He calls me on his birthday. Seventy-one today. A true father to the fatherless, he cares to listen. He asks my condition. He encourages, advises, and patiently instructs. Here is a man who loves unconditionally. I know, not because he says it; I know because he does it.
If only we knew how much we are loved. If only we loved like Dennis. What grace!
Flooding in comes all the grand examples of the providence of God. The red birds’ appearing. The chance meeting with Daddy’s best friend. The parable of daily bread read to a dying woman after holding out my empty hand repeating softly, “I trust you, Lord.” The tender, unmistakable instructions to eat; to rest. The dinner date planned months prior. The revelatory dream. The friend who just happened to be there. The song that prepared. The woman with the expensive perfume. The beatitudes. The movie.
Yes, the movie. Collateral Beauty. Pain is not collateral damage. Pain is collateral beauty. If we hurt, we know we love. We have love. We share love. We do love. Even the deepest pain reflects our grandiose blessedness.
If only we knew how much we are loved. If only we loved like Dennis; like God. His love is everywhere; in everything; always. Even all that is wrong in the world proves that true love is real, that injustice is wrong, that righteousness is worth striving for, and that pain has great and beautiful purpose.
When a man cannot so much as speak for how much he hurts; how much he loves, therein is the power of God. Pain is not collateral damage. Pain is collateral beauty. My Lord, I trust you. My God, how great Thou art!