I wrote this last year and came across it again today. I needed it today, and maybe you did, too.
Sometimes when I lay in bed, all I can do is look at the image of the Sacred Heart on the wall by my pillow.
C.S. Lewis once concluded, after a struggle with God's apparent silence: "I see now, Lord, why you utter no answer. You yourself are the answer ... What other answer would suffice?"
I have been getting to know Jesus for several years now, and really, since the beginning of my life -- this "logos" of God, the living logic of the cosmos, through whom all things were made and for whom human hearts were formed. All good things which come to man pass through his will, and all agonies which befall men find their place, first, in his wounds.
Much has been written about this inexhaustibly mysterious figure from Nazareth, and at the same time, little can be said. We will inevitably find that the Word which is the origin of all things cannot be contained by poems or theories or songs.
But he comes to dwell in human hearts. Incomprehensible love makes himself fathomable to the senses -- first in audible cries from a soft and messy face, with tiny hands tightly wound around the fingers of his mother. He touched the untouchables, he interacted with outcasts, and he cried and laughed and sang and ran and danced.
This humble stranger in the streets was the singular utterance of the Father -- a response to the human question which words cannot adequately answer. He dwells in silence because sound will not suffice.
As if to say "Take everything I have," God hands over his Son. But even these words are not enough. Only one Word is enough. The question then becomes: what does this answer mean?
