26. October 2026

Your Kindness Might Be Their Billboard

I find it so sad that we have become a society that refuses to look each other in the eye. We’re “minding our own business,” hoping everyone else will mind theirs, or worrying about what people might think of our true personalities. Whatever the excuse, avoidance seems to have become the new norm.

Some blame COVID and having to isolate. But according to the U.S. Surgeon General’s 2023 advisory, about one in two American adults reported experiencing loneliness even before the pandemic. Apparently, we were already pretty good at keeping our distance.

Others say they don’t have anything in common with anybody. That was always my favorite. You see, I am a quirky little oddball.

Those of us born in the 1900s—yes, I said it—might remember knowing our neighbors’ first and last names, even though we still called them Mr. or Mrs. So-and-So. We knew how many kids they had because that was how many new friends we had. Our parents knew what each other did for a living and, OH, THE HORROR, what their houses looked like on the inside.

If something looked odd next door, my parents called to make sure everything was okay. If they saw kids getting into “questionable situations,” they called the parents and expected the same consideration if the shoe was on the other foot.

And guess what? Are you ready for this?

We still greeted those “snitch” parents respectfully and with kindness. We never really saw them as anything other than maybe a little annoying. Well, I say “we,” but I never got into trouble until I was an “adult.”

And those same parents—I’m using “snitch” solely for reference—didn’t keep their kids away or treat the “questionable” child like an outcast.

We could be corrected and still belong.

James 1:27 describes pure and faultless religion as looking after orphans and widows in their distress and keeping ourselves from being polluted by the world. Proverbs 28:27 warns against closing our eyes to the poor.

And in case that isn’t clear, Jesus makes it pretty crystal clear in Matthew 25:35–40. He describes feeding the hungry, welcoming strangers, clothing those in need, and visiting the sick and imprisoned. When the righteous ask when they did those things for Him, He answers:

“Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.”

That sounds a whole lot like paying attention to one another.

The world is always changing. Some call it evolving. We tend to associate that with growth and progress, but can we truly call this progress?

We’re afraid to ask how someone is doing because it might open the floodgates to why they aren’t okay. Or worse, they might return the question and open ours. Either way, it feels like honest answers have become socially unacceptable.

We’re constantly told to “read the room.” How are we supposed to read a room full of people we refuse to see? And how can we expect anyone to notice we’re not okay if our idea of a safe space is somewhere nobody else is allowed in—literally or figuratively?

We all need quiet sometimes, but my safe space includes a community of like-minded people who point me back to my faith, remind me of the Source of my strength, and pray for me through it all.

I recently heard someone say we have the power to change the atmosphere. Some call it changing the vibe. Whatever you call it, how we show up matters. Sometimes, just showing up can be what God uses to change the course of somebody’s life—or even our own.

There are documented cases of witnesses helping stop an abduction because they noticed what was happening and refused to stay silent. Somebody paid attention. Somebody spoke up.

Getting involved can also look much quieter: asking someone if they’re okay and staying long enough to hear the answer.

I’ve heard stories from people who were considering ending their lives when someone showed them kindness. For a moment, they no longer felt invisible, and that connection helped them hold on for another day.

I personally know someone who had reached that point. On her way, she looked up and saw a billboard that read only “Matthew 5:4.” Nothing else. She told me she has never seen it display that same message again.

She looked up the Scripture:

“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.”

The inside of her wrist now bears only “Matthew 5:4,” just as the billboard read—a reminder of the moment she knew God had personally reached out to her.

And I am so grateful He did.

You may never know what someone is carrying or what your kindness meant to them. You can still look up, notice, and make room for them to be a person instead of just another stranger passing by.

If you understand nothing else in this blog, understand this: God is not mute, and we are not deaf.

Take off your noise-canceling headphones—literally, figuratively, whichever applies. Tell God, in your own words, that you need Him to quiet the noise because you want to hear Him personally.

I believe He will respond. It may not look like a billboard or sound the way you expect. It may come through Scripture, a conversation, or someone who cares enough to stop and ask, “Are you okay?”

Be open to listening.

And when He nudges you to be that someone for somebody else, look up.