It's a quiet Sunday afternoon with the kids visiting their parents. I have time to think. And the thought that kept running over and over in my mind is that we Christians are waiting for the return of Jesus. I honestly don't know if He'll return in the way that we expect. As I see it, He has returned, and keeps returning, except we miss Him. I see Him every day in the poor children who live with me; I see Him in the eyes of their destitute parents as they struggle to get together another meal. I see Him every day in the disabled man I call "Net" (because it means perfect) who comes here to beg a meal. I see Him in the girl who I'm caring for who has returned to Bondeau after being a child slave most of her life.
We keep waiting for the return. And yet, He is here. We just don't see Him. Or is that we refuse to see Him?
He is alive in the loving hands and feet and heart that you bring to your ministry! Bless you for your unfailing love and compassion to the poor!
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