Uncommon Friend


His name is Jesus.

That, for me, is his most comfortable name.


He’s called the Son of God.

He’s called the Staff and Rod.

He’s called Christ Crucified.

But Jesus is the best I’ve tried.


I like him.

You do too?

That makes him

Our common friend.


He was, however, a most uncommon man.

On Earth he walked

Seeming to be most everywhere,

And his spirit talked.


I often imagine

Having been a friend of his in his day,

A disciple if you will.

It was always nice having him as a friend,

With him it was always still.


I would be tired of running around all day

And I would yearn for peaceful conversation

To learn a few things,

Discern a few things.


He could always be found.

All I had to do was walk away

From the sound of the city.


It was pleasant walking in sandals

As candles came on in the city behind.

I always talked a lot at first,

And he always listened a lot at first.

Then I’d find my words running out,

And we would walk a little slower.

Finally we’d stop and stand there in the desert,

As the candles behind us burned lower.


Then my friend would speak.

He had vision beyond my rushing.

When he spoke it brought stillness,

A hushing.


Soon I had greater vision too.

Has it ever happened to you?

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