Only Jesus

He leaned beyond the streams of light slipping through the blinds and into the security of the shadow cloaking the far corner of his chair. His story was a less than gentle collision of abuse, addiction, adultery, and divorce spoken as much through the tears tracing his gaping emotional wounds as his barely audible pain-drenched words. It was a two-hour appointment.

We had never met. As he completed the paperwork, he looked about as comfortable in a counseling office as a feral cat in an ice bath. Yet here he was. With a complete stranger, his history surging forth like a broken sewer line. As he shared one self-inflicted wound after another, I could hear my grandmother’s reflexive “Bless your heart,” while my own heart broke beneath the weight of so much pain, grief, and regret.

That was nearly five years ago.

Only Jesus.

My friend and I met for a cup of coffee today. But it was so much more than coffee. Our cups were full. Our conversation was one of grace. Joy. Peace. Hope. Love. Gratitude. This time, it was my tears expressing more than words.

Through countless questions, prayers, conversations, and challenges - sometimes kicking and screaming, other times staring at the tops of his boots in what seemed to be endless silence, and finally with the rush of passion of one finding a thought-to-be-lost loved one after a disaster, somehow, he found his way home. He found Jesus.  

Only Jesus.

He claims to have found Jesus through me. If only he knew. If only he knew the profound impact of his claim. If only he knew the winding desolation of my past. If only he knew the joy of having dwelt in darkness, being found by light, set ablaze by grace, returning with purpose, and guiding another home.   

Only Jesus.

As he walks me through the tragic and trying stories being unfurled in the small group of teenage boys whom he’s now co-leading, the corners of my wide smile collect my tears like a storm drain collects the Spring rain. He’ll soon know. He’ll know that deep sense of being both fruitful and fulfilled. He’ll know the joy of offering another hope, sharing one’s freedom.

Only Jesus.  

Perhaps… one of those young men will write the next chapter. For their stories, like his, like mine, are less about the prodigals than the One keeping the light on and the door open.

Only Jesus.

He is the one we proclaim, admonishing and teaching everyone with all wisdom, so that we may present everyone fully mature in Christ. To this end I strenuously contend with all the energy Christ so powerfully works in me.

Colossians 1:28-29

Grace & Peace,

John Crosby