’s it.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“Oooh, baby, what do you want?”

“I don’t want anything! I was just thinking I’m still deliriously in love with you after almost twenty years of marriage and thought I should share it with you.”

“No, I mean it. You name it, you’ve got it.”

For the voyeuristically curious, I kissed her on the forehead and left the room (not that it’s any of your business!), struck by the power of simply noticing my wife and telling her about it. It dawned on me that this is what much of God’s love is all about. He notices us. He doesn’t take us for granted. The rest of the world is usually too busy to pay attention, but God remains passionately interested in and meticulously aware of our situation in life.

There was a time when Israel amounted to nothing but a tiny, insignificant family. But God noticed them: “The LORD did not set his affection on you and choose you because you were more numerous than other peoples, for you were the fewest of all peoples” (Deuteronomy 7:7). Even so, God chose this “fewest of all peoples” to become his “treasured possession” (7:6).

While on earth, Jesus carried on this same ministry. He noticed those whom the Pharisees in their religious blindness had forgotten. He paid attention to the woman at the well, a woman other “respectable” rabbis would have ignored. He welcomed children into his circle instead of shooing them away. He put up with repentant prostitutes and focused his ministry on those who seemingly could offer the least to his work: “Go back and report to John what you hear and see: The blind receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the good news is proclaimed to the poor” (Matthew 11:4–5).

So when Paul told husbands we’re supposed to love our wives like Christ loves the church (Ephesians 5:25), for one thing, he’s telling us we’re supposed to notice them. Everyone else may take them for granted, but not us. Their bosses or employees, their children, maybe even their parents, may be too busy to slow down and offer much by way of gratitude or encouragement, but it’s our job to take the time to notice and affirm them.

Wives, you can do this as well. Particularly by the time we reach middle age and our bodies soften while our hair thins (or disappears), and younger men get promoted over us while youthful dreams die—when we feel invisible to the rest of the world—you can replenish our souls by not taking us for granted, by simply noticing your husband and telling him what you’re thinking.

Some of my most intimate moments with my heavenly Father come when I realize he’s watching, he’s noticing, he’s getting it all down. When I pray, he sees. When I give, he takes notice. When I overcome a temptation that no one else knows about, he encourages me. He knows “when I sit and when I rise,” he “perceive[s] my thoughts from afar.” He knows when I go out and when I lie down. He is “familiar with all my ways.” Where can I flee from his Spirit? Nowhere. Where can I hide from his presence? That place doesn’t exist (Psalm 139:1–10).

Loving begins with noticing. It is more than that, surely, but it can never be less than that. I argued in Sacred Marriage that the opposite of love isn’t hate; it’s apathy. Apathy is a form of blindness, becoming oblivious to another person. If I want to truly love my spouse, I must begin by remaining aware of her, noticing her, and letting her know all the while what I’m thinking.

Loving begins with noticing. It is more than that, surely, but it can never be less than that.

We live in a self-absorbed world where we are all taken for granted in one form or another. May God grant us the grace to notice our spouses and love them like God loves us.