|Tomb of Suphayalat, courtesy of Photobucket.|
Yesterday at Mass, we read the story about Jesus healing the blind man. The priest pointed out that sometimes we are the blind ones, and we think that if we don't look to him, then he can't see us. He even played a game with the children where he had them stand in the aisles with their hands over their eyes trying to walk according to his directions. The point was that it was dark and scary and they didn't know where they were going, but did they think that those of us who could see couldn't see them because their eyes were closed. The kids seemed to get the point. Or at least I did, and that's saying a lot! (Really, I mean to pay attention, but sometimes the priest makes such a great point in his homily that I end up thinking about it during the rest of the homily. Yep. I spend the last fifteen minutes thinking about the first five minutes. I doubt that God minds, since I'm thinking about the sermon anyway, and not how I wish we were going out to lunch instead of having bacon, eggs, and toast at home..)
Where am I going with this? I guess where I'm going is that God doesn't just see the outside of us, the veneer we want shown, but the true us, inside and out. I hope he doesn't find me dead inside, but alive with his Spirit. I truly do. I do love Jesus. I suppose I can only say that honestly because of the Holy Spirit, right?
Come Holy Spirit, fill us (me!) with the fire of your love! (I don't want to be a white washed tomb!)