Looking Into Faces

“What changed me was I looked at his face… God gave us faces so we can see each other better. I used to not look at people’s faces so much, but I’m learning, just like I’m looking at you right now.”

— Allen Levi, Theo of Golden

A dear friend recently gave me the book Theo of Golden by Allen Levi. It is a transformational book—one meant to be savored rather than rushed. This is not a novel you fly through. It’s one you move slowly with, one that invites pauses, reflection, and feeling. It’s the kind of book that quietly, but significantly, changes you. It will leave you with the sense that you might actually be a better human for having read it. I highly recommend it to anyone who enjoys a book to savor, to think about, and to truly feel. It is, without question, an aspirational novel.

The quote from Theo of Golden has a way of lingering. God gave us faces so we can see each other better. Faces are not just physical features; they are invitations. They ask us to slow down, to notice, to connect. And yet, how often do we really look? Not glance. Not assess. But look into a face and allow ourselves to see the human being there.

A look into someone’s eyes often changes the conversation. It asks for time, for deeper thought, for understanding. When we look into someone’s eyes, we are reminded that we are in the presence of a human being—a human soul. Someone who may not be at their best in that moment. Someone who may not yet be who they want to be. And yet, someone who still wants to live a good life.

So many of the divisions we experience—personally, socially, culturally—are reinforced by not looking deeply enough. When we look only at people, we see differences, symbols, and stories we think we already know. Often, when we look into people, we encounter complexity, vulnerability, dignity, and shared humanity.

Why is it so hard to pay attention to the face? Why do we so often value judgment over curiosity, dismissal over understanding, or certainty over compassion? What might soften if we chose to see faces not as surfaces to critique, but as doorways into another person’s lived experience?

Coaching reminds us that transformation often begins with awareness—and awareness begins with how we interpret what we see. To look into a face is a quiet act of courage. It requires presence. It asks us to stay open rather than reactive, human rather than hardened.

Perhaps the invitation is simple and profound: look into faces. See the person, not just the presentation. Honor the humanity, even when it’s complicated, unfinished, or imperfect.

That kind of seeing just might change us.

Gentle reflections:

1. When do you notice yourself looking at people rather than into them—and what shifts when you slow down and truly see?

2. Who in your life might be asking, silently, to be seen beyond appearances or assumptions?

In your corner,

Linda