How tortured must a soul be to come to the place where they are convinced they have but one option?
With our normal eyes in place, life is a beautiful thing. Surely there are distractions, obstacles, road blocks and even a roadside disruption from time to time. Those things tend to shape us, sharpen us and shake us into being what we are designed to be.
With normal eyes we see flowers and birds and the smiles of children. With normal eyes we see the cracks in the walkway and the bumps in the road and the ice-cream stand on the corner. With normal eyes we see the outsretched hands of a friend, the gentle wave of a neighbor and the rushing wave of the sea shore. With normal eyes we see the evil of the world and are warned, we see the comfort of the Word and are warmed. With normal eyes we see the rock in front of the mower, the glass too close to the edge and the remote control.
It is never all too easy and without it's challenges, but yes sir, life is beautiful as seen by normal eyes.
But then there is that turn from focus. Whatever the cause and whatever the staying power of the longivity of being out of focus, the ability to see life's beauty begins to fade. Something inside changes.
Each of us could draw up long lists of reasons that people under various circumstances would chose to end their own story. No matter our list and no matter their reasons, the unfortunate truth is their story does not in fact end. In many ways it may just begin and now they would have no input to the remainder.
For those who remain, their is no end or perhaps an end that doesn't end and that just doesn't seem fair. But what good would assigning new guilt be to one who can no longer recieve it and surely did not need it had they chosen to stay.
My heart aches for those who remain. My prayer is for gentle showers of forgiveness, peace and even joy to rain down on the dry, broken spirits of the hurting.
May our thanks be to God for His attitude that says "Come unto me all you who labor and are heavily burdened and I will give you rest."
Monday, January 4, 2010
Yesterday I preached a sermon entitled "This Old House" from II Corinthians 5:2 and talked about our earthly bodies. For emphasis for my second point concerning the fact that our bodies are deteriorating I wrote a poem and decided to share it with you here.
"Am I Getting Old Or What?"
My eyes are dimming, I cannot see & my hair is turning gray,
My ears are plugged, I can bearly hear & my teeth are going away.
My feet are sore & with arthritis my hands are bent,
My blood's growing thin, I'm getting cold again & now my energy is spent.
My bones are crackling, I wake up hacking and I think I lost some lung,
I'm not going out, I'm nursing my gout & now I watch birds for fun.
I used to play & run all day & I never seemed to tire,
But now I'm pooped & I missed a loop & I need to sit by the fire.
So, the light's still on & I still have a song but the pace has slowed a great deal,
So pass me my teeth & roll down my sleeves & get me some water for my pill.
Turn up the sound, help me sit down & get me some lotion for my skin,
Wait a minute, help me back up & point the way, Cause I think I have to go again!