How did you do it Jesus? How did Your flesh and blood feet walk this planet that You created in perfection, and see it now in it’s sin-mangled groaning condition, and Your great heart, how did it not stop beating with the pain of it all?
How did You lay down to sleep at night and really rest? How did Perfection lay down and sleep in the midst of pain, and sin, and disease and bondage, and not just speak the word to wipe it all out and start over?
How did you feed the 5000, and rest with the fact that thousands, maybe millions, still went to bed that night hungry?
When one woman broke through the crowd to touch the hem of Your robe and was healed, how did You keep walking when You knew that in that same crowd was a hurting one who couldn’t get through the mass of people to touch You?
How did You keep breathing, day in, day out, in a world gone so wrong, so far, far wrong, from what You had intended?
Sometimes I can hardly bear it God. The image of God part of me knows that this place, this sin mangled place, is not where I really belong. My spirit gets so grieved and overwhelmed in this world where innocence is lost, stolen, gone.
How did You do it Jesus? How did You do it without making all the wrong things right, right then and there?
You fully trusted the Father. You withdrew from the crowd and got that day’s marching orders from the Supreme Commander of all Creation. He told You where to go, what to do, what to say…and that is exactly what You did. “I must go to Samaria.”, You said. Father must have told You that there was one broken woman there by a well, waiting for her Divine Appointment. You didn’t rush to every other city, to every other well, looking for broken ones. You did what Father said, and You rested, and You trusted, that He knew about the rest.
I must do the same. Today Father, show me what to do, what to say, where to go.