Yesterday I met a man who was different. I met him at the heart of L.A. He told me about his great love for poetry. He said it was such passion and honesty. His words about loving poetry sounded like poetry. The words rolled off his tongue as he repeated french words to set the tone.
He told me a secret,
"Sometimes, I love poetry more than I love myself."
"Does poetry love you back?"
"I hope so" he said with a sigh like a boy sighing over his lost love.
Hearing that sigh made me want to share with him about my love for Jesus. So I asked him if he wanted to know what I loved more than myself. He asked me if it was photography as he pointed at the camera hanging around my neck. I said no. I told him with excitement trying not to sound like a little girl at Sunday school..."JESUS"!
He nodded and said "I am scared of that Jesus...He seems so mean sometimes." Then he said a poem about how he wants to know Jesus but is scared because Jesus might be angry at him.
I told him about Jesus' righteous anger and about his mercy and grace. Our conversation ended as we both stood there nodding at the beautiful conversation we had right there in the middle of the night. Two strangers who suddenly felt so familiar. He shook my hand and told me his name, then walked away as if the conversation was already forgotten.
As I rest in my bed after Sunday service I try to remember his name...but I can't. I feel guilty but my forgetfulness shows me how much I need Jesus to help me remember to love people. My humanity is my greatest downfall and also my greatest reason for needing something bigger than myself.
So there it is...I love Jesus more than I love myself. Now I need Him to help me love others more than myself.
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