Where does the outcast weep? 

These are reflections inspired by the writing of my favorite author Brennan Manning. The beginning comments are written by my friend who gave me permission to post here. She writes: Where does the outcast weep?  Could it be in a darkened room, hidden away in the heavy shadows?  Or is the outcast weeping on the corner of a busy street where all can see, met with cold dark stares? Oh… the out cast…. I’ve seen her in those places, and though she blends in with the world’s mass of faces…. She can not hide much longer.  Where she hides and where she runs, wherever she goes she is not alone. For this outcast’s tears splash upon the foot of the cross. There hung the man who knew sorrows. His tears, mingled with His own blood, fell upon her head.  He has quickened His pace as she runs faster and faster. Even though she may not know it, every tear is accounted for.  

Where does the outcast weep now?  In the arms of the risen Lord… the King of Kings and Prince of Peace, though she lays as in death, curled up just trying to hold it all together, His tears wash over her, and that heart of stone begins to crack.  Those tears dampen Jesus’ sleeves where she hides, for His arms are around her.  From the depths of the inside, ooze the outcasts blackened, sinful will.  When the last drop of black poison, falls from the heart, she will know whose arms she rests.  She will no longer be blinded by the bitterness and deafened by the enemies lies.  

The outcast…. She no longer weeps alone. The outcast’s tears of freedom are mingled with the Son of God’s.  Outcast no longer, but daughter of the King.  Adopted and given an inheritance in eternity.  Someday, in joy, she’ll find other outcasts and lead them to the Father. 

My thoughts will come in a seperate post.