Where is Jesus?  

Do you ever feel like there is something not quite right, but you can’t put your finger on what it is? There is something out of place, or not in place, there is a difference between the two.

Years ago, when Jene’ moved back to Fayetteville from Washington D.C. she worked for the Springdale Public School system teaching wherever they need her and also worked on her Master’s in Public Administration at the University of Arkansas. A typical week would find her on Monday teaching a kindergarten class and finishing the week by teaching a business class on Thursday and Friday at the high school. What a variety.

One Monday afternoon, actually nearly evening, Jene’ was headed for class at the University and said, "Dad, I had a scary few moments today. I lost Jesus." Now I know you just read that "Jesus" was lost, but she didn’t say "Jesus" she said Hayzeus. This Jesus is a little Hispanic boy. After much consternation and the involvement of the school office personnel, Jesus was found out on the playground, still enjoying recess.

I’ve had more than a few moments where I felt I might have lost Jesus (pronounced Geezus). At this moment I don’t care what your theology about the security of the believer, I’m still talking about "something out of place, or not in place" and I know when it’s not quite right. Jene’ discovered after recess that Jesus (Hispanic) was not sitting on his name taped on the carpet in a circle with the other kids. I think I have a similar type spot on the carpet of my life where I expect to find Jesus (Jewish) when I take time to look around and inventory.

I inventoried this morning. I was attending the funeral of a friend. He died after a long illness. He had been sick for so long I didn’t really realize he was this ill. Years ago, following my dad’s funeral service we were on our way to the gravesite. My sister was in the same family car as my grandmother, dad’s mother. Grandma, in her sympathy seeking way so gratingly familiar to all of us, stated that she just couldn’t believe that Elwyn (my dad) was dead. "I was sicker than he was…" stated grandma. "Obviously NOT, grandma." replied my dear sister.

I’m also aware of two more of my friends who are battling serious cancer situations. Each very ill, both terminal. In moments like these I glance around the carpet. It seems something is out of place, or not in place. Where is Jesus? He was here right before the last recess. Yes, I think I take mental and spiritual lapses one could charitably call recess. I suppose in a flight situation one would call it "automatic pilot."

Dear, dear me, I do think I’ve lost Jesus. Now Jesus (Hispanic) wasn’t lost. He knew where he was and he much preferred to be where he was than where he was supposed to be. I do think Jesus (Jewish) isn’t lost. He evidently just watched me wonder off on my flight of fancy and stands waiting for my return. I’m like a child in WalMart who knows the toys are just across the aisle from where mom is selecting toiletries. I move across that aisle and around a couple of displays enthralled with a close-up view of everything I see advertised on television. Then, when I turn to look back across the aisle for the security and comfort of my provider/protector, I perceive that she may be "lost."

Help! I am like that child, who initially looked for his mom because she has purchasing power then became very concerned because he needed her more, really, for security and comfort. At these moments in my life I need Jesus more for security and comfort than what He can get/do/change for me.

As one of these friends and I discussed recently, the fact of metastatic cancer was such a surprise to him, and to those of us close to him, "we never know what’s ‘eating’ on someone…" This is true physically, emotionally, mentally and spiritually. That’s why we always need to know where Jesus is.

My dear Lord and Savior, Comfort, Guide and Friend, I need you today. All does not seem to be well in my world. Perhaps it is as it should be, we live and we die. Perhaps it is that I’m somewhat more aware today that someday it will be my friends gathering for my burial. I feel unprepared for that. There really is more to dying than meeting you, Lord. I’m more excited about my sins being forgiven than I am about being ready to "meet" you.

I think something that may be out of place, right now it seems lost to me, is my sense of ambition. What happened to my sense of personal fulfillment? Why is it when examining the possibility of my own demise I feel such an acute lack of accomplishment?

I’m reminded of that little plaque on the kitchen wall when I was a small boy. It read,

"Only one life, twill soon be past

Only what’s done for Christ will last."

Well, Lord, I guess that’s what concerns me. If I have any time left, would you please grant me the grace to be able to live it in light of eternity?

Thank you Lord for occupying such an important place in the carpet of my life. Even though I look your way with less frequency than I ought, I cannot stand the feeling I have when I think you are missing.