Compassion

II Cor. 2:3-5- "Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ; the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God.  For just as the suffering of Christ flows over into our lives, so also through Christ our comfort overflows." 

Matt-

He looked up at me; eyes filled with tears and fear.  I saw pain through those two telling blue windows.  Paralyzed!  Panic!  My mind worked 8 million miles a minute.  But nothing of use came.  I just looked at him.  He looked at the ground.  Then, without warning, something strange happened.  I felt what he felt.  A door opened to a space inside me I could never draw a map to.  And in that room were his emotions.  Oh God, there was so much happening in his small soul.  I mean, Jesus, how could he explain it?  And for Christ's sake, he could not understand it!!  But somehow he knew I felt what he felt.  And when I reached my hand to his shoulder a spark of genuine connection lit.  Compassion. 

This story happened a couple days ago when the captain of my U14 boy's soccer team wanted to quit because "he wasn't a good enough leader" … he's a great leader with a lot of potential!  Afterward, I thought a lot about my interaction with him.  Yet, I didn't really know how to categorize it.  Then, this morning, while reflecting on Paul's proposition: "Jesus is the father of all compassion and the God of all comfort," I had a physiological reaction.  It seemed strange to me that words written thousands of years ago concerning a man I've "never met" could induce a response such as it did.  But it did!!  I felt strangely warm and wonderful!  And suddenly, my moment with Matt made sense. 

I love life today!  I feel so much hope.  Something strange is happening around my heart.  I find it exhilarating.

I believe compassion is glory unveiled.  It happens when the tether of loneliness breaks loose.  Intimacy releases at a rapid rate!  And the heart becomes surrounded by joy. 

Paul says Jesus is the father of compassion.  I guess that means he spends most of his time in eternity feeling what human beings feel.  That seems pretty ridiculous to me!  Why would God want to feel what I feel all the time?  Seriously, if I had ultimate sovereignty and a Ferrari, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't spend my days in the heart-space of those around me, encapsulated by their emotions.  But I guess that's why I'm merely an infant of compassion and not the father of it.  Jesus invented the sport.  And he plays at an incredible level. 

There are moments, like this morning, I honestly believe all this Bible stuff.  I and God connect.  Beauty!  I long for those moments and hours.  To take a deep drink from the ladle of Divine love displayed in connection is perhaps my ultimate desire.  I am me, then. 

The Seasons of a Day

The sun overtakes its counterpart. 

Placid waters wake. 

Morning is a curious time.  

Potential. 

Possibility. 

Dissapointment. 

Time Narrates.

Mid day heat.

Business spins.

Loneliness settles in. 

Work. 

Dusk is poetry.

Rosebuds of clouds.

Bugs buzz.

Family and happiness reunite.

Satisfied.

Darkness. 

Stars and constellations speak.

Wisdom from the past.

We are alone together.

But all-together separate.

Heavy eyes.

Blankets and brushed teeth.

Dream. 

A Sacred Romance

This is a story; a parable.  An invitation into the seasons of love.  Sit in the sensory experience.  Allow an interlude among the palpable.  Wander into wonder.  And explore a sacred romance.

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Once upon a time a boy loved a girl.  And this boy said it over and over and over again.  He said it in many ways.  With his words-- splendid poetry and prose.  With his heart-- noble actions sweeping her off her feet.  And with his eyes; those big, inviting drops of cool water she could stare into for hours.   

Eventually, this girl fell into love with this boy.  And each morning she rose to find another rose upon her cheek.  How her heart melted deeply against his.  He chased and she ran; delightfully into his arms.  What a beautiful picture of love’s beginning glory. 

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Could happiness taste any sweeter? he wondered; laying, star struck and staring into the constellation filled black sky?  The air around smelled of lilac.  Pleasantness became an ever-present feeling inside his heart.  He used a pillow of grass to rest his head, his mind felt content waiting for her.  She promised to come.  And though she fell ill right before their last rendezvous, he treasured the hope of her impending arrival! 

Yet, illness was not her malady then.  And it would not be tonight.  The clasp of another man’s hand on her breast and the passion of infidelity was her sickness. 

Afterward she loathed life; lying lecherous in lies and lust.  Soaked in mud, her previous screams of pleasure turned to unending groans of guilt.

Yet, time and again she released her heart free into captivity.  So fast and far that the bitter taste of adultery soon became all her soul knew. 

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Blood soaked the bed.  White sheets stained.  The piercing reality of previous infidelity pervaded the stillness of the room.  “Why?”  He asked, as tears filled his eyes-- those cool drops of water turned murky red.  “Can pain really be this intense?  Can hurt truly penetrate to my core?” 

She sat, staring silently.  The room spun as he spoke.  Searing!  Sad!  Small!  Soft kisses were all she could offer.  Drying his tears. 

Yet, they were replaced immediately by more salty sorrow.  They held each other.  Both weeping.  Both wounded.  Both regretting. 

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Gray hair and a golden dress adorn her frail body.  Years of happiness and hearth are behind her.  He walks up from behind.  A light kiss touches her wrinkled cheek and his hand brushes hers.  A simultaneous smile radiates in the evening sun as the wind blows the grass around them.  Music from another world softly plays.  They dance together in pure perfection.  It’s a sacred moment of romance long deserved. 

Into the Darkness

Darkness is pending

The sun dwindles; an orange glow pervades. 

Light fades; softly. 

Warm air chills.

Dusk takes over.

Ominous.

She lights the hearth.

Outside, stars begins to shine.

The moon takes its place of prominence. 

She looks at him.

Change.  

His face is sullen;

Hard, and illuminated as though by a shadow rather than light.

She remembers when he used to smile.

Making everyone feel safe. 

Making her feel happy. 

A tear appears. 

Yet, not from fresh pain. 

So many years together.

So many nights of loneliness. 

He’s gone. 

Into the darkness. 

Life Flavor

After I returned form New Orleans life became a different flavor of coffee.  The darkness of suffering was ground into my soul, pouring out a rich blackness that before swam with sugar and cream. 

And to be honest; it was a difficult transition.  An almost unexplainable sense of hurt pervaded my soul and seeped into my day.  It sprinkled my tongue with anger and my mind with disillusionment.  I felt lost a lot.  I became afraid.  I looked around with frantic eyes. 

But today, even as clouds envelop the city, they evaporate from my heart.  Light streams in.  Hope sprays out in all directions.  

God is near.  I can feel it.  My eyes see the potential of each moment.  My ears hear a soft melody of laughter.  Each second life grows and death dissipates. 

I am thankful for change.  Progress is a reality. Transformation is temporary.  I believe that what is does not have to be.  What could be is only an attempt away.

And even though there is a darker tone and a richer taste to the flavor of my life, it only adds to the pleasure of each drink.  I am no longer the same.  I am better.