Unbeachtet von Menschen, beachtet von Gott

Lyrics   |   Scripture

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One evening I was lying in bed, thinking about which biblical story I could use for my next song. For those who don’t know, I’ve made it a habit to connect the intros of my songs with a biblical narrative. I was mentally going through different stories from the Gospels, when suddenly a sentence popped into my mind: The Rich Man and Lazarus. To be honest, it surprised me, because it’s not a story I would have necessarily chosen on my own.

The next morning I picked up my Bible. I wasn’t looking for anything in particular - I just opened it at random. And there it was, on the right-hand page: the story of the rich man and Lazarus. I stared at the page and quietly said, “Okay, Lord… if this is Your will, then I’ll do it. But You’ll have to help me. I have no idea how I’m supposed to tell this story.”

So I started researching. I wanted to understand what it feels like to be homeless. What goes through a person’s mind when hundreds of people pass them every day without even noticing them - like they’re invisible. Of course, I can imagine some of it, but I’ve never actually lived on the street myself. And if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that some kinds of pain can only really be understood when you’ve experienced them firsthand. I’ve gone through deep emotional pain in other areas of my life, and I know there are feelings that are almost impossible to explain - a kind of pain so deep that words eventually fall short.

So what does it do to a person to live in the middle of millions of people, and still disappear socially?

In studies and interviews, many homeless people describe very similar experiences. They talk about feeling invisible. About shame and losing their dignity. About constant stress and exhaustion. About loneliness, fear of violence or of the night, and a deep longing for something normal. One thing I found interesting is that many people on the street aren’t constantly thinking about money. More often, their thoughts revolve around safety, sleep, hygiene, warmth, belonging, and how others see them. Many are also dealing with mental health struggles and illness. Some live in constant fear. Some lose hope. Some take life one day at a time. Others are always dreaming of finding a way out. And some develop a very deep spiritual or philosophical perspective on life.

At the same time, there are reports that even small gestures can mean everything: being smiled at, being addressed by name, having a normal conversation, or a genuine “How are you?”. Not just having money dropped into a cup—but being seen as a human being.

That reminded me of something. For over two years, I had to walk through a subway tunnel twice a week where homeless people would often stay or sleep. And I remember that I didn’t like that route. I tried not to look, and I felt relieved when no one was there. Not because I despised those people—quite the opposite. I felt compassion. They made me sad. But I felt uneasy in their presence.

Sometimes I thought about buying sandwiches. I didn’t really like giving money, because I was afraid it might be used for alcohol or drugs. At the same time, money felt easier - just quickly dropping something in a cup and moving on. At least then I wouldn’t be completely looking away. There were times when I actually gave something here and there, but in that tunnel I never did. And every time, I felt guilty about it.

I’m a rather shy and introverted person. Encounters like that aren’t easy for me. It’s much easier for me to donate online to a Christian aid organization than to directly approach someone on the street. That doesn’t mean I’ve never done it - but I don’t do it often.

I’ve failed countless times in my life when it comes to looking away or not paying attention. But as I was developing and researching this song, I was once again overwhelmed by a deep compassion for the poor and the outcast. We don’t know a person’s story. We don’t know what they’ve been through. And we don’t necessarily need to.

All we really need to know is this: Jesus calls the poor man by name. His name is Lazarus. The rich man, on the other hand, remains unnamed—he’s simply “the rich man.” I find that striking. The one who, in this world, seemed completely unseen is the only one whose name is actually recorded. There’s something both comforting and sobering in that: before God, status, wealth, and achievement are not what define our identity. God doesn’t know people as “the successful one,” “the popular one,” “the poor one,” or “the failure.” He knows us by name. And if that’s true, then what actually remains of us when everything we use to define ourselves here on earth falls away?

Some might come away with the impression that the rich man ends up in hell simply because he was rich and already received his good things in life. But I don’t believe that’s the point. What’s interesting is that Lazarus, after his death, is carried to Abraham. And Abraham himself was wealthy and blessed by God. At the same time, he was generous, hospitable, and caring - very different from the rich man in the story, who saw the needy man every single day and still chose to look away.

With my song “Unbeachtet von Menschen, beachtet von Gott”, I want to encourage reflection and action—myself included. I’m a highly sensitive person with a lot of empathy. Other people’s suffering isn’t something I can ignore. But I often get held back by shyness, fear, and comfort.

A thought just came to me: how would I respond to someone if I could visibly see Jesus sitting or standing right next to them? I’m absolutely certain - I would act differently.

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Jesus is the greatest example we have. He turned toward people who were pushed to the margins, overlooked, or treated as if they didn’t matter. What stands out is not only that He helped—but how He helped. He often saw people before He did anything for them.

And many times, it almost seems as if Jesus intentionally sought out the very people everyone else walked past: the sick, the poor, widows, children, people with a bad reputation, the outcasts. What’s also interesting is that He didn’t only help people materially. He touched them, ate with them, talked with them, addressed them personally, and asked them, “What do you want Me to do for you?” That restores dignity.

But my song isn’t meant only to challenge. It’s also meant to bring hope—for people who are poor and hungry, who are crying, who are despised, mocked, or overlooked. Because God never overlooks anyone. Nothing is lost before Him. Every person is seen.