I thought I have already been transparent with Jesus. After all those tears, ecstatic exchange and resolutions, I never thought that I still kept something from him.
One of my favorite biblical texts is Matthew's story of the Agony of Jesus at the Garden of Gethsemane. I like to meditate on it, offering to accompany him in this heartbreaking moment of his life, to cry with him, to share his suffering, etc.
Then, in my month long retreat, I got stuck on this very text. I didn't want to let him go, to let him die. I just wanted him to stay close to me. Then came my fears, the reality. It's been almost a decade since my papa passed away. Gethsemane night triggers my holding on to my pain, of not wanting to let go of it.
It took me some time to accept the reality in me. My newfound love for God seems to have made sense and gave meaning to my life. But then, what I was doing was actually filling in some empty space motivated by desires with wrong motivations. My love was possessive in the sense that I don't want to feel the insecurities and pains consequent from the departure of a person so dear to me.
But it was a stroke of grace when I came to accept and embrace the truth. I was then so alone and have lost the very person who have seen and accepted me as I really am. I was then in need of someone to fill up his place. At that moment, I stongly felt that Jesus' death would again destroy the "consolation" of having another one to love me. But then, it was only through his suffering, death and resurrection that Jesus could fully give himself to me and I could fully, in the truest sense, receive him in my life. He was inviting me to surrender that which binds me. With this, I was able to accept the truth of my self which was sub/unconsciously masked by my supposedly "ascending" love for God, let go of its "pseudo"ness and welcome in the "descending" love of God. If I wish to give love, I must also receive love [paraphrased from Deus Caritas Est].
Such acceptance of the reality, of my needs brought me to the core of my sinfulness, my filthiness, my masks, my poverty. It helped me see what have I done, how I have hurt God by the very things that I did to my life and those of others and also, how I have hurt myself in the process.
I just spent the whole three prayer periods crying and thanking God for his great, great love for me. By his death, I have been spirited to die to myself and his resurrection brought me back to the real joy of my real being, His Beloved Child. I am still a weakling [I accept that I am sometimes childish] that grace empowered me to overcome sin and my human tendencies. Jesus is love incarnate and his being so made His love the spring where I drew forth the love I need to love myself, Him and others. And contemplatng His Words and Deeds nourishes my faith from being a personal gift to a gift to his church, his people.
