I was on the streets the other today and ran into two old friends. One gentlemen, “Nick,” lives out of his car, and he likes to lean out the window for good conversation. This day, he leaned out, to open his heart, sharing his struggles of the past few months, how good he knows God is and how thankful he is to the Lord, and how he’s aware in his pain of the past few months, he’s numbing through alcohol.
Another friend, whom we’ll call Will, was leaning against Nick’s car, listening to our mutual friend talk. When it was time to go, I gave Nick a hug and told him I loved him, and without missing a beat, Will quipped, “Guess you don’t love me now?”
I was taken aback. I paused, taking in his words. Then, I said to him, “Of course I love you. … Don’t you know? There is enough love for Nick and for you, Will.”
He looked away, like a person rejected. I continued, “If only you had waited another minute, I was coming next to you… to tell you goodbye and that I love you.”
I finished with Nick and turned to focus on Will. I looked him in the eye before I left, hoping he might hear the words, “I love you and I have missed you. It is so good to see you.”
He looked away from me. The truth of my words were hard to absorb in that moment.
Where is the love for me?
As I reflected on this interaction, I couldn’t help but think of myself and God. How often, particularly in this last year through varying degrees of lockdown, I am standing next to a (virtual) neighbor or a friend, and I see God blessing them with his love. And I wonder, “Where is the love for me?” I can feel overlooked or forgotten. I jump in really fast to say, “Do you not love me any more?”
I heard my Father saying to my heart on this day, “My precious child, I’m right here. My love is enough for your friend and for you. When you look next door and see me blessing someone else, don’t fear. I’m coming for you.”