"We do magic tricks," says Ken Loyd, that white-haired pirate of a preacher who loves on the homeless men and women of Portland, Oregon. "We make the invisible become visible just by paying attention."

Ken is a friend to some of the city's most ignore citizens - those who live outside, aka the homeless. Ken has discovered, like my good friend Denie in Boise, Idaho, that simply giving time and friendship helps those who are forgotten and overlooked. It helps them mostly see themselves as the art of noticing inspires dignity among the undignified.

That's a crazy kind of invisibility, the kind of soul-bruising you-don't matter type of non-existence, like an inconsequential piece of litter lying on the sidewalk.

Homeless men and women are not the only ones to feel the rejection of invisibility. There are many sons and daughters in thousands upon thousands of families that are left to fend for themselves as mom and/or dad live deeply in self-involvement or outright neglect. Many around us live with the scars of abandonment that creates a kind of crippling sense of being a non-person. Of being less than. Of being invisible.

But there is another kind of invisibility, an obscurity that anchors itself into contented anonymity. It is much different than rejection and abandonment. It is a kind of discipline, like the philanthropists who quietly give to charities but do not want their name broadcast as the donor.  Or the good Samaritan who humbly goes their way never looking back as stand byers shout, "Hey, what's your name? We want everyone to know who you are and what you did!"

Jesus practiced this kind of self-imposed invisibility. Or at least he made a go of it. Like the time he healed a blind man and then told him, "Um, let's keep this on the down low. Let's keep it between us. Don't spread it around what I've done here for you."   As if...!  A man born blind is going to show up at his house in his small village and Jesus thinks he can keep that a secret? Jesus was attempting to keep his reputation from running away from him, from becoming a superstar, a celebrity rabbi who had the hot hands for healing. He was embracing obscurity as much as the Son of God could own with all the wild things he said and did in all those sleepy little towns. What was Jesus thinking!

There is an overlooked spiritual practice in the contemporary church of the discipline of being invisible. Of being unnoticed on purpose. Jesus, for example, told his followers to pray in secret and to also give money in secret. Jesus taught his disciples to fast quietly rather than draw attention to their spiritual prowess. Not in a creepy-secret-society kind of way. The purpose of Jesus' directive seemed to be purposeful anonymity, the willingness to be invisible. I suspect it has something to do with humility.

Flying low under the radar seemed to be Jesus' favorite strategy. There is a message in the New Testament that he didn't strive for people to understand his greatness. That was not his agenda. I think there is something remarkable to discover in that for my own life. Grand schemes to be in the spotlight on the stage of faith are unnecessary. Greatness is horribly overrated.

Jesus said it like this:   if you want to be great in God's kingdom, learn to be the servant of all.

And servants, like the homeless men and women of our cities, are the invisible citizens who quietly do good when no one is watching.