What are you doing Friday night?
Sometimes, the littlest thoughts are the greatest graces. Something flashes across the mind, and it is as though the whole kingdom of God just rolled out before you.
And maybe that Kingdom is there 24/7, but you think you just might be too busy to see it most of the time. But you just did. You just got it.
I had one of those moments tonight while reading the final pages of The Little Way of the Infant Jesus by Caryll Houselander.
Sure, the book is about the Infant Jesus, but the final pages are about Jesus in the Eucharist. Love unbound. Eternal love. Not love out there.
He who is Love. Right here. Right now.
And I thought of the young man who has set his heart on the love he wants so badly. If only she would notice him. If only he could be sure of her yes.
I thought of the girl who aches to be asked to prom by that one guy. Just him. If only he would notice her. If only he would walk away from his group of friends for just five minutes and say the words, “Are you going with anyone to prom this year?” Or “Does a guy like me stand a chance?”
Or the young wife with babies and toddlers and school-aged children who wonders if her husband still thinks of her like he once did.
Or the middle-aged wife who knows things are changing. He has to see the changes, too. What is he thinking now—thirty years into this married life?
Women don’t have a corner on this market of wondering. Men have doubts. They have insecurities. The hair transplant business knows their weaknesses all too well.
And the car salesman does too.
And the sales force at the local gym.
And in a flash, while reading Houselander, I thought of Jesus in the Eucharist. The One who is Love—sure love. Only-love-and-nothing-else kind of love.
There is no doubt in the mind of the beloved. No fears. No not-good-enoughs or once-upon-a-time about it.
You are loved. You are loved beyond your deepest need. He breathed you into being and sustains you with His Love. He longs for you.
Now. As yesterday. Today. As tomorrow.
He is a sure thing. He waits. Always has waited.
He watches you and wonders when you will walk away from your friends and ask Him what He is doing tonight. Next year. Your whole life-long.
I wonder if those called to religious life just figure this out quicker than the rest of us. Or maybe they just have the ability to hold that Truth confidently in their hearts for months and years and forever.
And I wanted to hold it close, too. Not let it go. Because in a few minutes, I will go back to my life. There will be dishes, and meals, and phone calls, and texts.
There will be appointments, and repairs needed to the house.
I’ll check out what’s on Amazon Prime to watch tonight, or start a load of laundry. And I won’t remember this Truth as deeply as I know it in this moment.
Jesus loves me with a relentless, all-consuming, overpowering, unchanging love.
He waits for me.
Pause for five seconds, and listen. He’s passing by. The whole Kingdom of God is passing by. And it’s time to look up from your friends, the laundry, the email inbox and soak it in.
Love is passing by.