It was as if his eyes could see into the very depths of them. The way he responded to their taunting. He was always so . . . composed. It was a spectacular thing to witness.
Most people feared them, all pomp and circumstance. But not him. He withstood them, and with an air that was as difficult to describe. The best word is one that some have used when he teaches, “as one with authority”
He who lives among the commoner faces the Pious with a rare . . . sturdiness.
Lord, I want to be like him!!!
Before he showed up, the categorical lines were iron-clad.
If you are not one of them, then you are less than them. If you were less than common, you were thought to be polluted and avoided by them – relegated to the far corners.
But not so with him. His eyes see differently. His heart is . . . good. He is jus so . . . steadfast.
Though we’re close friends, there’s a certain amount of uncertainty in being so near. How can one know a man who is so unlike other men?
How can a man be so kind and tenderhearted toward the lame, the blind, the demon-posessed and then so stern in the face of men-of-standing? It’s as if he doesn’t see the high hats and the stately robes. And the admirable gazes from the common folk.
Though his companionship is loyal, there is a sense of awareness that he sees right into the depths of ME. And, well . . . there are times when that just makes me want to FLEE! It’s like my secret thoughts are safe with him. But man! It makes me squirm sometimes. I try so hard to hide those thoughts because I know they are wrong, but it’s impossible when he is near. And he stays!
When I even suspect someone is having thoughts toward me like I’ve had toward others, I put up guardrails to keep them at bay. I have to protect myself from acting out on my emotions – then everyone would know me as the fraud I feel I am.
If only I could be like him.
Judas, he’s always sneaking money. I know he sees it too. But just yesterday, he washed his feet! If he can see into souls, wouldn’t he be able to see the hypocrisy? Strange how he only seems to confront the combative pompous ones, and with that confidence that just bewilders me!
I want to see like him.
There is also something magnetic about him. So marvelous that I know I could never leave him – as often as I’ve felt like fleeing. I could never find anything so . . . how do I describe it? . . . satisfying. It’s like I’d give up everything if he asked me to.
And it’s not because of the amazing things I’ve seen him do. Okay, that is part of it, because, what a show!!! The way he kept breaking that loaf and it was still whole! It not only astonished us as we were able to do the same thing with the loaf he handed us, but so many bellies were filled. How could he have taken so much time with that large crowd when he as so tired?
I want to have stamina like him.
But it’s more than all the things I’ve seen him do. It’s in our every day life. When we just walk together. He is interested in me . . . it’s strange. His attention is more genuine, more pleasant than anything I’ve ever experienced. Not even my own mother’s love has made me feel so cherished.
Will I ever live and love like Jesus?
Only if I let Him live through me.