8You have kept record of my days of wandering. You have stored my tears in your bottle and counted each of them.
Our congregation has a memorial garden. In that garden is of course a flowerbed, a pool with trickling water and a large stone with a statue of Jesus seated upon it. Then there is the wall that houses the cremated remains of those who have gone before us.
Often when our three year old grandson accompanies us to our house of worship, he will ask if we can go ‘sit with Jesus.’ I take him when he asks. I wish I had learned the art of ‘sitting’ with Jesus at an early age. I am good at sitting and reading a devotional and then praying, but to just sit and wait to hear… well, I’ve not perfected that art, and I do believe it is an art.
Each time I gather with persons from church, I am aware that each one of us sits next to a pool of tears. Each one of us carries in our own hearts personal wounds as well as the wounds of the nation. Each one of us groans, not only with our own painful longings, but also with the painful longings of that part of the world in which we live. Each time a tear falls into that pool, it ripples out and reverberates and somehow touches another person.
So here we are on November 1st, 2010 – All Saints Day. Again I am reflecting on the Saints who have gone before us. Can they see us? Do they offer prayers of support for us? Do they encourage us to ‘finish the race’? I am reminded of the Steve Green song, “Find Us Faithful.”
...because we're His,