Two and a half years ago, I sat in a Bosnian couple’s home and listened their story—their conversion and marriage, how they started a church and then a coffee shop to try to support themselves in a terrible economy, and the birth of their two sons,one of whom was born severely handicapped.
It was this boy’s story—and the relationship between the boy and his parents—that remains vividly etched in my mind, despite the hundreds of stories I have heard since that time. As I listened and watched in their home, I remember struggling to keep back my tears, and I was conscious that I was in the presence of something inexplicably powerful—in fact, looking back, I think it was an acute awareness of the presence of Jesus in that home, sitting next to that little boy’s fragile body. You might even say that this experience gave me a glimpse behind the curtain of God’s mystery—the way power, weakness, and love work in the kingdom of God.
Yesterday, I heard that this boy’s heart gave out and he died. Although the hope before us is the picture of his weak and bent body resurrected strong and whole, I know that such a picture cannot curb the grief and loss his family must feel. In tribute to his life—a life valuable and precious to Jesus—I am re-posting his story: The God Who Sees. Please keep his family in your prayers.