One of my personal mending shifts I have been trying to work on lately is fighting my internal need to label people. What I am finding is how deeply ingrained and automatic this habit really is. Recently, I have began to view not-labeling as a spiritual practice; one in which I try to see a person simply as a child whom God loves. When I practice this, I look at a person and as the labels fly into my mind at light speed I acknowledge them and then mentally try to discard them. Yesterday, this practice was really put to the test.

I had an appointment at the welfare office (yes, you read it correctly, but that’s another story). As I sat there waiting for my name to be called, I looked at the people surrounding me. Identifying and categorizing labels came flooding in— Elderly, white, Hispanic, poor, male, female, black, cute, ugly, well dressed—and no matter how hard I tried, I could not dispose of them. I instantly, within seconds, neatly categorized everyone in that room—Bamm! Done! If I were really honest, I saw them more according to the imposed labels then as a child of God whom he loves. I really tried, but it proved too difficult. That is until she showed up…

As I sat there by myself, surrounded by labels, she appeared from around a square column that was supporting the room. She walked with laughter and the smile on her face was priceless. She was a real cutie. Dark hair, about 3′2″ tall, and around 2 years old. I instantly saw her as a child of God whom he loves. Then a piercing question hit me: Why is it so easy for me to see—without labels—a cute child simply as someone whom God loves and so difficult to see an adult that way? Why does 40 years of aging effect my view of God’s kids so much? Why do I categorize and label them, but simply see her for who she is? After all, in reality, doesn’t God see us—you and me—like I saw that little girl? I sat there and quietly let God’s message sink into my heart.

Then I began to look around at the adults again. This time, I began to see them as God’s kids whom he loves. But I also saw more. I saw kids who were sad, wounded, lonely, scared (and scarred), beat down, and hurting. I saw, in part, the effect those 40 years of life had on them and my heart broke—it simply broke. As it did, I thanked my Father for the generous gift he just gave my heart.

And so my journey and my practice of trying not to label people—simply seeing them as children whom God loves—continues on. As it does, I hope that I can resist the need to label myself and simply see me as one of his, whom he loves.

May you too—’Cause you are, and he does!