Tonight I am grieving a man.
We will call him Paul.
God melted my heart of stone for him
Only after I had failed.
Failed to turn the other cheek
after he cussed me up and down.
Failed to give him my tunic
after he asked my cloak of me.
Failed to walk with him two miles
after he asked me to walk with him one.
Failed to love him
after he persecuted me with his words.
I am a missionary.
The Spirit of Jesus really does live in me.
Yet tonight I walked a man,
we will call him Paul,
into KFC and left him sitting there
in his wheelchair
because he was hard to love,
and I didn’t want to carry him any farther.
So I walked out
and left him.
As the Holy Spirit opens up my heart,
it is not Paul at all, nor his circumstance that I am grieving,
for the Lord is close to the poor in spirit,
but rather my own cold, satiated heart.
