An email came in today from a friend who may have to have her son committed. That was an hour after I ran into a friend whose family is facing eviction.
It was two days after someone else’s son died, four days after a woman from my mom’s group rushed her husband to the ER in dire condition.
There are times when my prayer list spins out of control, when people in need multiply like the brooms in Fantasia. Seeing so many people in crisis gets overwhelming. My heart gapes. My toes begin to dip into the slough of despond.
And then I think, Stop. Whatever it is that God wants of me, he’s not asking me to despair.
I take a deep breath. I consciously set aside my budding sense of hopelessness. Before I utter another word, before I offer to make someone a meal, before I do anything, I need to redirect my heart:
Lord, guide my thoughts: Keep them focused on your will.
Lord, guide my lips: Let my words be the ones you want me to speak.
Lord, guide my hands: Show me how you would have me serve.
God puts troubled people in our paths because he’s trusting us to pray and care for them as he would. That’s an honor, not a burden.
