on the back of a diesel wrecker

I’m on the back of a diesel wrecker, watching people and this African city pass by.

Women walk with heavy bags of grain balanced on their heads while children play in the dirt. A string of tractors and trucks wait in a “fuel queue,” a lengthy line to pay for overpriced gas with currency that’s essentially useless.

And the only thing I can think of is Jesus.

How Jesus used to roam through the streets, crowds watching His every move, eyes locked on Him. If they managed to touch His robe, they were healed. Even if they didn’t touch Him—if they just believed—they were healed.

It’s an amazing picture, God walking the streets.