Abba, Tear Catcher and Boo-Boo-Made-Better- can we talk? 

Your friend is sick.  An anomaly was found in the glare of an ex-ray image.  That signals only one thing, you are about to move through time, not into it, but through it, as eternity cannot cohabitate with minutes and hours.  In that movement, please carry their fear closest to your soul. You taught us about that when you hung helplessly as a man upon the iron invention called nails, and in that singular moment, created the biggest vat of empathy; enough for any fear to swim in, for everyone who suffers. 

On this good night would you catch the falling stars from their eyes, hold their ache.  Lift their chin, right now Abba, right when it’s getting tough to breath, because life has been reduced to a kind of pressure that never leaves, so it seems.  Let them feel every human emotion you have invented, save one—lonely. Tell them when they talk to you, no shout it, so that through time somehow in the pain, and pending possibilities, they know this road has an ending, and it’s not an abyss, but a precipice. On it they can look out and see the unshakable promises of proximity, pardon and permeable faith. Right now Abba, faith must absorb the questions, anger, disturbing prognostications, and oh did I mention sadness? 

 I know if I ask why, I’m in for it.  But why, Abba?  Their love for your intimacy has fed the multitudes, and now that bread feels stale, almost too old to taste, to remember how sweet or salty it was, the taste of awe.  Oh, do you remember, how you broke the back of their turmoil through prayer, and now they offered that bread so compassionately, willingly, generously to others?  I know you do.  Did you see their tears and empathic movement inward for the wounded and oppressed, downtrodden, and afraid?  Why then, Lord?  I tread lightly, not to question, but to try and see through this hazy filament of brokenness, behind the veil where your eyes never leave them. Not for me, but them, please Lord let not a moment be lost in this treachery of their body, so the seed of the gospel can be reborn in the dead places not yet revealed. 

Oh Lord, I almost forgot.  For those tender-hearted beautiful people at their side, lift arms, so heavy with fear, into the air in this moment, so that they can know by faith, that you are still enthroned, still belong, oh so much more in this hour. Convince them, even against all emotion, that you belong in the seasons when storms threaten.  You taught that in the Book.  Tell them when they are ready, you have a good plan for their heart in all of this.

One last thing, Abba, Tear Catcher, Boo-Boo made better! When this is over, and hope awakens to the eyes of grace, would you bring a special gift into all hearts, a rooted belief, not in the form of faith, or an adherence to a creed, but a living determined hope that you have enough grace for them to last a thousand lifetimes, and then some.  Let nothing be lost in this journey under the mountain. 

Amen, and Amen.