I find one of the most fascinating accounts in the New Testament to be Jesus’ account of the Last Judgment in Matthew 25, the separating of the sheep and the goats.

To the sheep on his right, he says, “Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; for I was hungry and you gave me food; I was thirsty and you gave me drink; I was a stranger and you welcomed me; I was naked and you gave me clothing; I was sick and you took care of me; I was in prison and you visited me.”

I find the response interesting. Hearing Jesus’ words, their response is, “When was it …?” They are amazingly unaware! Can’t they remember doing these things?

Then, when Jesus reverses the message and says, “I was hungry and you didn’t feed me,” the goats to the left have the same response: “When was that?” What is going on here? Memory loss?

The point is that when the sheep are separated from the goats, there will be a lot of surprised members of the flock. This is not only because we will be judged according to a wisdom greater than ours, but because some people will have been too busy doing good to think about their salvation. I think there is a message in this.

The fact that some people will be surprised reminds me of what C.S. Lewis called “The Principle of Inattention.” In other words, there are some things in life that can only be yours when you are not looking for them.

For example, I know a lot of people who are trying desperately to be happy. And many of them are the most miserable people I know. But when you are doing something else, whether it’s painting a picture, writing a book, volunteering a service, talking with people, or loving your spouse, then, in the midst of it all, you may be surprised to see that you are suddenly, inexplicably, unexpectedly happy. Do you see? It’s the principle of inattention. You found happiness, precisely because you were not paying attention to it, but to something else.

Have you ever tried to be humble? If you have, you’ve not found it; because the moment you think you have become humble, you’re proud of it!

Have you ever tried to “get culture?” You go to the symphony, and, instead of enjoying the performance, there you are, watching yourself watching the orchestra, and you’re not really enjoying any of it — until you let go and let yourself be surprised by the beauty of it. It’s the principle of inattention.

Trying to be good is the same. Try to be good, and all you’re likely to end up with is a good case of self-righteousness. But try to be more loving, and, as a byproduct, you will end up being a better person. There it is again — the principle of inattention!

This is a great challenge, but I think it lies at the heart of this thing called faith. It is to lose yourself in love so that, after acting lovingly, you find yourself asking, “When was that?” There is nothing I admire more than the inattention of those who love that way.