I was in the service with a picture in my hand and wanting privacy I sat in the very back row. Getting lost in worship I began to pray with my tears, thinking about my family. I missed them not just in the natural but the supernatural. Some of them say they believe and others openly profess there is nothing more than an energy released into the soil to live again as grass or a tree. I could see each of their faces in my mind. I ached for them to know the reality of truth and what it meant to have hope in Jesus Christ.
In time I put my picture back in my journal and tried to engage in my surroundings. Seeing a young man I knew come in, I felt ache for my own son. I tried to listen to what was being shared but it felt so distant from me, from my family, from my experiences. Reaching for my bible I held it tight. Throughout the gospels I remembered Jesus’ walk to meet people. Sometimes it was inside church but often it was outside the walls of church. He loved on them where they were at; in their homes, in their lives, in their desperation for help and healing.
Afterwards I asked the young man what he thought. He openly shared how bored he was. I understood his thinking. My son would not have found this environment engrossing either. I looked around at the people I loved, sensing they wanted everyone to join their celebration. My heart did not feel the celebration and I chose to continue my prayers in private. I asked the Lord for remembrance how to walk like Him; to love those who were inside, but especially to love those outside. Thinking about these young men, I knew I would feel like celebrating one day.