I used to think it meant something about some great vocation or ministry. But lately I am wondering if God did not “call” me to live here because he knew it would save my life. He knew I needed to learn to be human.
The trees around me I now see are people
Wiser than men, they are children.
Far from being stones, they sing praises like birds for proof of hearing.
Eternity resounds in their hearts of flesh.
When bad news shatters our world, there is hope. Isaiah 53:3 describes Jesus as being “acquainted with grief.” We know from Scripture that since the fall, God has suffered with humans.
One day we were all sitting together in the living room, and I asked a question that I had never asked before: “Guys – are we church?” We all paused for thought.
Daughters, I want you to be
clowns of a cosmic comedy that makes mockery of the world
that says you are the main attraction
and not pantomimes of unselfish Love.
What we are most excited for is those small moments where we get to see Jesus in the eyes of our neighbours, and the ways we can receive what they have to teach us.
My sons, the world will expect you to lift many burdens
but I tell you, the strength of your arms is
to lift children, love the poor,
and embrace the weak;
strengthen your feeble arms but carry only the Light Load.
Somehow, in all of this darkness and brokenness and ugliness, Christ is here. I have found him more here than in the happy wholeness of before.
What is the point? Why am I even here? I’m just making things worse for everyone.
May my work today be for your worship, and the good of your creation. Redefine my idea of success for today. Make me a better worker.