Why on Sunday do I see pew after pew filled with my brothers from around the world but when it comes to walking the streets of darkness, so many of my brothers disappear to an unknown place? Where, my brother, are you? I ask you to come out of your hiding place and join me on the streets lined with those wandering aimlessly about night after night. Let us bring grace to those who know not its true meaning and let us bring love to those whose hearts cry out for a simple drop of something they search for so futilely.
Join me, my brother, in walking and searching amongst the messiness of this world. Dirtiness will be a constant companion, darkness will surround us, and jeers and insults may come our way, yet He will guide our path. He will lead us to the one who is looking and to the one who is searching and we will stop. At that moment, we will look down and we will extend our hand of grace to him who only knows the pain of a pointed finger. Together, we will lift him up, and allow His words of love to bring life to his bones. His face will radiate with the knowledge of knowing that he was never forgotten but that a few men, perhaps some would call us a band of brothers, were sent out to search for him. We return reporting good news as we bring home the one who was found. Yet, we do not bask for long knowing that so many more lie in fields of pain and hurt.
My brother, those fields of pain and hurt do not have to exist. Join me, walk with me, and together let us go find another brother who we once used to be like.
End of article.