I’d like to see more people—even one more person—walking in the unexplainable joy of knowing, really knowing, and getting to know, and listening to, and talking to the savior of this world, Jesus, or Yeshua, or whatever name the son of the god of the ancient Israelite’s has in the land where they live.
I’d like to see more people, including myself, who claim to know this savior, allowing him full control of our lives, and thus finding full freedom—freedom that changes everything.
I want to weep when the child is hurt, when the old man starves, when the lonely mother cries silently in her bedroom. Not only do I want my heart to break over what breaks his heart, but I want my hands—our hands—to be the hands of Jesus—hands that bring healing, release.
When I am old, I want my bones to creek with the weariness of long years of labour for this savior, this Jesus. I know I'll make mistakes… we are all human. But I could not ask to serve a better master.
I want to see more people—even one more person—walking in the footsteps of this man who lived two thousand years ago and died two thousand years ago, and came back to life two thousand years ago. I know it sounds like a wacked out fantasy story—you can’t beat death—death always wins. Always but this once. And this once changes everything. As Tolkien explains in his essay “On Fairy Stories” this narrative is the best fantasy story because it came true.
That’s what I want to see. That’s what I long to see.