Letters from a Friend: Living, not existing

It was the old, gray-haired lady, frame marked by the passing of time, and hardship, who nailed it. In one succinct sentence, she summed it up. She, new believer, come late to His table, but not too late, opened her mouth, and she spoke: “I’ve existed for a looong time, but I’ve only been living for six days.” 

Dear friend,

This is my word for you today: I came so that you could live.

I did not come so that you could merely exist. So that you could just scrape by. So that you could simply survive the reality and pains of living in a fallen world.

I paid the price for full passage into the Kingdom, not for a small, cramped seat on a life raft. I bought far more for you than that.

I walked in your shoes. Felt hunger, sickness and cold. I put on human skin, which, like yours, tore. Got scrapes. Felt heat and pain. And then, ultimately, was pierced with thorns and spears.

That’s what you meant to me. That’s what I was willing to give. My death for your life.

So honor my gift by really living, not existing. Walk with me. Abide in me. Stay close to me. Follow me, and out of your innermost being shall flow rivers of living water.

My heart’s desire for you is life, real life, from here to eternity and beyond.

Signed,

A Friend

This is the third installment in the new Letters from a Friend series. To life!