Marissa

As I was sorting through my daughter’s clothes last week, I came across a little pink bathrobe that got me thinking about a girl that I used to know.

Her name was Marissa. We met in a grocery store café a few years ago for coffee – old friends from high school getting re-acquainted. We talked for a couple of hours about life, marriage, and God. She started to come to the small group that I attended weekly.

The last time we spoke was just before my oldest daughter was born. Marissa arrived at my baby shower armed with a green plaid nursing pillow and the little pink bathrobe. Then we lost touch.

As I hung the little bathrobe in my daughter’s closet last week I wondered, What happened to her? That question was answered today. I received word this afternoon that Marissa passed away on Saturday. A life tragically cut short at the age of 32.

I don’t know if Marissa ever ended up asking Jesus into her heart, but I’m glad I had the chance to share my faith with her.

This hasn’t always been the case. A number of years ago, I got together for coffee with another old high-school friend and didn’t share my faith. The thing is, I knew he had an inoperable brain tumor. I thought there would be another chance to tell him about Jesus.

I was wrong.

I still weep when I think about it. People always slip in and out of our acquaintance. Do we sit quietly by as they pass through our lives or do we take advantage of every opportunity we have to tell them about our Savior?

How can we sit frozen with fear while people around us are dying and going to hell? The Cross must mean everything to us or else it means nothing at all!

So, Lord, let it mean more! Let us never take for granted the life that was poured out so we could be free! And let us never … never … never keep quiet about the good things You’ve done!

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