I stood looking at myself in the bathroom mirror this morning… disgusted. My heart was breaking and the longer I looked the more it broke, until I could look no longer, I had to look away. “Please help me”, those words kept ringing in my ears. I could not shut them out. Those eyes, black and despairing, kept staring at me out from under the tattered blanket… “please help me… please help me… please help…” I had not recognized Him – how was that possible?
I was enjoying an evening out with friends in a local eatery last evening. The day had been a day like any other. Church in the morning, casual conversation with friends, knowing my Lord was with me and enjoying His company. As the night was drawing to a close and everyone had left the establishment I was the last out the door. The moment I exited I found myself face to face with a women covered in a worn and dirty blanket. She stared at me for just a moment with hollow black eyes then she said, “Please help me”. Those were the only words that left her lips… “Please help me”. As she continued to look into my eyes I turned my face away and muttered, “Not tonight”.
What a horrible thing to say. What a cold and callused thing to do. A chill ran through me as the words left my lips and I was horrified… but I crossed the street and walked away from her. Even now, as I think about it, tears are coming again.
As I reached my car not 10 seconds later I knew I had to do something. I looked back to find her and she was gone. My eyes went in all directions but I could not find her, she was just gone. I got in my car and told my passengers what had happened. I explained that I needed to help but as we pulled away from the curb and continued to look for her she was not to be found.
I drove off but could not get the incident out of my mind. I thought about her all the way home. All the different possible responses I should have given kept screaming in my head. I should have taken her back into the establishment and bought her a dinner and paid for her to stay in out of the cold for at least a few hours. How hard would that have been? Why didn’t I do at least that? How could I walk away? Am I nothing more than a Pharisee, crossing the road to avoid the injured Samaritan? Do I serve my Lord merely in word with no action? I profess He lives within me, how could I walk away from JESUS so easily?!!
There it was… How could I just walk right past Jesus and not stop to help? What had I done? “What you do unto the least of these you do as unto Me” Jesus stood on that cold, dark sidewalk last night covered in nothing more than a dirty, worn blanket, looked into my eyes and pleaded for help. I walked away!!! How could I do that?
Oh what a retched man am I. That is all I can think right now. A dear and loving friend has already told me Jesus does not shame. I love my friend for that and I know it to be true. But my heart is broken. I am profoundly sad right now. This is something Jesus and I must and will work out. Oh what a hard lesson He has for me.
I love you Jesus and I am so so heartfully sorry.
Monday, December 20, 2010
Saturday, August 14, 2010
A Quiet Ride Home
August 13, 2010
10:00 pm
I just returned home after spending the evening with my friend. He told me he is going to die soon… 6 to 12 months are his doctors’ best guess… nothing they can do.
Things were quiet during the car ride home. I’m not quite sure I know how I feel about this whole thing. That thought kept playing over and over in my mind… it still does. How should I feel… how do I feel… how will I feel… is any of it appropriate… is there such a thing as “appropriate” at a time such as this?
This is a singularly special relationship I share with this man. No better or worse than similar relationships I share with other Christian brothers; but this is a longer relationship, that has passed through many varied stages, and is currently in a very different place than I ever anticipated at the beginning. I have come to love this man through the years we shared.
We sat tonight and we talked. We were choked up at times and we laughed at times. He told me of his “bucket list” and how he hoped it would play out. He spoke of returning to his homeland across the sea and visiting one last time with his parents to say good-bye. He talked of visiting his favorite mountains in Utah and seeing the slopes he so loved to ski. He talked mostly of spending time with his friends and loved ones, as much time as possible.
I sensed a predictable sadness in him, as any person would experience when being separated from all that he knows and loves without a choice. Yet there was neither fear nor anger. He spoke of being the lucky one. The one who would be with Jesus, waiting for the rest of us to get there. He spoke of giving his entire life to the Lord five years ago and that it is the Lord’s to do with as He wills.
I know all this to be true and I am inspired. I am so proud of him and happy for him and sad for him and heart broken for me and… I don’t know what. My life has been touched by death many times in the past several years. It is never easy, it is sometimes very sad. I don’t want to say what you expect me to say, or what I expect me to say. I don’t want to feel what I’m expected to feel. This time is different… I’m not sure how… yet.
10:00 pm
I just returned home after spending the evening with my friend. He told me he is going to die soon… 6 to 12 months are his doctors’ best guess… nothing they can do.
Things were quiet during the car ride home. I’m not quite sure I know how I feel about this whole thing. That thought kept playing over and over in my mind… it still does. How should I feel… how do I feel… how will I feel… is any of it appropriate… is there such a thing as “appropriate” at a time such as this?
