Warm Body Don’t Mean I’m Alive

I looked in the mirror. I saw a stranger there. Someone whom I knew. Someone I barely knew.  He was wearing my clothes, used my voice. Had a spot under his left eye.  Hey he even acted like me.

It was me, but it wasn’t me, not the me other people see. It was the ‘inside’ me.  It was the underneath me… It was like my eye’s just opened and I saw right down into my soul, that place beyond the scalpel of a doctor and the questions of a psychologist, that place that keeps memories locked up, that place that tells you your saying the wrong thing but can’t stop you, that place that I’ve only let God see. 
It was in my eyes. 
There I was after telling a bunch of young people that God’s image was on them and Christ was in them.  I could hardly see it in myself.

Maybe the mirror told lies.  Or maybe the barrenness of a busy life revealed itself in the reflection.

I want to sing at the top of my voice a song of redemption, a song I believe in.
I want to hug my wife then hug her again
I want to hear God speaking
I want to watch children play 
I want to find that schrew mouse again and say sorry for hurting his tail
I want to take a really good photo of a kestrel 
I want to see God’s image in everybody I see
I want to see fruit on the branch that’s in the vine
I really want to live as Jesus lived 
I want to live. Be alive. Live righty, fully, to God’s glory.

Standing on Grace (as always)

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