being a discipler is both fulfilling & tearing. These souls, they come & are eventually laid bare. and all the wonders of their inward universe spill out its secrets, leaving me both making speeches & speechless. They come & are in time completely present... and then they go. and when they go they will not forget the lessons, but they will forget me... and the time i gave & the life i spent & spilled for them. They go on to the great things they were intended for & I go on to the next soul's universe & secrets. shaping & sculpting, as the master moves my trembling hand. imperfect. yes. but mostly fruitful & finishing the task i have been given. being a discipler is both fulfilling & tearing. It tears when they leave with no intention of returning or allowing me further space in their life. like a contract job, when it's done. it's over. and that tears a bit. truth is the star of the show, & i a mere bit player. the star should get all the glory. would have it no other way. but sometimes, like this 5am hour that finds me awake in it... I've no wish to be the star but simply to be remembered...and thanked, & occasionally contacted for some catch-up chat over coffee... even long after our act together has long since been over. selfish, i know. but the toughest aspect is this... when after many months & sometimes years of growth & lunges forward on their part & great sacrifice on mine, after many meetings & late nights & long calls & long fasts, & wordy texts messages & long silences & emergency drive-overs... after all this, what they eventually grow to live & walk in is good truth, but what is largely remembered of me, the barer of that truth, is some stray wound at my unsteady hand. and while it smacks of ingratitude, it mostly just tears. and those tears, like tonight, occasionally turn into tears.