I have never met Jesus.

Last night, I met a man badly shamed in his childhood. He sat in His humble chair. He honored me as I washed His feet there. I met Jesus last night.

I have never hugged Jesus.

Last night, I hugged a full grown man. Wounds of shame from long long ago still fresh on his mind. He sat in His well-worn chair. He graced me with the chance to wash His feet there. I hugged Jesus last night.

I have never seen Jesus.

Last night, I saw a woman with deep trauma from her youth. She sat in Her nondescript chair. She allowed me to gently wash Her feet there. I saw Jesus last night.

I have never been hugged by Jesus.

Last night, a woman hugged me and violently sobbed as she did. She sat in Her old lawn chair. She gave me the honor to wash Her feet there. Last night, Jesus hugged me very tight.

Last night has passed. Such a sweet peaceful night. Is Jesus real? Well….to this much I CAN attest. I have met Him. I have hugged Him. I have seen Her. She hugged me tight as She sobbed and sobbed and sobbed.

Today, I mourn that I can’t meet LeeAnn. I can’t hug LeeAnn. Assualted by her bishop at 14, the shame was too great. Her life was taken by her own hand. Oh…that She could sit in Her old lawn chair. Oh…that I could tenderly wash Her feet there.

Today, I mourn that I can’t see Sam. I can’t be tightly hugged by this innocent young man. Shamed and bullied he took is own life when merely 14. Oh…that He could sit in His humble chair. What an honor it would be to wash His feet there.