He sits at my table.
I feed him.
Physical nourishment.
We feed him the Word.
He; the downcast.
Broken.
Struggling with mental illness.
Trying to find his way in this world.
He sits at my table.
I fight the thoughts that permeate my mind.
My son.
Buried deep beneath the earth.
Not at my table; while this one lives.
Why?
My son; a hard worker.
So young.
A lover of God.
Gone.
And here.
At my table the least of these.
Matthew 25:40
“The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you,
whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine,
you did for me.’
I feed him.
I pray in my heart for the demons that fill him to be gone.
To receive the medical help he needs.
This young man.
Each day a struggle.
The least of these my brethren.
I bow to the Holy.
These days belong to the Lord.
His ways.
Isaiah 55:9
As the heavens are higher than the earth,
so are my ways higher than your ways
and my thoughts than your thoughts.
so are my ways higher than your ways
and my thoughts than your thoughts.
I relinquish my heartache and pain.
I can not carry it.
The longing too great.
The pain crushing.
I step into the work for today.
Life on life.
The gospel.
Life changing.
Hope.
