“24 If I had not done among them the works no one else did, they would not be guilty of sin. As it is, they have seen, and yet they have hated both me and my Father. 25 But this is to fulfill what is written in their Law: ‘They hated me without reason.’”
“4 I sought the Lord, and he answered me and delivered me from all my fears.
5 Those who look to him are radiant, and their faces shall never be ashamed.
6 This poor man cried, and the Lord heard him and saved him out of all his troubles.”
I found Jason yesterday – probably more like he let me find him (Jason – read part one in the blog titled “Bridges of Western Ave.”). Met him on the corner of Western and North. Earlier he told a friend of his that he didn’t want to talk to me, yet he let me find him.
When we were talking, he said he didn’t want to talk to me because I’m just another person he has disappointed. How can I be disappointed? Addictions aren’t for everyone (very fortunately). How could I be disappointed I asked? I was worried, crying for him, wanting him to heal – disappointed isn’t one of the reactions, nor is hate for being used by him, because I know it’s insanity.
It’s like the insanity of being disappointed in (or hating on) God. Makes no sense really. The behavior is insane. Insanity reigns. The world didn’t listen to Him. Neither did Jason. Neither do I.
At Burger King I let him know that it’s about love, not hate and disappointment; that He loves us and we all fail every day, yet He continues to love us. We talked awhile. Took him over to a place that could help expedite him though the system. Gave him money that was going to be for the fishing licence this weekend for his diabetes meds, bus fare, and probably a fix. Jason knows though, he had already realized he doesn’t have another one (another round of going back out there) in him and had started the process back. This is his last time one way or the other I’m thinking.
We spoke of accountability and hands that lift up but don’t hand out, about burned bridges and forgiveness, about brokenness and love. Pray for Jason.
The picture today is not what it seems at first glance. It’s a reflection off smooth water. The guy on the street isn’t what he seems either. He’s Jason. He’s broken, like his life, like his dreams. He’s like us. Pray for Jason and everyone like him.
In the still of the morning up here at the lake I’ve been coming to since I was a few months old, the loons and crows are both talking somewhere out there. One’s a hauntingly beautiful sound, the other is just ugly noise. It’s like the choice we have about how we live and what we worship.
The sound of the loon, a reflection captured, a life in balance, a choice to make.
Pray for Jason and everything he is to you/me/us.