A gavel is struck three times. Heavy thumps against wood, silencing the crowd seated behind the two tables. They now whisper amongst themselves, an ocean of murmured conversations. A woman, or a man, is seated up top dressed in a judge’s black robe.
“Order, order, order!”
You are seated at the defendant’s table, alone. The judge says a few words, introducing everyone to your case. To your right is the table of the prosecutor. He stands and walks to the front, summoning someone from your side. A figure that had not been there a second ago, gets up and takes a few small steps. They stand side by side for a moment.
“Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?
He raises his right hand and there is a faint scar etched onto a patch of skin. An outline of a hole small enough for a nail to be pushed through.
“I do.”
The Truth
You are loved infinitely.
When I was in grade seven, I believed that God’s love depended entirely on my love for Him. Whenever I did something kind, like giving change to the homeless man outside of Walmart, or helping a classmate with homework due the next day, I felt as if I were on His ‘good side’. On the contrary, if I did something not so kind, like lying to my parents about where I was going after school, or swearing with my friends just to fit in, I lived life a little more carefully, always looking over my shoulder, waiting for something to happen.
During this time in my life I believed that all of my actions, both good and bad, would return to me in some form—one way or another. Karma was not only real, but also very near. And God would unleash tenfold of what I’d done in a majestic and heavenly, “I told you so.”
It was only when I received the sacrament of Confirmation, attended Saint Matthew’s My Seven From Heaven Retreat, and East 2’s Camp Exalted, that I realized how wrong I was. These events and the number of genuine friendships I made during that year reminded me of just how vast God’s love is and continues to be.
A love not dependent on our victories and our failures, our humanity: a love that is unconditional and infinite, withstanding all of our pain and all of our joy: the goodness we show and the sinfulness we may hide. The whole emotional range of the human experience, God felt it Himself when He sent His only son to live with us, and die for us. His love endures all of our doubts and fears, and He never hesitates to remind us of who He is, and what exactly He can do.
He was there for me when I came down with a fever in the middle of the True North Conference held in Vancouver that year, there for me when I was sick on the couch for three days straight. He came in the form of a smile holding a bowl of freshly-made sopas, a gentle hand against my forehead, checking my temperature.
The Lord never forgets the one whom He loves. And His love is not a flicker but a flame, constantly growing the more it is tended to.
The Whole Truth
You are loved intimately.
The tenth grade is infamous for being the ‘struggle year’ of high school, and I experienced its effects first-hand. Though I showed up to school everyday, talked to my friends, completed my assignments, I didn’t feel as if I were truly there. I felt more like a shell of someone who used to be, a ghost in a world where he did not belong. Hiding from something, retreating into his thoughts and trying to close the gaps between the person he was then and the person he wanted to become, but didn’t.
Since making the eighth grade basketball team, I had always wanted to play in the BC Catholics. My friend had even written in my yearbook, “5 years of being teammates?” One coach, missed practices, and a few games where I didn’t even get the chance to play were enough to cut that dream short. I felt that I had let my friend down.
I also told my parents that I would become a nurse, and save up enough money so that they could retire early, and travel, do whatever they wanted to do as a reward for raising me to be the person I was becoming: someone who they could be proud of. Then I received a 68 in Chemistry, a low B in Precalculus. Fortunately, my parents were gracious, and said that they would support me no matter what I chose to do. But at that point in time, all I wanted to do was make them proud. And I felt that I had failed.
Then my trips to the school chapel became more frequent. I would spend my entire break there, alone, sitting in silence, at times not even praying because I just wasn’t sure on what to say. To an extent, I felt that I had let God down, too. The responsibilities and dreams I had been given were too much, the cross He had given me, too heavy. How could He choose to love someone unable to carry their cross? A person who fell more often than he rose? Someone who felt like he had become nothing close to the person he had been created to be?
And God answered me with silence. He kept quiet, knowing that words would not be enough to soothe the pain I felt. He spoke to me through the subtle tugs in my heart after morning class, urging me to pay a visit to the place where I felt most at peace. And so I continued to go to the chapel, now growing comfortable with that silence. A quietness of the soul that opened myself up to the things I could not see, and His voice that I could not hear.
Amidst this storm of my life, I echoed the words of Saint Peter, telling Him “Lord, if it’s you, tell me to come to you on the water.” He invited me with His presence, and comforted me in it. In that chapel, I felt the tender intimacy of God’s love, and how He used silence to affirm the efforts of my tired, and human heart. A vessel not only made to give love, but also to receive it.
He sat beside me, listened to my thoughts, experienced my suffering, and with every chapel session, helped me learn to let it all go. Reminding me that It was in His hands now, that it had always been in His hands.
Nothing But The Truth
You are loved personally.
After my first semester of university, I was blessed with the opportunity to travel to the Philippines with my family. Though I initially struggled with the culture shock, the time zone difference, and the language barrier, God had given me my own personal retreat.
Prior to the trip, I had been in the midst of a difficult period in my life: dealing with the aftermath of final exams, coping with strained friendships, and heading towards a new and uncertain year. This vacation offered me an escape from the pain that these things caused. I thought that maybe with the distance and the time, I would forget about my sadness, pick up some new experiences along the way, and by the end of the trip, become a new person: free of all the baggage and hurt left behind in my wake.
Still God was God wherever I went, and whomever I was. He accompanied me to the Philippines, revealing Himself through the faces of my relatives, the priests of the masses I attended, the workers in Jollibee, the two waiters singing Buwan during their shift, the fields of green in the province, the laughing children playing a game in the middle of the street, the warm afternoon sunshine, the blueness of the ocean, and the softness of the sand on the beach against my toes. The utter beauty of the Philippines was God saying to me, “Hey! I still love you, you know?”
Whenever I saw something beautiful in His creation, either through nature or another person, I realized that I was only seeing a glimpse of God’s image from within me: a reflection of the beauty that I already carried inside.
The truth is that you and I have been loved since the very moment God first thought about us. And in that brief moment, in that infinite, intimate and personal love, He loves us now just the same.
The Verdict
Finally, your trial has ended. The voices dissolve into silence until all you hear are soft footsteps heading in your direction. He offers a hand and you take it, walking out of the courtroom together. He sits down with you on a bench and gives you time to collect yourself.
This man is patient, and kind, He gives you all the time you need. Eventually, you thank Him and apologize for the trouble. He smiles and laughs in a way that makes you feel like you’re with an old friend. But this man has always been here, and this is not your first time on this bench.
Though you still feel guilty, He assures you with a hand on your shoulder that your guilt does not define who you are, and neither does your shame. What defines you are not your faults but your title as His child, His friend, and His beloved.
The piece of Himself that He placed within you when you were created makes you forever worthy of all the love that He gives.
He will remind you of this as many times as it takes for you to understand.
And if you were to understand yet still find a way to forget, He would come back and love you with the same love as the day you thought He had left. A deep and intense love that St. Thérèse of Lisieux describes in a letter to her cousin, Marie.
“But on whom shall our poor heart lavish its love? Who shall be found that is great enough to be the recipient of our treasures? Will a human being know how to comprehend them, and above all will he be able to repay? There exists but one Being capable of comprehending love; it is Jesus; He alone can give us back infinitely more than we shall ever give to him.”
Rave Quidasol – Brother Youth Communications Press Head | CFC-Youth Pacific Region
