THE SECOND BORDER IS THE HUMAN EYE

 THE SECOND BORDER IS THE HUMAN EYE

There is a border drawn on the map,
and there is a border drawn inside the eye.

The first has fences, checkpoints, uniforms, questions.

Where were you born?
Why have you come?
How long will you stay?

The second asks nothing aloud.

It looks at the face.
It hears the accent.
It reads the name.
It notices the clothing.

And before the stranger has spoken,
the eye has already issued its passport.

Foreign.
Muslim.
Christian.
Arab.
Black.
Immigrant.
Refugee.
One of them.

The first border examines documents.
The second border examines appearances.
And sometimes the second is harder to cross.

A man may travel thousands of miles
to escape those who persecuted him
because they knew his faith,
only to arrive among people
who mistrust him
because they imagine another faith.

He carried a cross across the ocean.
But no one saw it.

They saw his skin.
They heard his name.
They recognized the country printed on his papers.
And the human eye built another checkpoint.

There are no guards there.
No fence.
No razor wire.
No immigration desk.

Only a glance.
Yet sometimes a glance can say:

You are not from here.
Sometimes a glance can build a wall
higher than concrete.

Sometimes the stranger crosses the national border
in a single afternoon,
and spends thirty years
trying to cross the border
inside another person's eyes.

This is the second border.

It follows the immigrant into the grocery store.
It follows the Muslim into the airport.
It follows the Sikh beneath his turban.
It follows the Black man through the neighborhood.
It follows the Arab Christian into the church.
It follows the undocumented mother
to the sanctuary door.

The first border may stamp: ADMITTED.
The second may continue whispering: NOT YET.

Not yet one of us.
Not yet trusted.
Not yet understood.
Not yet fully belonging.

And this is how a human being
can enter a country
without ever being permitted
to enter its imagination.

But Jesus looked differently.

When others saw Samaritan,
He saw neighbor.
When others saw sinner,
He saw a person worth approaching.
When others saw leper,
He reached out His hand.
When others saw blind beggar,
He stopped.
When others saw foreigner,
He discovered faith.

When others saw a category,
Jesus saw a face.

Perhaps this is why the Gospel
must begin again with our eyes.

Before changing governments,
before changing borders,
before changing laws,
something inside the human gaze
must be converted.

Because prejudice begins long before the fist.

Long before the detention.
Long before the insult.
Long before the wall.

It begins when the eye decides
that it already knows the person
it has never met.

So perhaps repentance sometimes begins
with something as small as looking again.

Look again.

The Muslim is not the word Muslim.
The Christian is not the word Christian.

The immigrant is not the word immigrant.
The refugee is not the word refugee.

The Black man is not a category.
The Arab woman is not a geopolitical argument.

The stranger is not a problem
walking toward you.

Look again.
There is a mother.
There is a father.
There is someone's child.
There is someone carrying memories
you cannot see.

There is someone who buried somebody.
Someone who left a house behind.
Someone who remembers a street
that no longer exists.

Someone who prayed during the journey.
Someone who crossed an ocean
believing that somewhere beyond it
there might be a place
where fear would finally stop.

Do not make your eyes
another country they must escape.

Let your eyes become a sanctuary.
Let the stranger cross without papers.
Let the refugee enter without explanation.
Let the Muslim remain Muslim.
Let the Christian remain Christian.
Let the person standing before you
become larger than every name
you were taught to fear.

For the final border
may never appear on any map.

It runs quietly
between one human being
and another.
And every day
we decide whether to strengthen it
or cross it.

The priest saw the wounded man.
The Levite saw him too.
The Samaritan also saw.

Three pairs of eyes.
The same road.

The same wounded body.
But only one gaze
became a bridge.

That is the difference.

The human eye can become a border.
But when mercy enters it,
the human eye can also become
the first open gate.

Pastor Steven G. Lee
St. GMC Corps
September 28, 2026

https://www.pewresearch.org/2024/04/02/views-on-discrimination-in-our-society/ ___Views on discrimination in our society

https://religionnews.com/2024/04/02/poll-muslims-most-discriminated-group-in-us-but-jews-not-far-behind/
Poll: Muslims most discriminated group in US, but Jews not far behind

https://www.facebook.com/steven.g.lee1/posts/pfbid0D6z2FQ2kNH51M8mBA8jSYyWqZAdTSXVhTPUMXc4GKthcUuVzTKo7z3qRN8eVtGMAl