I care about you.
It didn't make sense. When my house was still, when even the things that go bump in the night fell asleep, I awakened with this thought of "you".
I was concerned about your salvation; from 1:00-4:00 in the morning, I was thinking about–praying for–you.
Isn't that insane? I don't even know who "you" is, but I wanted to have a real conversation with you about faith, about the life and death and resurrection of Christ, and forgiveness and grace and redemption.
Forgiveness…and grace…and redemption.
I wanted to love you without condition and to show you that Christianity is nothing about rules and restrictions but about liberty and freedom. I wanted to give you margin to doubt and the room to wrestle with and be angry about the Very Real Life Circumstances that don't make sense and give you reason to question God; I was desperate for you to be able to see life from His perspective, to believe that God knows and loves you in the midst of your frustrations and suffering as well as in your victories and joys.
I wanted you to think about eternity, maybe for you even to be uncomfortable about all of this…because to me that's a sign that God is drawing you…wooing you…revealing Himself to you.
I don't have these conversations often enough. I'm a coward. I worry too much about making you uncomfortable, but the insidious truth is it would make me even more uncomfortable.
Which is also insane if I truly believe what I profess.
For almost three hours I thought about you. I prayed for you. I battled my own demons.
And I cared about you; it mattered to me whether or not you've found the Way. The truth. The life.
It's not by chance you're reading this…I'm convinced it's either because you need to know there's some Jesus Freak in Tennessee praying for you when she'd rather be sleeping, or because you need a kick in the tail to tell someone else you care about them and why.
I soooo never write posts like this, it feels strange to click "publish" right now. But actually, that tells me one of two things. Either a) sleep deprivation makes me some whiz bang evangelist, or b) it's a God thang.
I'm going with "b".
Postscript ~ This morning, following a sleep-filled night, I thought about this post written just before going to bed. I think it was in response to one of two things (maybe both?): the heart-wrenching story of Maddie and/or my upcoming trip to Kolkata, India. As our departure date races toward me, I find myself teetering between eagerness and anxiety….
Photo credit: dno1967 on Flickr