Monday evening, I sat on the couch cradling my four-year-old niece, Anna, who was crying out in agony from an ear ache. “Ouchhh,” she cried, in between tears and sniffles, as she buried her head in my chest and snuggled closer. “Just…snuggle me,” she said, trying to catch her breath. I held her closer and rubbed her back, willing her pain and tears to be gone. My heart was aching as I held her.

“I love you so much, Anna. I’m so sorry,” I whispered.

Being a grown adult, I don’t often reflect on the age-old phrase, “Jesus loves me.” But that evening, the imagery of comforting a child in my arms reawakened me to the love that God has for me (for you). I was reminded of the times I’ve been snuggled by the healer who held me close in my pain and questioning. I was reminded of the whisper, “I love you, Bethany. I’m so sorry. Let me hold you.”

In this season of Lent (the 40 days leading up to Easter), as we remember the sacrifice and suffering that was experienced for each of us-for every man, woman and child in our shared world-may we cling to the truth that the Almighty knows and loves us. Regardless of our place on our journey or of a past that threatens to swallow us we are deeply and endlessly loved. And forgiven.

Like Anna’s pain, we are a deeply hurting nation. A polarized nation absolutely, but also a hurting nation. Political and personal issues divide families, poverty denies families access to basic needs, violence steals precious lives by the thousands, invisible and real walls box people in where they don’t belong, racism continues to oppress, and injustice hate and fear seem to multiply at every turn. When we’re at our best, we ache for the ability to understand one another through our disagreement and disbelief. When we’re at our worst? God and the children in his lap are wailing, doing their ugly cry.

So, as followers of Jesus, cloaked in his endless and undeserved love, how are we called to react to this flood of tears from humanity’s collective pain?

In Ephesians, we read clear instructions for living and find perhaps an answer to a question that haunts many: But what can I do to make a difference? How can I help to heal the pain of so many and react to the growing injustice?

“Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.” Ephesians 4:32

Breath in the words slowly with me and dream about what they mean in your context. For me, they boil down to two points.

1. Pay attention.

Paying attention is a prerequisite to empathy, kindness and compassion. Unfortunately, some days I sprint between appointments, caught up in my own concerns and laser-focused on what I need to do next to finish my daily list. I rat-race-it through the day with my head down, chomping through my to-do list like a beaver attacking a tree. Not so helpful for paying attention!

However, when I’m able to live mindfully I breathe in the people around me. I’m able to put my own self-interest on the shelf and lean into what is on the hearts and minds of those around me: family, acquaintances, neighbors, people in our church, people we pass on the street, in the airports or in the grocery store. What are they thinking? What are they feeling? What are they up against?

Paying attention to the people around us may conjure up a variety of emotions. Seeing people where they are doesn’t mean giving people a free pass when we’ve been hurt or mistreated. But Scripture call us to be kind and compassionate which must start with momentarily living in others’ shoes.

This short clip on empathy has changed the way I walk through life.

What are the captions of your friends, family, coworkers and the strangers you pass on the streets? Pay attention. Empathy will change you if you let it.

2. Choose kindness and compassion.

Once we pay attention and embrace empathy, we have a choice: let it reside there or live out our love through kindness and compassion. Love is a verb, friends. In today’s hurting society, we need not look far to notice who is in need of a random act of love and compassion. Look not just to those in our circles, but also to those on the periphery. Who is showing love and amplifying the voices of the marginalized? This is who we are are called to embrace and support.

Choosing kindness is not like the punch card at our favorite coffee shop. We can’t show compassion in the spirit of reciprocity. We offer it out of love with no expectations in return.

Full disclosure: choosing compassion can be straight up uncomfortable, but in the words of vulnerability scholar Brene Brown, “You can choose courage or you can choose comfort, but you cannot choose both.” Let’s choose courage. Please, let me choose courage.

God, remove our blinders so we can see and love others as you do. Give us the ability and will to live mindfully so we can choose kindness and compassion. Regardless of religious and political preferences, regardless of sexual identity, regardless of race or gender or appearance or economic differences. Help us to embody the love that you give us freely and to give it away to others this Lenten season and beyond. Help us to embody that love often and without expectations.

Bethany Shue Nussbaum resides in Northeast Ohio with her husband, Scott. In her 14th year of professional fundraising, she works for MEDA (Mennonite Economic Development Associates) as senior development officer, encouraging generosity to help people and communities on their journey out of poverty. In addition to exploring new travel places with Scott, you can find her reading, working with flowers, hosting or dreaming up themed gatherings and spending time with her sisters and their kiddos.