The Least of These My Brethren

He sits at my table. 

I feed him.

Physical nourishment. 

We feed him the Word. 

He; the downcast. 

Broken.

Struggling with mental illness. 

Trying to find his way in this world. 

He sits at my table. 

I fight the thoughts that permeate my mind. 

My son. 

Buried deep beneath the earth. 

Not at my table; while this one lives. 

Why? 

My son; a hard worker.

So young. 

A lover of God. 

Gone. 

And here. 

At my table the least of these. 

Matthew 25:40

"The King will reply, 'Truly I tell you,

 whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine,

 you did for me.'

I feed him. 

I pray in my heart for the demons that fill him to be gone. 

To receive the medical help he needs. 

This young man.

Each day a struggle. 

The least of these my brethren. 

I bow to the Holy. 

These days belong to the Lord. 

His will above mine. 

His ways. 

Isaiah 55:9

As the heavens are higher than the earth,
    so are my ways higher than your ways
    and my thoughts than your thoughts.

I relinquish my heartache and pain. 

I can not carry it. 

The longing too great. 

The pain crushing. 

I step into the work for today. 

Life on life. 

The gospel.

Life changing. 

Hope. 

Sometimes, It's Really Not Fair

The email pops up.

It's your birthday take $25 off your order. 

My mind racks. 

Whose birthday?

I look. 
He rarely used his e-mail for anything.
He used mine. 

My stomach lurches.

The reminders painful. 

I try to remember to breathe. 

I can't hold my breath each time; each time there is a reminder. 

Death is permanent. 

What's on the other side is eternal. 

But here, this side of eternity; it's permanent. 

And it will tear you apart. 

The missing reaches into places you never knew existed. 

It can twist and turn until you're in knots. 

That which you can never, ever have. 

Him whom you bore 9 months. 

Watched walk across the stage to receive his diploma.

So handsome.
So full of hopes and dreams.

The beginning of a new journey. 

Commencement. 

Yet it was his ending. 

Isaiah 40:8
The grass withers and the flowers fade,
    but the word of our God stands forever.

I am left here to step forward. 

To redesign my walk. 

Yet I stumble and I hit a wall. 

So, this day. 

I will cry. 

I will say it's not fair.

I will shout for anyone who wants to hear that driving by the bank every day IS HARD. 

Yet, I won't stay there. 

I will say thank you every time I drive by there.

Someone has so faithfully placed plants and cut the grass back.

The flags have been replaced and the old ones delivered respectfully to me. 

All the hope and loss wrapped in a package.
The steps through this journey purposeful.
Seeking.
Hoping. 
Holding tightly.
Where are you today?
How are you walking through your journey? 

The Cost Of The Cross

Snow. In April. 

Poor man's fertilizer. 

The temperature has dropped 30 degrees. 

The water has traveled outside it's boundaries. 

Warm air has given way to a bitter wind. 

Reminding us that winter has not had it's final say. 

It is Holy Week. 

For some, this means nothing.

For me. 

It is everything. 
The journey Jesus took to the cross is the defining piece of my faith. 

He came into Jerusalem Hailed as King and left Jerusalem via the cross.

He took on the dirty and broken; so that we might live. 

He died to save a wretch like me; 

when He himself was sinless. 

And as we travel to the cross this week. 

I weigh the cost. 

It cost him everything that I might have life. 

He had no regard for his own being. 

He willingly laid down his life for mine. 

It was not taken. He gave. 

I do nothing to deserve it. 

It's mine. Because He said so. 

As I watch rivers skip their banks,

 and water erode a section on a road in a matter of moments;

I am reminded that things of this earth are temporal. 

This is not our home. 

Matthew 6:19-21

Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. “But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, 

where neither moth nor rust destroys, and where thieves do not break in or steal;

 for where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

We're not home yet. 

This journey here is but a moment in the eyes of the Lord. 

We grieve this week for a friend. 

I am trying to sort it all out. 

We rejoice that he is home. 

He dances the streets of Gold with my son. 

He died serving. 

The cost of the cross. 

Doing what He felt God called Him to do. 

My heart knows this. 

But when that calling was for you the guilt thief struts in.

Bold and brass.

He died to help a wretch like me.

We will pay our last respects and celebrate his home going. 

Tucked right in the middle of Palm Sunday and Maundy Thursday. 

There is deep spiritual significance there. 

I will wrestle with this joy in the midst of grief. 

We are a people who grieve with hope; no matter how heavy the load becomes. 

All I know is I'm not home yet

This is not where I belong. 

Take this world and give me Jesus

This is not where I belong. 

Do You Long For The Struggle To End?

When I think I can't take it anymore. 

I breathe deep. 

There are 4 more days. We can do this. We can make it. 

My house is out of control. Insurances are waiting for forms, tax preparations loom. 

 I couldn't sleep last night. 

The first time in 6 months. I got up to pray and read those Ancient Words. 

I was reminded how the Israelite's were taken from their land. They were banished;

sent into an exile they had been warned about. 

Yet they were told to prosper where they were placed. 

Even though they weren't in their homeland; they were taken into captivity; 

they still had a purpose. Jeremiah 29:4-7

Even though great heartache and grief line our path; we are to prosper where we are. 

There is still purpose and there is meaning. There is hope. 

We are in the final days of radiation and chemo. 

We need to continue to be aware of where we can serve; 

of how we can share the grace that has been given to us. 

We are tired and worn. 

Yet through it all there is a reminder prosper where you are. Plant the fields. 

We have purpose and meaning. No matter how hard the road. 

I watch my farmer step each morning to the barn. 

I have watched for 20 years. 

A man born of routine and deep conviction. 

He has walked that well worn path everyday; 

even through chemo and radiation. 

There is purpose. There is meaning. 

Won't you walk that well worn path? 

Won't you find the peace and joy from a life surrendered?

Even in the middle of life's most darkest moments, when we are worn and tired;

 plant and prosper. 

There is a future.

There is redemption for those who trust; and call upon the name of Jesus. 

I have cried out these lyrics to this song since Elijah was taken home. 

I want to see redemption win. And I LONG for this struggle to end. 

But until then. We will plant and we will serve. 

I'm tired, I'm worn

my heart is heavy

from the work it takes

to keep on breathing

....Let me see redemption win

Let me know the struggle ends