6/6/13

pilgrimage



"Four girls on a pilgrimage to see the heart of God."

We let the words rest on the computer screen as we sat nestled into a small booth in the cozy cafe. Some underrated jazz band was playing in the background and the winter sky was starless.

"I like it," one of us finally said, half whispering, realizing the preciousness of this moment.

For we had finally captured it. Put it in a bottle and got to hold it with our feeble hands. Here it was, in only eleven words, our mantra, the reason we long to live for, the motive behind our everyday existence. Simple, yet beautiful.

I am thankful for these three precious people in my life who not only long to live for more, but beckon with me a longing to live for more. When I am with them I feel inspired. When I leave them I leave encouraged. When I think of them I think of goodness.

And as I reflect on them and their purpose-filled lives, I wonder of my own. I wonder how people feel when with me, what they take away after time spent in my presence, what they think of when my name is spoken.

Over and over the past few weeks God has redirected me to this question: on my deathbed, what do I want to look back and see I had invested my life in? I immediately know the answer, the call God has set on my life. I want to have put my time and energy and money and attention to community, the people around me and the family they become.

For this pilgrimage to see the heart of God is best seen in the eyes of my brothers and sisters. The heart of God is best seen in my neighbor and his story and his soul and his likes and his dislikes and his passions and his dreams.

Of this I am sure: for the rest of my days here on earth my cry to heaven will be that God will create within me a heart that shows the evidence of him. That when people are with me they know he is good. That when people leave me they know he is true. That when people think of me they know he is just.



"This is the home of no man, except him who needs an asylum. I tell you, who are a traveler, that you are more at home here than I; whatever is here is yours. What need have I to know your name. Besides, before you told me, I knew it... Your name is My Brother." -Victor Hugo

No comments:

Post a Comment