Pain

Here I am researching the ministry opportunities for Christian counselors, and the ministry opportunities are enough to make one fall over with the immensity of them. Over and over again, page after page-so many ways for we, as Christians, to be the hands and feet of Christ. He has enabled us to be healers, comforters, ambassadors, servants. And yet where do we sit? At home, on our couches, in front of TVs scoffing at the commercials of starving children. But what are we commanded?

"When the Son of Man comes in His glory, and all the angels with Him, then He will sit on His glorious throne. Before Him will be gathered all the nations, and He will separate people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. And He will place the sheep on His right, but the goats on the left. Then the King will say to those on His right, "Come, you who 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 clothed Me, I was sick and you visited Me, I was in prison and you came to Me." Then the righteous will answer Him, saying, "Lord, when did we see You hungry and feed You, or thirsty and give You drink? And when did we see You a stranger and welcome You, or naked and clothe You? And when did we see You sick or in prison and visit You?" And the King will answer them, "Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these My brothers, you did it to Me." "Then he will say to those on His left, "Depart from Me, you cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. For I was hungry and you gave Me no food, I was thirsty and you gave Me no drink, I was a stranger and you did not welcome Me, naked and you did not clothe Me, sick and in prison and you did not visit Me." Then they also will answer, saying, "Lord, when did we see You hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not minister to You?" Then He will answer them, saying, "Truly, I say to you, as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to Me." And these will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life." {Matthew 25:31-41}

Why do we not go out and do, why do we not see all the pain of the world and seek to heal and soothe souls in the name of Jesus?  "My brothers, this should not be so."

Thudding Heart

In the silence I hear the clock tick. In the stillness I can feel my heart thud within my chest. In the growing darkness faintly I can see my chest pulsating to match my heart. I feel almost too tired to move. It's this time of year again when there is so much to do that I feel as if I should collapse under the weight of it all, and all I wish to do is simply rest. But I cannot, for one pause may undo all the hours of sweat and work, pain and sleeplessness. My eyes are tired tonight. Not as if they are soon called to sleep, but tired like a man awake with insomnia, a man whose mind can never let him rest. My mind tries to tell me again and again all the ways I am not good enough. It tries to parade my faults and imperfections in front me, over and over again, like the repeating of a nightmare. So many struggles, so many fears, and they always seem to surge back like the waves of an upset sea. Some moments it's all I can do to keep treading water, it's all I can do to gasp for one more breath. Though, in the end, no matter what struggles I must face day to day-nightmares, past or present-no matter what storms my mind and life may be hurling, my soul, the deepest, truest part of me is lodged safely in the palm of my Redeemer's hand. I shall never be plucked out, I shall never be put to shame.

A Still Form in the Street

Too weak to lift my eyes, too tired to lift my head. Lying on the ground, the rain soothing tired limbs. My cheek resting against the moist earth, the mud splashing up, but washing down my face. I close my eyes and do not wish to open them tonight. The cold begins to soak into my bones, and somehow I can no longer feel my toes. My parched lips part and gasp for deeper air, and my swollen lids crack open but see nothing but darkness there. I am lying in the middle of a lonely street, mud in my hair, tears on my cheeks. Too tired to move, my body so weak. There is no one to help, no help will come. So I'll lay in the cold street, till morning light comes; but when the people shall see me, I shall be already gone.