February 18, 2017

I trusted Jesus would come but he didn't. 

I would sit at times by the train station to see all the people in the morning coming and going to their jobs. 

They always seem busy. 

They always need to get somewhere, and that "somewhere" for some reason depends on them to function. 

That "somewhere" has power over them and rules their lives. 

Somewhere they might not even belong or feel called to,  and maybe makes them miserable but still they diligently march towards it. 

Some feel sad and I can see it. Some seem sad and I can feel it. Sadness is such a silence thing. No matter how loud these people are screaming on the inside, I would never been able to hear it if it wasn't because I've been sad before and I know the smell of sadness from a block away. 

Sadness is a mute quality, that's why people don't mind it, it is easy to ignore and continue your life with it. Thus people forget they are sad and the word becomes a prison, a tasteless prison.

I would not understand how we came to this, what went wrong, why the sorrow in people's eyes.

It is not a fair thing, it is not how they pictured life. It is not what they had planned to spend their lives doing, nor how I planned to spend each morning by the train station, contemplating the misery in others and maybe in myself.

I am deeply afraid Jesus is not coming. You can be afraid of it too, while sitting at a park or a even Times Square wondering the same things I often wonder.

Like a contemplative voice seeking for silence in the midst of the city at times we wonder as we look at the mirror: "what have you done to me God?".  And we try to ignore and avoid the answer, because it may lead to things a few recognize to be sane.

I know things and I am afraid of the same things you are.

I am afraid of losing my life, of being hurt and not being able to be restored. I am afraid of dark places, I am afraid of falling and relapsing into sin with no way back, I am afraid of Jesus not coming back as I was told. And  it is ok to be afraid sometimes (I guess). it is ok to be fragile, and  it is ok to trust while uncertainty reigns over all our plans. 

It is ok to be afraid sometimes, because it makes us brave enough to rather live in constant recovery than whole and miserable sitting by a train station, a park or Times Square every morning, sitting in our safe places while misery dances freely within and outside of us.

It is ok to be fragile because at some point our doubts  would need to die, and they'd become a bittersweet memory of how tasteless the world was before we sat down by the mountain to weep our lives away. 

It is ok to trust because we can rather lay our lives down than expect someone to live it for us or waste them on the wrong ideal. 

I really trust Jesus would come but I fee like he doesn. I am expecting to see him coming through the door of my struggles. But I am a fool, for He is already there, before I get to the pit of my sinfulness and the stormy conditions of my life... He is already there.

He is already here but at times we don't see Him because he is transfigured, in the poor, in the weak, in those who walk with us, and even in us when we looke in the mirror and ask "what have you done to me God?". 

He is transfigured when we are afraid, he is the courage, he is the friend, and sometimes the enemy too. 

He  is transfigured each day in each thing, in each time we sit by the train station, the park or Time Square.

And thus we must ask to be able to see him.

I trust Jesus would come... and he does, it's just me the one who misses him at times. 

May our hearts be transfigured in your mercy, Jesus our beloved brother.

Frassati NY