Reunion

Standing atop the stage at MGM, adorned in glorified burlap with the soaring strings of John Williams ringing out the Star Wars cause behind me; I choose children to come and join the Force, become a Jedi.  Eager and almost frothing at the mouth they clamor and jump up and down; pleading for me to choose them, one of only 15 per show.  As the chosen gather their robes and ready themselves for training, a wheelchair silently rolls on stage unnoticed by the excited chatter of the others.  Wheels secured a father helps a determined child to his feet from the confines of his prison.  Face deformed and bloated from his illness, he struggles on crippled legs to move to a place among the others.  A hat, one size too big, does not cover the shaved area of his head from a recent surgery.  I begin the show saying my lines but my head and heart are tied to this young one.  Light sabers are handed out and the rest of the children twirl and maneuver it as a smile comes over their faces imagining them cutting down the dark side with slashing blows of justice.  But off to the side, with knarled hands another grips his as best he can, tottering on legs withered from lack of use.  The class moves on and I move in and out of the students spouting lines but with each look to this young boy my thoughts race home to my daughter of 4.  My daughter who stands with strong legs and moves with a healthy body. 

Nearing the end of the show now I turn and see this boy, willing himself to stand as all the others, and a thought comes that strikes me through and brings me to a stop in front of a crowd.  “One day you will run.  One day you will run into His arms”

Think of it.  Jesus looks on this boy with all the pride in the world.  He does not see his brokenness.  What He sees is beauty.  Absolute beauty.  A heart free as a bird in a prison of sickness.

He knows the moment, the precise moment when this little one will draw his last, labored breath and He will be waiting, like a lover longing for reunion, at the front door of heaven. 

And my little Jedi will run to Him.

 

Brian

Woman

Dinner has finished and musicians play softly from the corner of the room.  Candles, once tall and lean, now grow fat throwing a tired light into the crowded room.  Conversations grow quieter and men recline, plates pushed away, legs extended.  Wine and food lures the men towards sleep.  The door pushes open and the candle flames dance in the rush of evening air.  It is a woman.  Silence falls on the room.  A fork is put down on a plate.  What was a sleepy room of men now becomes awake.  Men look at her disheveled dress and uncombed hair with disgust.  She brushes a hair away from her eye, still purple from a healing welt.  A man begins to rise from his seat at the table to throw this irritant out into the night, cleansing the air.  But a firm hand on his shoulder sits him down again. 

No one moves.

The fireplace cracks and spits as the woman moves a step into the room.  “Jesus” she says quietly, not moving.  A mass of bearded faces look at her from across the semi-darkness.  One face leans back and looks at the woman.  “Here” He says softly.  The woman moves to Him quickly and from underneath her cloak she reveals a jar of liquid.  Jesus swings His legs to the other side of the bench so that He is now facing her.  She kneels and bows her head over His feet.  And for a moment she is silent but then the quiet weeping of a broken heart.  Looks are exchanged back and forth from the across the table, someone close to Jesus puts a hand on His arm to get His attention, nodding when Jesus looks at him as if to say:  “I’ll take her outside, would you like that?”  Jesus nods ‘no’ and looks back at the woman who has now opened the jar.  Instantly the room is filled with a rich fragrance, overwhelming the lingering smell of curry and wine.  The men from the other side of the table push back their benches, a plate of uneaten lamb clatters to the floor as they stare at this scene unfolding before them.  The woman takes the perfume and pours it over Jesus’ feet, so much so that the excess runs across the tiles and pools in the corner.  The room is intoxicatingly fragrant, like a burial chamber with a freshly wrapped body.  From the back now, whispers of unbelief.  A grumble is heard from the other side of the room. Through it all Jesus’ eyes have not left this woman, who sobs quietly saying over and over:  “thank you….thank you”; her hair enveloping His feet as she cries.  Slowly she begins to dry His feet with her hair. 

The door slams as some have left in disgust.  The woman, sits back wiping her eyes and Jesus gently puts a finger under her chin and lifts tenderly till her eyes meet His.  He brushes aside hair matted to her cheek and says:  “Your faith has saved you; go in peace.”

Brian