I found myself wandering down a dimly lit street. Other
footprints covered my path, for many had been in search of what I longed to
find. I did not know for sure where this road would lead, or whom I might meet
along the way. I passed by houses, churches, schools, train stations and
airports.
Further along I traveled until I came upon a hospital room.
The room was dark except for the flicker of the television that was mounted in
one corner. In the bed was a man who was left alone with his labored breaths.
As he counted his last days, he thought back over his life and wondered why no
one was there. He was alone, but by his bed, Jesus was there.
I journeyed further down the road and found myself standing
before the window of a small apartment. The walls were plain and the space was
scarcely filled. On an old, stained couch sat a mother cradling her young son.
His trusting eyes couldn’t conceive what her sad eyes sought to conceal.
Through birth she had passed to him a virus that would claim both their lives.
Who infected her, she did not know. Most that passed her door looked away in
scorn, but in her cold home, Jesus was there.
I continued my walk and stumbled upon a courtroom. I stepped
in just in time to hear the gavel strike and attorneys close their brief cases.
On opposite sides of the aisle stood a man and woman. Only a short while ago,
they vowed to remain together until death did them part, but now they were
preparing to leave the court in separate directions. They are both angry and
hurt, and they refuse to look at the other. He blames her, she blames him and
they both blame themselves. Watching them pass through the door, and wanting to
hold them both, Jesus was there.
The road before me stretched on and in the distance the
sound of laughter filled my ears. I followed the sound and was delighted to
discover that it came from children playing in a schoolyard. They laughed and
ran, swung and climbed. Each one had a friend, except for one. Sitting alone
under the slide was a boy who couldn’t seem to make any friends. He loved to
play, but he couldn’t understand the other children’s games. He needed special
attention, but his parents could not afford a special teacher for him. So, he
was in school with the other children. Each day he sat alone, but not alone.
Deep in his heart, Jesus was there.
I stayed on my path until it led me to a little girl. Her
skin was fair and her hair dark. Her forehead bore a mark on its center that
identified her race and nationality. She seemed to be about eight years old, but
her face carried burdens of one much older. She had been born to parents that
could not afford to care for her, so they betrothed her to a man from a
neighboring village. He took her and married her in the night. Now, she sits
alone facing a life she does not understand. She was far from her mother and
father, but Jesus was there.
I pressed on and found myself having come seemingly full
circle, as I stood once again in a hospital. This time I stood in a room
without a television. Lying alone on a bed was a young woman who was riddled
with regret for the decision she had just made. When she awoke that morning,
there was a life inside her. Now, that life has been taken. She cried out for
someone to take the pain away, but her cries went unanswered. Except for the
receptionist who collected her payment, there was no one around, but Jesus was
there.
As I continued to travel, my mind replayed all that I had
seen. I passed by many more people, and I witnessed many more things. Time
would fail me to share them all, but in each place, Jesus was there. I know
there is a place for me, a place where I can do what I have been destined to
do. If I keep pressing on, I will find that place . . . or wait! Perhaps, I
have already found it . . . Jesus was there!
