There is something freeing, although terrifying, about sliding into the passenger seat by your worst fear and then staying buckled in to witness how it all plays out. And, there is something transforming, although uncomfortable, about choosing to enter in to another’s pain – not to fix, not to preach – but to simply identify with it out of compassion.
She named him Moses, “Because,” she said, “I drew him out of the water.” Exodus 2:10
I stopped on the story of Jesus and Lazarus the other day. Stopped right at the part about Jesus weeping.
He wept. Fully.
Compassion poured from His eyes and ran into His hands, hands which would soon enough be torn up on a bloody cross. Maybe He bent over in grief, pressing those hands to His mouth, without words.
“Do you have someone who can use some used toys (clothes, TV, etc?) Still works fine and everything; we are just upgrading and needing to clear out some space.”