Alright folks. Time for me to get all philosophical on you. If you’re reading this, chances are you’re alive. At least physically alive. Chances are also, that your soul died several years ago. You’ve experienced death, you just didn’t know it.
During last Sunday’s mass I heard our priest say something that really got my attention: He said (quoting someone; I can’t remember who exactly) that some folks die at 25 and aren’t buried until they’re 70 or 80. He went on to explain that in everyone’s life there’s a defining moment; an event (or series of events) that causes you such trauma that from that moment on your soul is dead and only your body goes on living til it’s time to be put to rest. I know this all sounds very dramatic and yes, even downright depressing but I’m convinced that for you to experience the salvation Jesus Christ can bring into your life it is extremely necessary to remove the veil that has been cast upon us and turned us blind to our own suffering, so we can then identify what it is exactly that killed us all those years ago.
For me it was a couple of events that together ended my innocence; oh, I don’t know, some 35 years ago. I was probably ten and I had just gotten this super cool skateboard as a gift from my parents. I can clearly remember the wooden board with some sort of green anti-slippery material on its surface and its bright orange rubber wheels. I was going to have so much fun with that skateboard. But the first afternoon I took it out for a spin, a white Volkswagen Beetle pulled up next to me as a 20-something-year old girl sitting on the passenger’s seat asked nicely if she could take a look at my skateboard. I was naive enough to hand it to her, and just as I did she smiled, turned to the driver and softly said “let’s go”. Away they sped with my precious skateboard as I ran behind them, crying; begging for them to return what was mine. End of my innocence part I.
The other cause of my spiritual death happened right around that time but it left much deeper, hurtful scars. One fine afternoon I happened to be reading right outside my parents’ room when I clearly heard my dad talking on the phone to someone with whom he wanted to meet; this time in a different hotel. The rest of the conversation only confirmed my suspicions. My dad was cheating on my mom. My dad was having an affair with some woman. To this day there’s been only one person I’ve shared this with and that person is of course, my dear Wifey.
Our darkest hour is right before the sun comes up, they say
Time, and my Savior Jesus Christ have done all the healing. It’s all forgiven, I would like to think, so now I only hope and pray that I don’t turn out to be the reason my own kids experience some sort of ontological death later on in their lives, although chances are I will.
I guess that’s enough ‘fessing up for one day. It’s your turn. How old were you when you died? Do you admit that something in your life has killed you and that you’re in bad need of redemption? In bad need of resurrection?
Image: Light after Darkness by Jhong Dizon on a Creative Commons license.