Be Near

As a family gathered around the old, seen-it-all man with it all there written in the lines of his face and hands, began to pray.  His quiet strength is in his crooked grin and constant prayers, taking life in its full all in and breathing it back out in gratitude.  This man is covered in God and when he enters His courts, one can’t help but go along.

And in the middle of it all he grows quiet once again.  He asks two, weighty words to His Father, His Foundation & His Companion…

“Be near.”

And isn’t it just the right thing?  Be near.

When so much is needed, when so much is broken and hurting.
When so much is given and so much received.
When there is thanks to be given and hearts to be heard.
It’s all we can really say.

Be near.

And he was so near.  He is always so near.

He was there in the pile of shoes scattered a room full and piled high.  Every size and every kind, glittering boots of the little girls with dreams and dusty shoes from the ones who have gone before.

 He was there in the brother who turned me right around, eyes straight into mine to say “Happy     Thanksgiving.” 

He was there in the red-faced laughter of a grandma whose heart and love overflows.

He was there in the three babies grins and the sweet way they explored their new world.

He was there in the steaming hot gravy, the turkey piled high.

 And the thing I love most about this Amazing God…  Is that He is near no matter where we are.  

He is near to the one whose home is feeling a bit empty this holiday season.  Whose shoe pile is maybe of only two.  Shoes that only they can fill - a life that He sees.

He is near to the one whose felt the heart ache of a brother lost.  He, too, knows the pain of loss.  He comes close and He comforts.  

He is near to the tear-filled one whose spirit breaks.  And He heals, He makes whole.  

He is near to the one who longs to see a baby of their own.  He hears and He answers.

He is near to the one whose plates and bellies are empty.  He provides and He sustains.  

A life long-lived, lived well and lived full.  A grandfather.  A Father.  A Farmer.  A Husband.  Knowing just what to pray to a God who He knows, a God who He loves.  A God who is so near to him.  Whether he is right there in the middle of the whole lot of us or sitting quiet on a tractor in the field.

And miles across the way, his mama.  Frail and worn, white haired and as sweet as honey.  With a God who is so near.

That’s just the kind of God we serve.   Wherever you are, wherever you’ve been, as you pour out your thankful praise or humble yourself in desperation.  Maybe right now it’s a little or a lot of both.  You can be sure of this:

He is near.