Jesus is Calling

Jesus is calling.jpg

I see your eyes.
Beautiful, hopeful, hurting.

You don’t know who you should be. What you are here to do.
How to make it count.

Is this it?

Life promised you so much. Surely this isn’t it?

More things, more people, more memories. Less purpose.
Less happiness.
Less hope.

Time has brought you no closer to the horizon where it all makes sense.

You carry a lifetime of hurt.
A lifetime of being told it’s all random, empty, accidental meaninglessness.

Your heart rests in sadness. Lonely numbness.

Master of a destiny that has betrayed you. A destiny that ends nowhere with nothing.

You do anything to avoid stillness, reflection. Silence is the enemy.
The answers that hide there are too terrifying to confront.

More, is still your solution.
More things, more people, more memories.

But it isn’t enough. Realisation returns as a familiar wince. Inescapable.

It’s never enough.

Something within you longs to be connected to something greater. Something that should be there. Something achingly absent. It’s loudest in the quiet.

But you slam shut the doors. Because you know they open onto a corridor that ends where something is shining.

A light that you must ignore.

You can’t open those doors. It’s too much. It risks everything. You can’t open them.

So you lock them up and retreat back to what is safe, sensible, rational, normal.

This is all there is.

You’re angry you ever thought there could be anything more.

This is all there is. It’s not possible that there is anything more.

He is calling.

A whisper finds you through the fog of your sleepwalk.

Somehow, something resonates. Against everything. Something resonates.

He is calling.

That glimmer of light again in the darkness. The possibility that there could be someone who loves you more than anyone. The potential for escape from nothingness.

Could you dare to allow a flutter of hope?

He is calling.


Perhaps there is something.
Perhaps this isn’t all there is.
Perhaps you aren’t the product of chance.

Perhaps you were made. Intentionally, lovingly, purposefully. He is calling.

Maybe there is meaning, identity and absolute truth that has always been there, waiting. Maybe you have been designed, created and called for a purpose bigger than yourself. Maybe you are loved more than you can know.

He is calling.

The doors are straining.
The light behind them cannot be contained.

He is calling.

He was the source of everything at the end of that corridor. Now He’s running down it, to you. His feet pounding on the boards.

Light spills out underneath the doors that separate you, it rushes through the gaps and cracks and cascades towards you. You can’t hold them closed any longer.

Jesus is calling.

Shattered nails and splintered wood are left in His wake as He bursts through and throws open His arms.

Let go of everything and fall.

Fall into His arms. Cling to Him, let His love crash over you and breathe. Freely, fully, finally, breathe.

Gasp into life with the breath from His lungs and wake up.

Wake up into life.

My purpose is to give them a rich and satisfying life.
— John 10:10

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