THE QUIET PLACE

by Jim Emmert

I used to come here almost every day.  In fact, coming seemed essential then.
I was young and so full of life.  He came here, too.  Each day we were so glad
to see each other.  I couldn't wait to tell Him everything about my day.  He
would listen patiently, then tell me about Himself and His Father.  I loved
Him like a brother.  But somehow He loved me even more. Suddenly I stopped
coming to the quiet place and went away.  I didn't tell Him goodbye.  I knew
He would be disappointed in me, and I couldn't stand to see that in His  face.
I ran fast and hard, rushing into the night until I reached a faraway place, a
strange place.  No one there cared about me; they were all running, too.
After a few months, He sent a friend to find me.  His message simply said He
missed me.  If I would return, we could go on as if nothing had happened.  I
didn't send a reply.  I  just packed my bags and moved on.  I couldn't stand
to think about Him still waiting for me.

Months turned into years, and years into tens of years, and I  wandered
on. But I lost my illusions.  All I had left were false promises.  Surely, I
thought as I travelled, it would  not matter if I stopped by to visit the old
place where we used to  meet.

Silently, I approached the quiet place.  With shallow breath, I  peered
around the entrance.  Suddenly I jerked back, my heart pounding in my ears.  I
saw a shadow and heard the rustling of a garment.  Surely not--it couldn't be!
Not  after 23 years.

Then I knew.  He was still waiting for me.  His words of  greeting were
quiet. In His face there was no blame.  Smiling, He invited me to sit down.
Filling a basin with cool water, He knelt before me.  I tried to speak, to
hide my face--to  escape somehow.   How  could He?  Why should He--after all
this time?  I had forsaken our  friendship.   Willingly - no, eagerly - I spat
upon His will and ran to an idolatrous land.   Squandering my good  years, I
returned a withered shell of what I should have been.  And  now--this.    I
hadn't known why I journeyed back, but He did.   With tears to  heal a torn
and weary  soul, I repented of the past, confessed my guilt, and asked to come
another day to visit  with Him.  He smiled and wiped my tears.  As He removed
my sandals and  washed my feet, He  told me that I need not ask.  He washed
away my troubled past, not to remember even a  day.  Now we sit and visit as
in days gone by, because that's God's plan.  And that's God's  way.  

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