Sitting next to me, book in hand, her troubled voice uttered words that felt as if she had glimpsed my very core, “ Mama, I’m looking for Jesus. I can’t find Jesus. Where’s Jesus?”
Cecily was looking for a story about Jesus but her words described how I so often feel. In the fleeing hours between when my head leaves the pillow until it drops again in sleep, I long to see Jesus in all the moments that encompass my day. I long for what I have known. It’s not that in the knowing, those days were filled with ease, delight and happiness. It was that in my spirit, the Spirit was present and call me crazy, but I knew.
Once you’ve known, nothing else is satisfying.
When Cecily spoke those words, I was sitting, Word in hand, breathing words that in the few moments that I sat, I would find grounding; that I would find Jesus. That in the days moments ahead, I would know the Spirit as it worked through my hand, spoke from my lips, and changed the direction of my heart.
Cecily spoke again, “ There’s lots of Jesus! I found Jesus. I wuv Jesus.”
There’s a lot of Jesus, present in the Spirit given. I need those daily moments of stopping to
allow myself to be found by the one whom I seek to become kindred to. The one who has always been
there. May it become that I am always easy to find. May we be kindred.