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All The Way Home

I can still hear her voice echoing the words in my head and even more so within my heart. “All the way home Martha. All the way home.” After listening to a message by Jill Briscoe, my heart is saddened at the many times I have propped my cross against the wall, feeling it was too heavy and taking way to long to get to the desired destination. How could I ever think my cross bearing was impossible since He made it possible through His own cross bearing? He carried that cross on his beaten body, climbed upon it and willingly gave up His life to obey the Father.

Do you find yourself weary today? Is His call weighing you down? Do you at times, like me, feel that you have served and it is time for a rest? Today I want to share Jill’s poem and pray that it will encourage you to take up your cross daily and follow Him all the way home.

All The Way Home

Jesus said, “Take up your cross and follow Me!” Matthew 16:24

One day in India after a traumatic and wrenching ministry visit, Jesus asked me a hard question. It happened like this:

Shaken, drained, discouraged, sickly Tired and troubled and depressed, Glad the time of serving over, Now I’ll go home and rest.

Hot and humid was the weather Sad and needy was the crowd, Feeling I had done my duty, Earned the time of rest allowed.

Soon I could return to family "Yes," tomorrow I’d be gone, Sitting in the last hot meeting, I tuned in to what went on.

Listened to my husband preaching, My, it was a great last talk, All about the call of Jesus, All about our life’s “faith walk.”

Stuart opened up the Scriptures Talked of Jesus’ pain and loss, How He who was our great sin bearer, Bore our guilt upon His cross.

What a great word for the students! Hoped “they’d” listened, yield their hearts, They were young, their lives before them, Now their turn to do their part.

Time for prayers of dedication, I was tired, so late at night, Shut my eyes and wished it over, When a picture sprang to sight!

Saw a cross alone, discarded Lain at rest against a wall, Who’d lain down such holy symbol? Who’d abandoned life’s “faith call”?

Then a voice so dear – familiar, Asked a question – pierced me through, Who is it that you’re expecting Carrying it home for you?

How could I lay down that crossbeam? How to think that no one saw? Who did I expect to lift it, Carry it to heaven’s door?

"Jesus, Jesus, please forgive me, Carried Thou your cross for me, All the way to hell to save us, Help me carry mine for Thee!"

"I’m no hero – special woman Just a lady, old and gray, But my cross, Lord, I will carry, Home, Lord, home, Lord – ALL THE WAY!"

Spoke His voice so quiet – but clearly then: "All the way home, Jill; all the way, all the way home!"

Jill Briscoe © 2012

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