But Jesus said to him, “Let the dead bury their own dead; but as for you, go and proclaim the kingdom of God.” (Luke 9:60)
This is Jesus’s reply to someone he called to follow him, but who wanted to “bury his father” first. It’s particularly hard for me to read right now; it appears as if my father may be dying, and I feel the pull to be near him and speak words of comfort–including the kingdom of God–to him.
But my spirit and mind know that Jesus’s will for that man isn’t the same as Jesus’s will for me; caring for my father is my particular glory and burden. I believe the words of Dr Watts:
Jesus can make a dying bed
Feel soft as downy pillows are;
While on His breast I lean my head,
And breathe my life out sweetly there.
And pray this for my father, who is “fond of his prison and his clay”:
Oh if my Lord would come and meet,
My soul would stretch her wings in haste,
Fly fearless through death’s iron gate,
Nor feel the terrors as she passed.
Update, later in the day: It looks like my father is recovering.