The Eyes of a Man

I look into the eyes of the man and I see the boy he once was. The boy who collected insects and rocks; the boy who created art out of everyday things found in the yard and the house and the boy who always seemed intelligent far beyond his years.

I look into the eyes of the man and I see the boy who I never really knew because of the difference in our ages. The teenager who found Christ at a youth camp in Panama City, yet I did not know how to rejoice with him. The boy who seemed to look up to me for something I did not know how to give.

I look into the eyes of the man and I see the young man embarking on a career that most folks would envy. A career of prestige, social standing and importance in the community. A career that I found myself envying because the young man had the drive and ambition that I think I lacked in those days.

I look into the eyes of the man and I see the man who for a number of years grew in directions separate from his family. We never lost contact, but the contacts were sometimes few and far between. I also see the eyes of the man’s mother when she would want to talk and hear his voice, yet the voice was not there.

I look into my own eyes and still see the tears shed on the night I heard of his three attempted suicides in a location far away. A location where he was alone and isolated from friends and family, yet going through a hell I will never know or can possibly imagine. I see the shock and grief in the eyes of his family and closest friends who were not aware of his plans as he made them for days ahead of time.

I look into the eyes of the man’s family and friends and see the tears of relief that the attempts did not succeed and the rush of the subsequent days to gather him back home and into the arms of the familiar. Yet, I see the questions, the hurt, the terror of the “what ifs”, but also the depth of love and concern for the man’s welfare and recovery.

I look into the eyes of the man and see the haunted, sad look of despair and knowledge of the pain he has caused those closest to him. However, I can also see the tiniest spark of determination to rebuild his life and prove to him that he is worth living, not just for others, but also for himself.

I look into the eyes of the man and see the joy of taking one step forward, yet many times I see the pain of the two steps backward which often follow. The pain of a bi-polar diagnosis, the joy of finding a job, the hurt of not being able to handle the pressures of employment at this time, the excitement over moving home, the sadness of not knowing what his future holds.

I look into the eyes of the man and I see on a daily basis his determination to beat the demons that have plagued him and, even though slowly, very slowly, begin to defeat them and grow a little stronger in his own manhood.

I look into the eyes of the man and I see my little brother. The boy I have grown to love as we grew to be men and now, the brother I will do anything within my power to protect, defend and to help face tomorrow. I see the man who is my brother that now in many ways I look up to because I see strength within him that I’m not sure I would have had in the same battles.

I look into the eyes of my brother and see the little boy, the teenager, the young man, and now, the man of whom I am so extremely proud. I see my brother who may have wandered from the arms of God for a season, but has not forgotten the Love that compels us; the Love that has protected him and has brought him back to me so that I might learn from him.

Pray for my brother. He’s the greatest guy in the world and I love him; and I especially want him to remember how much God loves him.

And for today my friends, this is the gospel according to Jimmy.