When you close your eyes, and think about the trials you bear in this life, one thing calls out for help more than anything. It is your dying heart. But you and I know that if we were born in a loveless place, we would begin this life with a brokenness that nobody can fix, no matter how hard they try to. But you know that we cannot save anyone though we can certainly love whom we choose. And we also know, from the journey of inspirational people, that no strong person comes from an easy life.
But there is a simple life in our paradise, as opposed to a complicated one. No, I must beg of you; wealth is not part of that equation because material things do not stand a chance when it is your soul that is contented. Yet we must be like a loving child, filled with hope for the world around us. For you and I know, that the simple lives we live is for a divine purpose only.
But if you look deeper into the heart of simple living, you will notice that one’s devoutness is often taken for granted. In living simply, we are vulnerable to the tyrants who can feed from our earnestness and humility. I hope for your innocent living that you will find a heart that loves you back as much as you give to the terrible things that need love in this life. I hope for your daughters and sons that they too will bear your gratefulness and my patriotism. I hope that when you and I are gone, our children will be proud of us, missing our wisdom, and finding purpose in our unsaid misbelieving.
But if a child sells goods on the streets, and an old woman sleeps there too for the same reason, where are the chieftains and the godly? Seems we often ask the poor man to define poverty, yet he lives there with a deep gratitude because his earnestness blinds him from what he really owns and is not claiming. If we ponder the earnestness of simple men, we are made to understand the powers of the blue sea on a stormy day. A generous heart is like the ocean, never defeated.
But what do we have to lose when we are surrounded by turmoil? If the church we sit in is not whispering back, what chief will rise in our pain, what politician will find us deserving, and what godly man will heal us? Everyone seems to float by, but not like the yellow butterflies whose floating make me believe in angels. Those people we worship in this life seem to be oblivious of our kindnesses and our worshipping.
Dear reader, I have looked into an old man’s kind eyes and believed in him. Such is the blessing of having a loving grandfather. Such a pure love never leaves you, and it visits you when you are faced with so much sadness that you lose faith in yourself sometimes.
Yet, I feel the broken heartedness of our youth when I think about our idols these days. I learned as a youth that the people we worship are never perfect. And sadly, when they are, they do not live forever. Yet, of our idols, we must learn to forgive their humanity, and to bear with this long life regardless of who is blessed with our devoutness. For only in our patient hearts, will we find our purpose for this troubled life.
Our deaths arrive separately, dear reader, so do not let go of that reality most of all. For one day, it will be our turn. Then when it comes, I hope you will remember that this simple life we chose is not a burden but a blessing. It is a blessing that finds you and I, in the midst of tribulation quoting the words of a poet, “ Here I am, where I ought to be.” God speed you on, as I sit here looking at yellow butterflies, as they fly out to find the end of the mighty sea.