This is a singularly special relationship I share with this man. No better or worse than similar relationships I share with other Christian brothers; but this is a longer relationship, that has passed through many varied stages, and is currently in a very different place than I ever anticipated at the beginning. I have come to love this man through the years we shared.
We sat tonight and we talked. We were choked up at times and we laughed at times. He told me of his “bucket list” and how he hoped it would play out. He spoke of returning to his homeland across the sea and visiting one last time with his parents to say good-bye. He talked of visiting his favorite mountains in Utah and seeing the slopes he so loved to ski. He talked mostly of spending time with his friends and loved ones, as much time as possible.
I sensed a predictable sadness in him, as any person would experience when being separated from all that he knows and loves without a choice. Yet there was neither fear nor anger. He spoke of being the lucky one. The one who would be with Jesus, waiting for the rest of us to get there. He spoke of giving his entire life to the Lord five years ago and that it is the Lord’s to do with as He wills.
I know all this to be true and I am inspired. I am so proud of him and happy for him and sad for him and heart broken for me and… I don’t know what. My life has been touched by death many times in the past several years. It is never easy, it is sometimes very sad. I don’t want to say what you expect me to say, or what I expect me to say. I don’t want to feel what I’m expected to feel. This time is different… I’m not sure how… yet.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Lucky boy - Happy Fathers Day Dad
Yesterday was Fathers Day 2010.
Another one has come and gone... number 57 in my lifetime.
There are actually very few days that go by I don't think, at least in passing, about the man God gave me as my father. I have considered many times how lucky I am to have been blessed with him as my dad. It is impossible to tell you how and why I feel this way. There is no way to relate 57 years of life into words with any accuracy, without taking 57 years to tell the story. Neither you nor I have the time for that. So you just have to take me at my word when I tell you my dad was the perfect dad.
I don't mean to say he was a perfect man. He was a man, like any other man, with all of his human flaws. But for me - for this boy - he was the perfect dad. He was exactly the man God new I needed to become a man myself. He was the perfect combination of strength, gentleness, humor, passion, love and caring. But above all else, his most important and endearing quality was the unrestrained passion with which he loved my mother. There was never a moment in our lives that my siblings and I ever questioned that love. It was obvious and out in the open for all to see every day of his life. I can't begin to explain how critical that one quality is for a boy to grow into a proper man... the man he was intended to be.
I read an article the other day by a man that felt the same way about his dad as I do. He talked at length about the wonderful years he spent with his dad and how much he misses him now that he is gone. He talked about the great sadness he feels sometimes at the loss of this great man. But... I like the way he ended his article... it quite made the point. So I will conclude this writing with an excerpt from that article.
"So here's the uplifting part: It's okay to feel this pain. In fact, when you've been as lucky as I was in the father department, it would be an outrage not to cry. You can't have an up without a down, a right without a left, an back without a front - or a happy without some sad. This is the price you pay for having a great father. You get the wonder, the joy, the tender moments - and you get the tears at the end too."
Happy Fathers Day dad.
I miss you, I appreciate you, I love you.
Another one has come and gone... number 57 in my lifetime.
There are actually very few days that go by I don't think, at least in passing, about the man God gave me as my father. I have considered many times how lucky I am to have been blessed with him as my dad. It is impossible to tell you how and why I feel this way. There is no way to relate 57 years of life into words with any accuracy, without taking 57 years to tell the story. Neither you nor I have the time for that. So you just have to take me at my word when I tell you my dad was the perfect dad.
I don't mean to say he was a perfect man. He was a man, like any other man, with all of his human flaws. But for me - for this boy - he was the perfect dad. He was exactly the man God new I needed to become a man myself. He was the perfect combination of strength, gentleness, humor, passion, love and caring. But above all else, his most important and endearing quality was the unrestrained passion with which he loved my mother. There was never a moment in our lives that my siblings and I ever questioned that love. It was obvious and out in the open for all to see every day of his life. I can't begin to explain how critical that one quality is for a boy to grow into a proper man... the man he was intended to be.
I read an article the other day by a man that felt the same way about his dad as I do. He talked at length about the wonderful years he spent with his dad and how much he misses him now that he is gone. He talked about the great sadness he feels sometimes at the loss of this great man. But... I like the way he ended his article... it quite made the point. So I will conclude this writing with an excerpt from that article.
"So here's the uplifting part: It's okay to feel this pain. In fact, when you've been as lucky as I was in the father department, it would be an outrage not to cry. You can't have an up without a down, a right without a left, an back without a front - or a happy without some sad. This is the price you pay for having a great father. You get the wonder, the joy, the tender moments - and you get the tears at the end too."
Happy Fathers Day dad.
I miss you, I appreciate you, I love you.
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