Tuesday, October 02, 2012
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
People were bringing little children to him, for him to touch them. The disciples scolded them, but when Jesus saw this he was indignant and said to them, 'Let the little children come to me; do not stop them; for it is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs. In truth I tell you, anyone who does not welcome the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.' Then he embraced them, laid his hands on them and gave them his blessing.
Many times this story excited craving and brought tears to my eyes. I yearned to be the child Jesus blessed.
I was that child. I hungered for the blessing of his hands. There were wounds old and new crying out to be tenderly touched. My heart longed for Jesus’ gentle welcome.
Savoring this story, I saw his hands reach out to touch and bless me, to receive me into the arms of divine love. As he did, peace flowed into over hidden crevices of my soul where wounds festered, wounds from feeling unwelcome in so many places and occasions of my life. Healing came, at least for the time of meditation.
I remember those days and wonder why this day is different. Tears pool at the corners of my eyes, but the emotion is not as intense now. My need is less. My soul is quieter, placid, lacking the agitation once stirred by this little story of blessing.
Is this a lack, a loss? Maybe. Maybe my heart has grown apathetic, having lost its zeal. But then maybe not.
Maybe my anxious need has subsided because my heart has received enough love and grace to still the needy craving of my heart.
Maybe my heart can rest, no longer crazy hungry for the next graced moment when Jesus welcome breaks through because my heart finally ‘gets it.’
I have felt the embrace that received the children receiving me so many times and in so many ways that I know I am forever wanted and welcome by the Love that has haunted me from the earliest days of my life.
Today, I look at the story again. I see the open arms of Jesus, his arms enfolding me, his hands touching my head, and I know he welcomes me and wants me and always will.
I need not hurry into those arms as if starved for what every human heart needs. I am one who knows, thanks be to God. So, I step quietly toward him, and my heart rests in quiet knowing.
Pr. David L. Miller