Lord, make me an instrument of Your peace…
I know I am eternally lucky that my imperfect earthly body was chosen by God to be a vessel for His miracles. It is not for me to ask why, but rather how, Lord, may I spread Your love throughout this world of sinners which You created in Your divine wisdom?
And yet I, too, am weak. When the Lord gives you the power to heal, people take notice. There is so much sickness and hurt in this world. Where at first I worked in obscurity, helping people find refuge from their pain, soon my miracles—His miracles—became known more widely. Posters of me, advertising my services, cropped up across the city. The people on television spoke of my gift like they understood it.
Forgive me, Lord, but it was all too much to bear. I left that city for another. Yes, there were others there who needed me, but I swore to you, God almighty, that I would spread Your love here, too, and share this gift with those who need healing.
~
I walked through the streets of my new city that warm June night. And, Lord, I was nearly tricked into thinking I had come upon a testament to Your almighty glory, a festival in celebration of Your love.
I was wrong. These men had desecrated the rainbow You sent Noah as a symbol of Your covenant with man. Oh Lord, these sinners made no effort to hide their carnal desires, their bodies on display for all to see. Men painted their faces like women, and kissed other men as they would their wives.
I spotted a young man dressed as many of the others, flesh on display, but who seemed reluctant to participate in the bacchanal. He scanned the crowd as though was trying to find someone, then looked down at his phone.
I could feel it, that familiar feeling, that stirring within me. He was in pain. He needed to be healed.
I watched as he finished the drink he was holding and tossed the cup on the ground. I followed behind him as he headed away from the crowds. As luck would have it, he stepped into an alley all on his own—normally I had to encourage them.
I came upon him facing the wall, relieving himself of that drink and probably several more.
“Hey man,” he said to me. “I’m not trying to cruise here, I just have to pee.”
I smiled as I continued approaching him. He protested as my hands found his throat and I began to heal him. Many people don’t even realize their own pain, but You help me see it.
“…And it is in dying that we are born into eternal life,” I whispered, as he finally went limp. “Amen.”
~
There on the front page of this morning’s paper was a crude, though accurate, drawing of me. Your miracles were once again being noticed, Lord, though it may mean I need to find another new city soon.
There are so many who need Your healing.