어깨가 무겁다 26-38

주간묵상 26-38<어깨가 무겁다> 어깨가 무겁다.무릎이 저리다.질식할 것 같다.머리가 터질 것 같다.옹달샘 물이 메마를까봐- 누군가는태평양에 배를 띄우고한강에서 헤엄치고폭포에서 시를 읊은데이 미천한 종조롱박을 들고옹달샘 가에서나그네를 기다리고 있구나! 때로는내 어찌 이 일을 시작했던가?한탄도 했건만수십 년이 지나도록단수하지 않으신 은혜 때로는 넋두리 하여도옹달샘지기를 만드신 주님그 은혜 너무너무 감사 역사, 문화, 예술,과학, 경제, 정치 등등극에서 극으로 변하는신화 같은 시대를 살며그 속에서 진액을 뽑아옹달샘을 만들게 하신 은혜 전쟁의 후유증,가난과 궁핍의 흙담집,원시시대를 방불케 하는방공호 토굴 속,소꿉놀이 같은 생애. 5일 장터 구경나가풀빵장사 빵틀 옆에붕어빵 지느러미 주어먹던 추억그 많은 추억 중에가장 선명한 추억가난의 한이 서려 있기에? 소박한 꿈나도 크면 풀빵장사하리라동전 몇 푼 주고받는 것 부러워-가난의 한이 서려 있기에그래서 말씀의 떡 장사가? 초등학교도정상으로 마치지 못한시골뜨기 철부지어미 떠나 팔려가는 송아지처럼음매 음매 하며 홀로 객지로 셀 수 없이 다양한 극한경험옹달샘 생수로 변하여갈증을 해소케 하신 은혜이젠 폭포를 주시려나,태평양을 맡기시려나,왜 이렇게 어깨가 무거운가? 밧줄에 묶으시고질식케 하시고각을 뜨심이옹달샘을 메우진 않으시길- 80고령의어깨가 무너지고무릎이 망가지고눈이 짓무르고질식할 것 같은 골방.옹달샘으로도 족한데- <a href="https://cafe.daum.net/smallwaterdrop/KU4B/721" target="_top" class="ke-link">https://cafe.daum.net/smallwaterdrop/KU4B/721</a>월드미션센터, 선교중앙교회김윤식 목사(평생선교사)Weekly Meditation 26-38〈The Burden upon My Shoulders〉   My shoulders are heavy.My knees ache and grow numb.I feel as though I am suffocating.My head feels ready to burst.I fear that the little springmay one day run dry—   Some launch their shipsupon the Pacific,some swim the broad Han River,and some recite poetrybefore thundering waterfalls.But here I am,Your lowly servant,holding a small gourd dipperbeside a little woodland spring,waiting for a weary traveler.   At times I have lamented,“Why did I ever begin this work?”Yet for all these many decades,Your grace has nevercut off the flow of water.   Though I have sometimespoured out my complaints,You, Lord, appointed meto be the keeper of this little spring.How deeply, deeply grateful I amfor such grace!   History and culture,art and science,economics and politics—You allowed me to livethrough an age like a myth,an age swingingfrom one extreme to another.And from all that I witnessed,You pressed out the essenceand made it flowinto this little spring.   The aftermath of war,a mud-walled houseof poverty and want,a dugout air-raid shelterlike a cave from some primitive age—Such was the makeshift lifeof my childhood.   I remember goingto the five-day village marketand picking up the broken finsof fish-shaped pastriesbeside a street vendor’s iron mold.Of all my countless memories,why does that one remainthe clearest?   Is it because it carriesthe deep sorrow of poverty?   My childhood dream was simple:“When I grow up,I too will sell pastries.”How I envied the vendorreceiving and returningthose few small coins!Was it becausethe ache of povertyremained within methat You later made mea humble bearerof the Bread of the Word?   I was a naive country boywho could not even completeelementary school properly.Like a calf torn from its motherand sold away,I went alone to a distant place,crying, “Moo—moo—,”within my lonely heart.   Countless and variedextremes of lifewere transformed by Your graceinto living water,bringing reliefto those who thirsted.   And now—Will You entrust mewith a waterfall?Will You place the Pacificinto my care?Why, then,is the burden upon my shouldersso unbearably heavy?   Lord, though I feelbound with ropes,though I can scarcely breathe,though I feelas if I am being carved apart,please do not allowthis little springto be stopped up.   At eighty years of age,my shoulders are collapsing,my knees are giving way,my eyes are sore and failing,and here, in this secluded room,I struggle even to breathe.Lord,this little springhas always been enough for me—