My heart was a raisin.
Shriveled. Dry.
I saw a small slice of humans as people.
You know…
with feelings like pain and hope.
with reasons for what I deemed deviant.
with bone-deep beliefs carved in their grey matter
by the patterns of their little years.
Then I heard the stories;
looked at the faces.
I put my hand on my heart and
recognized the familiar.
Same.
Same.
Same.
In the space of those heartbeats,
Love pumped me fuller and
pushed out another wrinkle on my raisin heart.
…
God’s got the whole world in His hands, but do we love the whole world or are we sifting through looking for the palatable people?
Do we love the whole world or are we sifting through looking for the palatable people?
May our hearts become so full of God’s love we exclude no one from our kindness, our listening, our curiosity. The lives people have lived across the planet are vastly different from ours. What will we do with their stories? What will we do when they don’t fit neatly into our world view? I pray for the generosity of spirit Jesus had when He talked with humans. If there is breath in their lungs, God’s breath, the breath of life, their hearts are holy ground. May we know this and tread softly.
