Today I Walked By

Today, I walked by a house.

From the outside it looked the same as always, but something inside felt different. Maybe the night before, an ambulance had tried to coax one last breath into the elderly man who lived there alone. Maybe, until yesterday, two people who once loved each other lived there and finally decided they were done fighting. Maybe the day before that, a mother opened the pantry, pulled out the last can of tuna for her children, and had no idea how she would replace it before the hunger came back.

Which of the houses I passed today am I talking about?

I have no way of knowing. Almost all of them looked ordinary. Almost all had their windows shut, as shut as the hearts of the people I passed along the way. I do not know their stories either, or the secrets they were carrying yesterday and the day before.

Maybe they are like those houses: ordinary on the outside, desolate within. Maybe there is a deep emptiness inside them, a void shaped exactly like a cross, waiting for bread and water that can only come from Him.

This world needs You so much, Jesus!