A few days later, when Jesus again entered Capernaum, the people heard that he had come home. They gathered in such large numbers that there was no room left, not even outside the door, and he preached the word to them. Some men came, bringing to him a paralyzed man, carried by four of them. Since they could not get him to Jesus because of the crowd, they made an opening in the roof above Jesus by digging through it and then lowered the mat the man was lying on. When Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralyzed man, “Son, your sins are forgiven.”
-Mark 2:1-5
These past few weeks, the message that has been persistent in my quiet time, in church, and basically, my life, has been community. I have friends. But do I really have community? I have to stop and think. I have close friends, friends I would protect and defend. I have friends whose company really lights up my day, and I'd never trade them for the world. But I don't confide in them. Sometimes, I do, when it's not too severe. But I don't always talk about the darkness. Don't get me wrong. I trust them with my life. But then I have to protect them from the darkness, right? That's why I shouldn't be talking to them about it. Because that darkness inside me is a spirit that might consume them, too, if I open myself and let out too much of it. Besides, isn't that just whining on my part?
Community. Community. Lord, You'll need to teach me in this area. I'm a bit blank. What do You want me to learn?
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