A young man, boyish in his smile and giggles.  Way too young for the date his birth certificate gives.  Crippled in mind and body.  This is one of my students.  In the middle of Music Therapy, which meets in the chapel, he stands up, tottering on his weak legs and says to me

I’m going to point at something you need to see.

And with a dramatic sweep of his one good arm, he points.  To the cross.

He does it often.  With a different introduction each time.  Do you know who loves you?  And he points.  Who is my best friend?  And he points.  Is this your favorite thing?  And he points.  Does this make you happy?  And he points.  Is this how you get to heaven?  And he points.

And even though he goes through the same routine every day, it never gets old.  And each time, I’m really grateful for this literal action of turning my eyes to the cross.  I do need to look at it.  In the middle of class.  In the middle of a conversation.  In the middle of trying to balance the sixteen things I’m holding.  In the middle of trying to love well, learn well, serve well.    Jesus, keep me near the cross…  To keep my eyes lifted and my heart focused on Jesus. 

Isaac Watts said it, too some 306 years ago…

When I survey the wondrous cross

                on which the Prince of Glory died;

                my richest gain I count but loss,

                and pour contempt on all my pride.


                Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast,

                save in the death of Christ, my God;

                all the vain things that charm me most,

                I sacrifice them to his blood.


                See, from his head, his hands, his feet,

                sorrow and love flow mingled down.

                Did e'er such love and sorrow meet,

                or thorns compose so rich a crown.


                Were the whole realm of nature mine,

                that were an offering far too small;

                love so amazing, so divine,

                demands my soul, my life, my all.


And this young man whose IQ is too low for our functional society, will not let me go one day without seeing the best part of life.  Why do we, who have high IQ's and high levels of abilities make is so very difficult.
Do you know who loves you?   Who is my best friend?    Is this your favorite thing?   Does this make you happy?  Is this how you get to heaven?

And I hope that the way I love, the way I teach, everything I do and everything that comes out of my mouth is saying...
 I’m going to point at something you need to see.



Popular Posts