Hidden Only When I am Blinded
Jesus said to them, "Amen, amen, I say to you,
before Abraham came to be, I AM."
So they picked up stones to throw at him;
but Jesus hid and went out of the temple area.
Jn 8:58-59
At the moment when Jesus clearly identifies himself, others deny him. An opportunity to embrace the most tangible form of incarnate love is forsaken. As they turn from him, he departs from their presence. He is hidden.
Praying through today’s Gospel from John challenged me to take a deeper look at the interior of my soul and to enter a particularly introspective mood in considering the ways in which the presence of God has been hidden in my midst, even though he had clearly identified himself, while I had denied his presence. The reason for denial? I can conjure up an array of convincing excuses.
I have never considered being an educator or the formation of students to be defined first as work or employment. We are blessed as members of a community in which we view education and our journey alongside the youth in our care as fundamentally vocational. It is about living our faith in community and coming into more perfect communion with God as we better understand each other, our students, and the broader community. In living out this vocation, when are the moments of insight when God’s presence has materialized in a moment of love, kindness, and sincere gratitude? They are easy to miss. Thank God for our students and the gift of wonder that they bring to our work. They have a talent for identifying Christ in a variety of settings. They do so because they maintain an awareness of the divine in the unique presence of each person they encounter. It’s encouraging to follow their lead.
While at the Santa Maria Nursing Home in Antigua, Guatemala over spring break, I paused for a moment of silence to consider the different activities occurring simultaneously around us. I was busying myself with the donation bag, rummaging through to find the next possible activity or game set. I was deep in my concern that perhaps we needed more games and additional crayons or a more appealing array of nail polish for the women who desired a manicure. Surprise! The hidden treasure wasn’t in the donation bag. It wasn’t found in planning the next activity or ensuring that the supplies were sufficient. One of our faculty team members asked me to accompany her to the front section of the nursing home. I paused the donation bag search and placed the bag on the floor. As we walked toward the front hallway, we turned the corner and the desolation of restlessness that I had felt changed instantaneously. One of our students was holding hands with an elderly woman as she hummed what sounded like a hymn. On her face, a divine smile that was reflected in the eyes of a student. He delighted in God’s very real and tangible presence… no longer hidden, but undeniable.
We don’t need to travel to Guatemala or even visit a nursing home to find these moments when Christ reveals himself to us. I’m beginning to realize that he is only hidden while I allow myself to be blinded.
Lord, this season of Lent, may I come to see you and experience you as you are, calling me to follow you with sincerity and trust. You identify yourself in our students, families, friends, and those we serve. Help me pause and bask in the compelling joy of your presence and love.
before Abraham came to be, I AM."
So they picked up stones to throw at him;
but Jesus hid and went out of the temple area.
Jn 8:58-59
At the moment when Jesus clearly identifies himself, others deny him. An opportunity to embrace the most tangible form of incarnate love is forsaken. As they turn from him, he departs from their presence. He is hidden.
Praying through today’s Gospel from John challenged me to take a deeper look at the interior of my soul and to enter a particularly introspective mood in considering the ways in which the presence of God has been hidden in my midst, even though he had clearly identified himself, while I had denied his presence. The reason for denial? I can conjure up an array of convincing excuses.
I have never considered being an educator or the formation of students to be defined first as work or employment. We are blessed as members of a community in which we view education and our journey alongside the youth in our care as fundamentally vocational. It is about living our faith in community and coming into more perfect communion with God as we better understand each other, our students, and the broader community. In living out this vocation, when are the moments of insight when God’s presence has materialized in a moment of love, kindness, and sincere gratitude? They are easy to miss. Thank God for our students and the gift of wonder that they bring to our work. They have a talent for identifying Christ in a variety of settings. They do so because they maintain an awareness of the divine in the unique presence of each person they encounter. It’s encouraging to follow their lead.
While at the Santa Maria Nursing Home in Antigua, Guatemala over spring break, I paused for a moment of silence to consider the different activities occurring simultaneously around us. I was busying myself with the donation bag, rummaging through to find the next possible activity or game set. I was deep in my concern that perhaps we needed more games and additional crayons or a more appealing array of nail polish for the women who desired a manicure. Surprise! The hidden treasure wasn’t in the donation bag. It wasn’t found in planning the next activity or ensuring that the supplies were sufficient. One of our faculty team members asked me to accompany her to the front section of the nursing home. I paused the donation bag search and placed the bag on the floor. As we walked toward the front hallway, we turned the corner and the desolation of restlessness that I had felt changed instantaneously. One of our students was holding hands with an elderly woman as she hummed what sounded like a hymn. On her face, a divine smile that was reflected in the eyes of a student. He delighted in God’s very real and tangible presence… no longer hidden, but undeniable.
We don’t need to travel to Guatemala or even visit a nursing home to find these moments when Christ reveals himself to us. I’m beginning to realize that he is only hidden while I allow myself to be blinded.
Lord, this season of Lent, may I come to see you and experience you as you are, calling me to follow you with sincerity and trust. You identify yourself in our students, families, friends, and those we serve. Help me pause and bask in the compelling joy of your presence and love.
Comments
Post a Comment