The Power of Perspective (And All the Ways We Get It Wrong)

I was OVER IT!

The treadmill was stuck in the doorway, as if it had decided, right then and there, that this was its forever home. The door frame? Absolutely destroyed. Scratched, hanging on for dear life. At one point, I was distraught that I had torn up the door frame. I touched jagged wood. I just stood there, staring at my finger, now bleeding.

So naturally, I Facetime my husband.

I’m holding my finger up to the camera, giving him every angle like I’m checking into a virtual ER. “Be honest… do I need stitches?”

And he, completely calm, totally unbothered, says, “Pam… you need a Band-Aid.”

A Band-Aid? Sir. Read the room. I’m dying.

Meanwhile, the treadmill is still stuck. I’m stuck. My 12-year-old runs to get a Band-Aid. My 15-year-old is fully committed, like we are not quitting now.

How did we get here?

Last week, I decided to rearrange some things in my house. I wanted to move the treadmill out of my room and into the office so everyone could use it. Simple. Easy.

So my 12-year-old and I took the door off the bedroom, shimmied that sucker down the hallway, and right to the office door. Success.  

Then…it’d didn’t fit through the office door.

Then we started taking the treadmill apart, removing screws that will never find their home again.

So we took that door off, too. Tried every angle. Pushed. Tilted. Lifted. There was sweat. A blood. A lot of determination.

And still… nothing.

Now that the treadmill is sitting there, halfway in, halfway out… like it can’t decide where it belongs.

Waiting on my husband to get off his hospital shift and come rescue his wife from her own grand plan.

And the wild part?

I was so sure it would fit.

I could see it in my head. It made perfect sense to me. From my perspective, this was supposed to be easy. Logical. Done in an hour.

But I wasn’t seeing clearly.

I was only seeing what made sense to me.

I’ve been praying for discernment—for eyes to really see people. But what I’m realizing is that sometimes, even when your eyes are open, you’re still looking through your own lens.

Last week at church, my pastor, shout out, Luke, talked about the woman at the well.

I love that story. It’s juicy gossip.

At first glance, it feels like Jesus is calling her out. Five husbands? And the man you’re with now isn’t your husband? Whew.

And if I’m honest, it’s easy to read that and think… man, I’m glad that’s not my story.

But then my perspective shifted.

What if her story wasn’t a scandal… but survival?

Back then, women couldn’t just leave. But men could. Over anything. Burning dinner. Not having children. Things are completely out of their control.

So what if she wasn’t bouncing from man to man…

What if she had been left, over and over again?

What if her story held more pain than it did poor choices?

And just like that, the lens changed.

Here I was making assumptions, filling in gaps with my own perspective… without knowing the full story.

And we still don’t fully know it.

Only she did.

And Jesus, of course

I pray for discernment in seeing people. But I’m realizing I also need to pray for perspective.

Because discernment without perspective can turn into judgment real quick.

We walk into situations with “my side” and “their side,” and we rarely step back far enough to see the whole picture.

We see a post online and interpret it through our own story.

We hear a comment and filter it through our own wounds.

We watch someone’s life from the outside and fill in the blanks with what we think makes sense.

But we don’t actually know.

Maybe they’re celebrating.

Maybe they’re grieving.

Maybe they’re carrying something heavy that we can’t see at all.

I want to believe the world is full of kind, good people. And I know that’s not always the full truth.

But I do think this is true:

If I can step back…

If I can loosen my grip on my own perspective…

If I can stop trying to force people into the frame that makes sense to me…

Before we decide someone “doesn’t fit."

Maybe I can see them more clearly.

Maybe I can understand better.

Maybe I can love better.