journal entry December 15, 2009

Jesus I know I don't have time but I need You. Wow that's an interesting sentence really... cause who says what time needs to go where? Why do we push ourselves the way and direction we do? Since when do we have the insight and wisdom to know where to pour ourselves out and when to stop the cycle of living, existing and do something else? I know how I feel and I know I need You... my best friend. I am aching for time with You... I am feeling that all too familiar need for a friend.
So what can we do together? We can fly. Really? Those words instantly bring tears to my eyes and I gasp with amazement of Your love. We haven't done that forever. The two times I remember the most was You prophesying into my life and the time over our church. Where would we fly?

All I see are treetops but I know what is underneath them... there is a path that is only as wide as a footstep... yet it is mossy and thick like a sponge. There is a man walking on the path; no... he is running. His breaths are ragged as he pushes himself further and faster, sweat dripping, lungs burning. He breaks out from under the cover of the trees into an opening where underfoot the spongy moss has turned to rock. The view reveals where he has been running to. The panorama of mountain ranges are breathtaking. They are both close and distant to the point where they are swallowed up in the colors of the earth and sky. The shock of the change causes him to sit down hard on a nearby boulder and begin to weep. We've been overhead but now we come down and I watch as You draw near and kneel before him. You gently holding his face so Your eyes can meet. At that moment his sobs of relief and the letting go of the journey's wear take their toll and he collapses in Your arms. Closing his eyes and letting any need for self control slip away ... he sinks into a deep sleep. Oh my Jesus, who is this man? As You hold him so gently I come near to kneel and wash his feet. They are so dirty and scratched from his journey. The callouses hard but the trickles of blood from a passing thorn bush or rock tell of the desperation and determination to go as far as he could. The water is warm, the cloth soft as I again and again dip it in, rinse and wash. There is a flask of oil beside the basin and I then pour a portion of it on his feet ... the scent wafts up as I massage it in. I glance up and see that Your eyes have not left his face the whole time and I notice now that You have been speaking ever so softly to him all the while. My gaze drops to the ground in the reverence of this moment... Holy Holy Holy... Jesus , my God , my Saviour... You alone are God forever and ever. I kneel at Your feet as my heart crys out for this man and for love that literally washes over me... Holy Holy Holy...