Passed a man today who stood on a street corner punching the change-the-light button over and over. Wild-eyed, he danced and waved his hands, shook his derriere and giggled as he punched and punched. Finally, he crossed the street, a busy, fast paced intersection; but when he reached the other side, he turned around and crossed back the same way he’d just come and commenced to push the button all over again. Other motorists eyed him, warily. One women rolled up her window. This went on until the light changed and I drove on past him. I noticed my stomach had been in a knot the whole time. Mental illness disturbs me. And I suspect it disturbs many of you. I asked The Lord at that moment to care for that poor confused soul. Only He knows the suffering the poor devil is going through. Only He knows the path to his peace of mind. Such a relief came over me. I don’t have to be anxious for the lost and suffering. Try to care for them, yes. Try, when it’s possible, to do something, but I don’t believe we’re called to fret and worry. Some may call me callous. But for that deranged traveler there is an answer and it may result in tragedy. But it is not for me to know or for you to know. Therein lie the letters of the most difficult word in the language to spell: trust.


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