Cry in the Dark

There is no doubt tonight that there is a Spirit within me that is not my own.

Someone nearby is hurting. Someone I know, though not well. Someone I never gave much thought to before his life turned upside down. Before everyone knew his name. And what he did.

Now I can't get him out of my mind.

Mundane and ordinary collides with tragic and desperate. My happy existence caring for my children and husband and enjoying each day of serving God suddenly seems tainted by the grief I can almost feel as I sit here at the computer and tap out the words of my heart.

What must he feel as he sits in his room and ponders the turn his life has taken? Is there anyone in his life that can help him see the truth? Will someone show him that Jesus loves him and can erase the deepest stain of sin from the life most destroyed? Or will all that hate him condemn him to hell with their bitter pursuit of justice, and all that love him try to ease his life-threatening condition with bandaids and kisses?

Will anyone show him Jesus?

I can tell Jesus is hurting for him. He's reaching for him. One little move on the sinner's part and he would make up the distance between them in a heartbeat. After all, Jesus already paid the punishment. The sin that this individual can't take back, no matter what he does, or for as long as he lives, was paid for long ago by a Man who loves him beyond reason.

How will he know?

Will he see you in my family, Jesus? Is that how you might use us? With loving words, truth spoken in the moment of opportunity, grace imparted by your willing vessels?

Or is our assignment to pray? We are. We will, for as long as we sense the heartache. For as long as we see them every day and have to read the hopelessness and confusion in their eyes. We will pray. With all the fervor of the Spirit within that can't take His eyes off a broken man.

I have a new perspective this evening. In the shadow of a victim, a victim's family that cries out for justice and retribution, there is sometimes a sinner who would turn back time to erase the crime he commited. There is usually a family that is also devastated. And their cries are often not heard. Not recognized by human justice.

Jesus hears. His Spirit hears. And straining to hear with His ears, I can hear a faint cry in the dark.