Driving home after Christmas in Oklahoma this year took a VERY LONG TIME. We had a few hiccups along the way, but the trip was mostly uneventful. On the second night, it was after dark and we were still an hour away from Matahuala, our destination for the night, when I remember the wear and stress getting to me. We’ve never had anything too bad happen on the highways in Mexico but we’ve been warned about driving on the highways after dark. It’s just not safe. So you can imagine how I felt once the lights of Matahuala came into view. I knew we were almost there… almost to our place of rest for the night. There was a peace that came over me as I took in the lights of a city on a hill. We were almost there; almost to safety.
Matthew 5:14 – “You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden.”
That city on a hill is what I want to be. To those around us, it’s what we offer… peace, rest, safety. To the unwed mother, to the struggling addict or the broken and bruised reed, I want to offer something other than judgment. Doesn’t the Bible say something about “a smoldering wick he will not snuff out.”? To be honest, that’s not always me. But it’s where I’m headed.
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2 comments:
I like this post. When I read it I was reminded of what it feels like when you get your hope back. Driving a long, realizing you really should have filled up with gas in the last town, starting to worry if you're going to make it ... you see those city lights ... you realize you're going to make it and be okay. What a good feeling.
Your story would have a been a little scarier situation to me ... but the feeling is the same ... relief, hope, safety.
I want to be that city on a hill that people look at and feel good things about. Like Jesus ... people flocked to Him because He made them feel relieved, hopeful, and safe. He gave their heart rest. I want to do that for others ... like it's been done for me.
Good thoughts for me to think about ... challenging. Glad you guys had a safe trip.
You said that you want to offer something other than judgment. You did to me that late night at the truck stop ... and every day and night since then. This "bruised reed" you did not break ... this "smoldering wick" you did not snuff out. I thank you ... thank God for you. Rex
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