Find the door

I don't even know why I'm writing this. Even though I'm lost, maybe I'm not as great a failure as it may seem to me.

I led Sunday School for my 5th and 6th graders today, wherein we talked about words, gossip, and the destructive effect that our words can have. We re-enacted the story of Abimelech from Judges 9. I think maybe some of the kids got it. I don't know. I led College and Career, and we talked about Hebrews 7, and the Priestly order of Melchizedek, and Jesus' High Priesthood as being of that line and order.

Then, later after church, be still earlier today, I got a call saying that the mom of one of my friends from high school was getting evicted, and could I come help move. This lady is looking after a couple of her family members, none of them are in the best of health, and my buddy from high school is a couple thousand miles away with no real ability to get here. So they're in a bind, right now they don't even have a place to live once they get evicted. We moved some of their stuff into a storage unit today, and are going back tomorrow and Tuesday (e-mail me if anyone who reads this wants to/has the ability to help.)

How are these two connected?

Hebrews 7 says that Christ always lives to intercede for us. Hebrews says that only Christ was the perfect sacrifice and sacrificer for our sins, and that Christ has authority forever, that He is the way we draw near to the Father. As I was helping move, I thought about my own inadequacy. My own failure and my own poor communication with Christ. And though all of this misstep of our own, we can still be used by God, by Christ. But yet, I can't truly help the folks that we were moving. Christ is the one who truly helps. All of us humans are still corrupted, still defeated by our own fallen flesh. Christ alone is perfection, is completeness.

So as this woman is crying while she describes her problems to me, I search for words to comfort, to heal. I don't find any. None that come out of my human state are sufficient. Only He has the words. I don't listen well enough to find what He would have me say, and I have nothing to offer. No words to wipe tears from eyes. No words to ease the struggle. For that, I can't even apologize. How do you apologize for this? How do I? I do the only thing I can, and that's promise to come back. To try to solve the temporary because I lack the faith and trust in the Father's guidance to offer any help for the future.

We are sons and heirs of grace. That must mean more to me than it does now, it has to. Not just for my own sake, but the sake of those who seem to think I can help, the sake of those who have been entrusted in some way to me, the sake of the wife and children I hope to share myself with one day, and the sake of the One who died to be my Savior.