True.Stories.I.Made.Up.

His.Kingdom.Will.Be.Bigger

I met a man in this coffee shop the other day.

Frazzled silver kissed hair. Eyes that shone blue in his youth but now tell the story of a decade of loneliness.

His hands were callused with years of maintenance work. Maintenance that paid the bills. Maintenance that helped his father. Maintenance that made penning his poetry that much sweeter.

This man’s name is Michael and I met him at a coffee shop the other day.

“Do you mind if I sit here with you sir?” His British accent tells the story of his youth spent roaming the streets of London. Twenty years spent exploring the academies and museums. Married to the system of education but torn by his adulterous love for the arts.

“No I don’t mind at all sir, please sit.” I replied.

This man I met at a coffee shop the other day shared with me a few of his poems.

“What are you working on there sir?” I asked.

“I write.”

“What are you writing?”

“I write stories. I write poems. Whatever comes to mind really. I’ve always enjoyed it.”

“Do you mind sharing one with me?”

“Certainly! This ones called Einstein’s hair.” He handed me a crumbled up piece of paper he had been scribbling on for the past twenty minuets.

I met a man at the coffee shop the other day that taught me some things about life.

Eagerly waiting to see what I would say as he shared with me apart of who he was. Something he had yet to share with anyone else. Something that was still in the works and rather vulnerable.

He stepped into this coffee shop to do what he loved doing and was willing to share the deepest part of who he was with a total stranger like me. We spent the following hour discussing life and all of the crazy quarks that come along with it. And as quickly as he came into that coffee shop he left, but not before giving me the gift of a conversation.

Moments later, before I could even process what just took place, I received a phone call from someone who has it all. Someone who isn’t thousands of miles away from home. Someone who doesn’t work a job they hate to feed a hobby they love. Someone who has more community and relationships than they know what to do with. And they don’t even appreciate or respect a single one of them.

My heart breaks.

I hate living in a world where my new friend Michael can live in loneliness and bear his heart to a complete stranger while my other friend has everything Michael longs for but doesn’t give any of it the time of day.

I hate living in a world where my brothers and sisters over seas die every single day to the plague of starvation. When all they need to survive is the money my neighbors spend on gym memberships to avoid death by obesity.

I hate living in a world where my brothers and sisters moan and groan at a weekly Bible study. When others put their lives on the line to smuggle the same book across boarders to those who are moaning and groaning with the rest of creation as we wait expectantly.

I want to spend my life with those who value what life is all about.

I want to give my time to the ones who are hungry for a conversation.

I want to offer my resources to the people who have the capacity to cherish them.

I want to give my life to the rejected, the lonely, the hungry, the homeless, the poor, the orphaned, the widowed, the transient, the lost, the confused, the abused, and the hurting.

I dream of spending holidays with those who have nowhere to go.

I dream of throwing surprise birthday parties for the ones who don’t know what blowing out a candle even feels like.

I dream about sharing meals, about impacting the world, and up rooting the evils that live under injustice.

I dream

And to those who said that I couldn’t

I look at your lives and know that I wouldn’t

Want to follow in your foot steps down the path you forgot trail blaze.

To those who rolled their eyes

I look at your lives

And wonder if you’ve ever begun to live.

To the pessimist and the realist.

To the doubtful and the drab.