I miss Jesus

Not where I thought this Monday was going

Today I was in class when someone mentioned the name of Jesus, and suddenly I could feel the tears filling my eyes. I am always aware of when something brings me to tears because I am committed to the continuous practice of listening to my body.

Long ago I used to be afraid of tears, but these days I let them speak to me. I silently listened to my body and the first phrase that came up was, “I miss Jesus.”

Whew!

There was once a time in my life when I not only worshiped Jesus, I adored him. It wasn’t hard to use the words like, King, the Rose of Sharon, “who is this king of glory?”, prince of peace, and I could go on. Jesus was the lover of my soul.

I didn’t expect to go to a class about the psychology and theology of fundamentalism and leave thinking about the ways my relationship with Jesus has changed, but I should’ve known, really.

There was something so innocent about the ways I adored Jesus, and yet, so many of those days were filled with shame and guilt.

I remember my younger days as a teen grappling with living as an undocumented person in the U.S and how I hid my social location from my friends. I spent so much of that time hiding, except, when I was with Jesus.

There was nothing to hide from Jesus. As I got older I even explored the ways in which maybe a teenager Jesus also questioned God while living under the Roman empire. I thought of the ways in which Jesus spoke and lived compared to the ways in which Paul spoke and lived. Jesus wasn’t a Roman citizen but Paul was, and I think that matters. I hope to one day expand more on these thoughts.

I also have to wonder what it’s like to need citizenship from an empire to survive?

Jesus, the lover of my soul and dearest friend. Jesus who introduced me to Womanist theology through the story of the God who sees, Jesus who held all my tears.

God, do I miss him. And I hope that wherever he is he knows I have not forgotten him.

Taking a break from friendships is not easy, but this is what I need to do these days. I cannot forget him, and I know I will not forget him. Maybe there’s no more adoration, but there is a longing to one day hold his hand again, and that is enough for today.