Susan Lafferty“We’ve found Him,” Philip says. Bearing witness. Talking about the Promised One.
And in the pushback from Nathanael, he doesn’t argue. But simply says, “Come and see.” [John 1:43-51]
Over the years, we sojourn in several different countries. Among various cultures and religious traditions. Doing life with new friends, we hear their stories. Share ours.
Over tea with a friend, I bear witness. Tell the most important Story in my life. About the Promised One who came. And changed me for eternity.
My mother tells the story. Her dad was going blind. So every morning she or her sister would stop by the home where he stayed. And read the Bible to him.
One particular day, Mom was in a hurry. On a tight schedule. She rushed in with no time to spare. Out of breath and talking fast. “So, Daddy, which chapter do you want me to read today?”
In his slow Southern drawl, Grandaddy said “Well, how about Psalm 119?”
Motionless. I sit. In sunlight. Stilled by loss and grief spilling across screens and down streets. Through personal stories of friends and strangers. Hard and sad.
Bitter wounds. Raw pain rooted deep. Laid bare.
Motionless. I wait. Stilled by the scale of it. What are we to do? Hands rest, palms up.
Eyes lifted to open sky between tall trees.
Wordless cry to the One I trust.
