He wept. We weep.

by DanWolgemuth on July 1, 2022

But as he came closer to Jerusalem and saw the city ahead, he began to weep. (Luke 19:41)

“It wouldn’t be so bad if my Mom just smoked pot.”

A 12-year-old. A camper at our YFC middle school camp. A throwaway line to a cabin leader who had helped to get this boy to camp. A leader who had shopped for clothes and paid for a haircut so that this young man could feel comfortable entering into the camp experience.

A 12-year-old.

It’s been three years since Mary and I participated in YFC Camp. Three long years. But years that have a new weight after being with 300+ middle schoolers.

While I was complaining about masks and shots, this young man was quarantined with addiction and promiscuity.

While I was arguing politics, this young man was living in an unimaginable hell.

While Christians were finding new ways to fracture, this boy was watching his life explode.

Unthinkable. But true.

For a week, a kid. A child. A camper.

Laughing. Cheering. Roaring. Zip-lining. Swimming. And, yes, hearing about a God who loves him so much that He sent His son. His only begotten son.

Into the mess. Into the chaos. Into the uncertainty.

At one point Jesus looked at Jerusalem and wept.

He didn’t blog… or post… or comment… or rage… or film. He wept.

And so should we. Not in hopelessness. But in lament. With deep sorrow.

What a mess we have made. What brokenness we have accepted.

A poverty of the soul. Foolishness with extra velocity.

So much energy wasted. So much time lost. Fighting over lesser things.

This Fragment has no bow. No tidy ending.

Just a reminder. A call. A plea.

A generation is waiting for us to get our act together. To come together as the Body of Christ. With conviction. With clarity. In unity. Without compromise.

The stakes are too high.

Until then. Tears.

For Jerusalem. For 12-year-old-boys who wish their mom’s only smoked pot.

Lord help us. Please.

{ 0 comments… add one now }

Leave a Comment

Previous post:

Next post: