(video version of this post: morning coffee with Jesus)
Jesus, I want you sitting here.
I don’t want to have to be patient. I don’t want you to be invisible. I want that relationship fixed. I want that heart healed. I want that brain to start working again, just like it was.
I want to know what to say.
I want to be able to say, “Jesus loves you and is praying for you and cares more about that person than you ever will.” I say it, Jesus, because I know it’s true, but, with all due respect, it sounds cliche.
I’d rather have five smooth stones in my hand, to fling at the towering Goliath of despair and watch it come crashing down. And still have four in my hand.
I’d rather … you know what I’d rather have, Jesus? I’d rather have you. Sitting on the deck. By the lake. With a cup of coffee in your hand in the early morning. The two of us looking at the calmness of the lake and you saying,
“See how smooth that is? I made that. And there was the time that there was a another lake, and a boat. And guys exactly like you who wanted to know that I was awake, that I was paying attention. They yelled at me above the noise of the storm. They thought I didn’t care. They thought I was ignoring them. They thought, well, they thought the storm was going to be too much for me. But it wasn’t. The storm was easy. It always is. Them trusting me was hard. It always is.”
That’s what I want. Instead of the ache that I feel right now. I want that coffee and that calm and you.
And what I know is that you do too.
I mean coffee and calm and me.