Here's the thing.

The more I look around, the more alone I feel. Know what I mean? The world is so isolated. It's so hard to not be, though. What with the mortgage and car payment, and the kid's karate, and that son of a gun boss who just doesn't understand that you haven't seen your wife/husband all week. . . . The irony is that it doesn't have to be. I can see a place where people care about people. I think of Dante's image. People in one room (level) of hell are trying to feed themselves with these really long spoons. They can dip the ladles in the pot, but they can't bring the ladle to their mouths because the handle is too long. OR, contrasting image - same scenario - but this time people are using the long handles to feed the people across the room, everyone gets fed.

I was talking with some friends about something similar the other night. I was commenting on this passage I just read in this book written by a doctor on the life and ministry of Jesus - his name is Luke. Anyway, in it, Jesus is saying how we need to love our enemies, and not just those we love. And at first, I just dismissed it. "Oh, yeah. I'm supposed to love my enemies, right. Can you pass the corn?"

The facinating thing about Jesus' life is that he walked the talk, dude. To the end, he walked the talk.

Imagine this: You're walking along, enjoying life, listening to your iPod with the 300,000 songs . . . then WHAM, you're being attacked and murdered. And not a single person comes to help. Not one. And the people doing the attacking are pretty much enjoying themselves; they're torturing you and placing dibs on who gets what of yours, generally disregarding your pain and agony. And you just go with it - not resisting, not fighting back. Instead you're loving them all the way through. You even ask God to forgive them!!

Dang. By that I mean, "Dang. . . . "

I couldn't do it. I'm too busy looking out for number one. I can't help you, I've got to make this phone call because I don't know if I'll have a drummer for my next gig. No, I won't give you a dollar, you might spend it on a brewski and I really need to buy some gas. No, I can't help you jump-start your car, I've got groceries to get home - the milk might spoil.

And I wonder why I feel so alone sometimes.

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