He is great enough to redeem every fault, to have mercy on all the contrite, and ultimately to reconcile every hurt and dry every tear on every face.

He is the God of Shannon. He is the God of the old neglectful man. May He have mercy on us all.

He is not blind to us, and He weeps for us- not empty tears alone, but blood that He would also choose to shed. He died to bring life to the dead- a life that can never be taken away, can never be assuaged by hunger or despair, and will last for all eternity.

Our God is the God of the broken, the neglected, the abandoned, and the suffering. He knows the pain of every creature and every man, and He elected to step down into this same creation and feel their weight first-hand.

I wanted to write a poem trying to capture Shannon's grief at the loss of her friend, as well as offer a eulogy to a lonely and broken man who left behind a lasting scar on the friend he assuredly loved the most.

In those high Heaven's skies,
to the King above who felt my pain:
Of my old friend who with me cried,
please know he was always kind.
So keep him safe and dry his eyes,
until we meet again.

They say it, and they mean it,
for they chose me of all,
to raise up from the brink,
of starvation's fatal call,
and death's dark grip.

But my lack of hope would be revinced.

My immortal friend is more than a lord of the dead,
but He is wholly life and love in sum,
so He sent another human friend to come,
and bring mortal healing in His stead.

My new friends love me.

I know they do.

Then I thought it would be my end,
and all my fear had run its course;
I would see my human friend again,
who yet in those final days had mortal sinned,
had been forgiven since,
by I- who suffered at his loving hand-
and also Him- who suffered worse.

So I looked to an ancient friend who hungered more,
and He gave me something real to eat,
a broken body, from Him who wept and bled,
that could give life forevermore.

Where was the food I hungered for, if no one gave it here?
I wept and wondered and trusted to
an ancient word that said
'we do not live by bread alone.'

I saw him past the gates of life, I escorted him to his final home; he could last no longer here.
I trust he made it there.

In this dark world, ahungered and alone,
I wept and whined and thought of him-
but he could not return.

Maybe he loved me too much;
for in those final days,
he chose not to part-
until frail body was cleaved of soul.
With me he wept and prayed,
so I offered him all my heart,
and he didn't let me go.

Yes, he loved me. But he didn't feed me.