Lift Up Your Eyes
Edited directly from the sermon transcript of Matthew Miller’s message at Highland Hills Church of Christ on June 28, 2026. Adapted for length and readability while preserving his voice and message.
When you first get a vehicle and begin driving it, a strange thing happens. You see those vehicles everywhere. You never noticed a Toyota Tacoma before—until you’re riding in one. Then they’re all over the place.
We didn’t see it until we became aware. It became part of our life. What we see is a vital part of living the Christian faith.
When we see people through the compassionate eyes of Jesus, we recognize the abundance of opportunities God has placed before us. And when we see those opportunities, we become willing laborers in that work.
I try to garden some years, and it doesn’t turn out too well. For the next couple of years, I think, “I’m just not a good gardener.” Then a couple of years later: “All right, I’m planning this out. I’m going to be a good gardener this year.” My ambitions never truly match my skill.
But a good gardener looks at a patch of rough soil and sees potential, opportunity, an abundant harvest.
There’s a difference between looking and really seeing. We look everywhere we go: driving, going into a store, visiting a doctor’s office. But to really see is to behold. I love that biblical word. Take a moment to be in this moment and hold on to what’s there.
In Matthew 9:35–38, Jesus goes through the cities and villages, teaching, preaching the gospel of the kingdom, and healing. “But when he saw the multitudes, he was moved with compassion for them, because they were weary and scattered, like sheep having no shepherd.”
He tells his disciples, “The harvest truly is plentiful, but the laborers are few. Therefore pray the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest.”
Jesus didn’t just look at the multitudes. He saw them.
Matthew moves from what Jesus is doing to how he is doing it. Think about the commotion surrounding him. People clamor to get close, grab at him, talk, and argue. He isn’t taking a leisurely stroll through the Galilean countryside. His work creates disruption everywhere.
It would be easy to imagine him trying to pass quickly through all that commotion. But when he sees the people, he is moved with compassion. He sees people who are distressed, scattered, helpless, and without a shepherd.
That shepherd image is important throughout Scripture. “The Lord is my shepherd.” Jesus sees souls in need of care, love, and salvation. His compassion is a feeling that produces action.
One experience that brings this to mind for me is flying. It’s not my favorite. I’m not a huge fan of being tens of thousands of feet in the air with nothing beneath my feet. But when you can see the ground, it’s amazing. Cars look like tiny ants running along ribbons of road. Whole communities look like little Monopoly houses across the countryside.
I look down and wonder what’s going through the mind of the person in that car. What are they worried about? What’s happening with their family? What are they excited about? What news did they just receive?
There’s a whole big world happening outside that tiny car. But when we’re inside our own space, we get caught up between our two ears.
Try this sometime in a coffee shop, or as you pass through a neighborhood. Wonder what the person in that house is anxious about or suffering from. Everybody is dealing with something. Everybody is someone God wants to extend his compassionate love toward.
Jesus tells his disciples to see the harvest. Every farmer understands the urgency when grain ripens. Action is required; the harvest window doesn’t remain open forever.
Jesus doesn’t say the harvest might be plentiful, or will someday be plentiful when conditions are better. He says it is plentiful now. People are ready to hear. They have questions. They are seeking hope, and Jesus can offer that hope.
We receive endless advice about how to live our best life. Much of it sounds safe and promising, but it has limits. What do we do when we reach the limits of what the world can offer?
The world needs what it can’t offer itself. Where will people find it if nobody stands up to do that work?
The shortage is in workers, people willing to get their hands dirty. Ministry means having your hands buried elbow-deep in soil. It isn’t always easy or clean. It takes care, attention, and really seeing.
Highland Hills has more people engaged in different ministries than almost anywhere I’ve been. I applaud this family for that. But there are always more needs, opportunities, and people God is calling to join his work.
Someone once compared church to a football game: thousands in the stands desperately needing exercise, and twenty-two people on the field desperately needing rest. Ministry can feel like that sometimes.
God calls each of us to work, in the capacity we can, with the gifts he has given us and the time and opportunities we have now. Jesus is inviting his disciples to join what he is doing.
Who could show up at your door and invite you to join them that would make you over-the-top excited? An athlete? Someone whose books you read or videos you watch? Someone you’ve admired for years?
The God of the universe has invited us to join him in work that lasts eternally. People may forget the good things you do. Do them anyway. God doesn’t forget.
At the end of Matthew 9, Jesus says to pray for laborers. Then in chapter 10, he calls the twelve and sends them out. The men told to pray for laborers become the very laborers they prayed for.
The most effective sharing of the good news is often your life being changed by Jesus and shared with someone who needs that same change.
When I was younger and first getting into ministry, I was enamored with stories of people preaching one message and hundreds or thousands coming to Christ. I thought, “That’s what success in ministry looks like.” Then we went out, and it didn’t look like that.
Sometimes God works that way. But most often, as we’ve seen in Acts, he uses an open door to one person. One person who has a need. One person open to hearing Jesus. One person who says yes, repents, is baptized into him, and walks in the newness of life he gives.
Look for those doors. See them when they open. It’s an opportunity to bestow love—the love Jesus has gifted to us. My love is fickle, but his is awesome and unchanging. Sharing Jesus with you is a way of loving you, just as someone opened that door for me.
Imagine what would happen if every family in our congregation chose one person to pray for. What if each of us said, “I’m going to have one gospel conversation this week”? What if we allowed compassion to displace our indifference and realized that God has invited us into his eternal work?
People are starving for truth and love. Jesus can fill their soul’s hunger. We have been given the gift of joining him in offering that invitation.
Lift up your eyes this week. Intentionally see one person God is placing in your path.
