It was a Saturday morning and I was enjoying a delicious conversation. I looked at my watch and realized I needed to go meet up with a friend of mine, to take her to a women's event at church. She doesn't know Jesus yet but is hungry. I anticipated lame conversation gorging myself on empty carbs. But I had told her I would go. She was taking a risk and I needed to receive her heart well. So I hung up, grabbed a cab, and headed downtown. Our plan was to meet at the station at 8:45. The minutes rolled on. 9:00. 9:15. 9:25. I imagined walking into the brunch late, plates empty, women looking at us trying to scrounge a seat and some leftovers. I stood there, hundreds of people passing me by with every arriving train. My blood started to boil, growing ever more frustrated at how I could be at home enjoying conversation with someone I'm coming to care for quite deeply. But instead, I was standing in a fume-filled, sweaty, rumbling train station waiting for a friend who I knew would be late.
In that moment, I heard the voice of Jesus as clear as anything. So you left intimacy in order to come be disappointed by someone who needed love, huh? He didn't have to say any more. There was no condemnation in his voice, only that of a kind friend who is letting me into a bit more of his own story. What his humanity was like, what his time on earth must have so often felt like. It made me love him all the more.
Jesus really did sacrifice a lot for us, and we can be patient as we help others get to know Him.
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