I have never quite known how to ‘love’ Jesus.
Indeed, Jesus had died willingly for us, and by his death absolved us sinful beings. And I can think of no more exemplary a form of love than to suffer a world of pain in order to spare a loved one that very demise. It would appear awfully blunt and ungrateful of me to then say that for his all sacrifices, I still do not wholly, genuinely love him. Yet, such is the nature of my ignorant self. For though I am confident that his death had alleviated our sufferings, it is a sacrifice distant, diminished by time and dwindled in history’s spiral, and because of that I fail to feel the tendrils of his love. How should anyone be able to profess to be true a love built on knowledge alone rather than on something felt?
But just hours ago, at the dawn of Christmas, while I was at church, it suddenly came upon me that I had been looking to love Jesus from the wrong angle. I had been seeking to love him for his death; that ultimate and timeless sacrifice. And all the while I fail to realize the single most important thing he had brought us – the Catholic faith. Had he never come, we would not have had this beautiful church to call a home and sing praises in on the 25th of December. Had he never come, I might not have met all these amazing people. Had he never come, my life would have been barren, like a desert without a spiritual oasis, and I, in my ignorance, would have been content living in that desert; content in never having tasted the emancipating waters of faith.
So I guess I know better now.
PS: Special mention to Madeleine the teacher, Grace Mary the life-scientist and Rachel the dancer for their wonderful cards/notebook. This is my terribly poor attempt at showing gratitude but gratitude nonetheless 🙂