Where Nobody Wants to Be

There are places on the planet that are difficult to visit. I’ve spent time at a few over the years: hospitals and memory care facilities, for sure. Jails and prisons, too, though I’ve never actually had to visit anyone there. Funeral parlors. Cemeteries.

But here is something I realized the other day. The places that are difficult to visit, where nobody really wants to be? I think Jesus is there. I think they may be one of the best places on the planet to find him these days. My friend that I visited the other day knows Jesus in ways that astound me.

I don’t talk much about Jesus anymore. I grew up with him and was told that he loved me, but I listened to a lot of sermons from childhood on through college that said that people who didn’t believe in him the right way ended up in hell.

So I tried to love the guy, and I liked the idea that he loved me, but I was scared of him, too, and (I hate to admit) maybe a little resentful. And I honestly was never confident growing up that we were on good terms with each other, that I was “saved,” because I wasn’t sure that I prayed the salvation prayer correctly (even though I probably prayed it once a week for years, following along with the pastor word for word, when given the chance at the end of his weekly sermon).

I’ve been feeling better about the whole salvation thing for awhile now (not believing in hell anymore was a step in the right direction), but Jesus and I still have things we need to talk about. Apparently, I have a few issues with the way things are going in the world.

The other day I told him, “I’m not so sure that I love you like I’m supposed to. Sometimes I’m not even sure that I liked you very much.”

He said, “Not a problem. I love you anyway and like you just fine.”

Which seems like something that Jesus would actually say. So I think there is hope for me yet.

In its September 7th daily meditation, the Center for Action and Contemplation shared an excerpt from a book by theologian Bruce Epperly. Epperly writes that St Francis “discovered that the glory of God is found in identification with…the most vulnerable people, the poor, disabled… The incarnation means that Christ is one of us, not lording it over like presidents and prelates, but living among the poor and dispossessed.”

Which is why I think I saw Jesus when I was visiting my friend the other day in one of those places where it is not so easy to be. Jesus doesn’t mind hanging out where it is dark and lonely. He loves and is not afraid of our dark (and there is plenty of dark out there now.) Which unfortunately doesn’t mean that he takes away the pain. I wish he did. Instead, he shows up and sits with us in it. And I think he loves and is with us, even if we pray the salvation prayer a million times. Even if we were afraid for years that we prayed it the wrong way. And even if we never pray it at all.