3 weeks

That's how long it's been since I opened my Bible.

My friend and I we sat across the table talking while the snow fell and the wind blew.  We sat until the place closed.  We shared our hearts, the joys and the pain.  We both looked tired and we both felt worn.  In the end we realized we shared the same problem.  We tend to fool ourselves into thinking we can steal time.

Never in the moment.
Never in the here and now.
Always thinking ahead, convincing ourselves it's a good thing.
All the while becoming more tired, more worn, and more lost.

Now it's the first day of my work week, I should be teaching.  Instead I sit in my pajamas on the couch while it snows...Again...You boys play.  I'm more tired and more worn today then I was yesterday, and I was more tired yesterday then I was the day before.  Always trying to catch up.  However, today as it snows, and you play, I choose to sit, desperate to remember the Maker.

My fingers, feeling those pages that seem so foreign, fumble through looking for a start.  I want to be amazed, to remember why Jesus is such a big deal.  I want to slow and see, to know and be known.

I begin on page 817 where four friends pull a roof apart slowly letting a paralytic down in front of Jesus so he can be healed.  Jesus heals.  Flipping the page Jesus heals again, and then again.

I can't help but notice that as Jesus heals, people are amazed, and more go to him and more are amazed, and I sit amazed too.  But how do I find Him and who do I tell and how am I healed?...Because obviously I am broken.

I notice too that He never plans to heal people or find the broken, but they find Him and He always has time.  He says yes to the interruptions.  He says yes to the moment, the here and now.

I hear your feet pounding the stairs as you fly up, stopping next to me so you can look over my shoulder.  "Oh your reading your Bible," you say to me, and away you go taking your younger brother.

I wonder if maybe this morning in my pajamas, here on this old couch because I said yes to the moment, allowing the interruption that I am finding Jesus. Maybe He is healing me, and maybe I am telling you about Him.

This dear boys, is where I'm at.  God is big, and He is good, and I am amazed.