That Place

 

When I went up the stairs, there was a queue in front of the hall entrance for checking the registration. I queued, like others, and vaguely heard of someone's voice that I found familiar. Two girls were chatting and going up the stair, queued behind me, and apparently they didn't recognize me who once spent four years with them here. I turned myself facing the door so that my back faced them to avoid such an awkward moment. 

You may wonder why I was there if the situation was such unpleasant? I was attending a marriage ceremony of a friend who I treat as a younger brother. Although when I left that place four years ago, he, just liked the others, didn't contact me or stepped into my gloomy life, he finally contacted me a few months ago and invited me for a dinner in his home with some people who met there. Some of them I like very much even though they didn't ever reach me after I left, still, I remember the chatting times between me and them. And I still am interested in their lives, although now I have to gather such information through social media.  

I found a seat on the left side and back of the hall. I sat. Looking at the cross at the central hall, hanging on the wall, a big golden metallic cross among colorful motif glass windows through where the sunlight passes and lightens up the place, I had a feeling of familiarity. The piano started playing notes, they sang, I sang as I did in the sermons many times. A drop of tear rush to the eye without my expectation as I didn't cry for a long time and calmness is my trademark. All the things I gave up, all the wounds I intended to heal, seem to have no meaning at all as all the effort reached no end. I thought some wounds had been healed but I realized that it was just my deliberate neglect. The cross, where Christ died for the cleansing sin of humans, reminded me of the salvation He promised so.

Pastor W, one of few people I like getting along in that place, was giving a speech advising the new couple how to maintain the marriage in the future. He said, "There is hardship in marriage which you will meet soon, it is not a happily ever after story." He stopped a while, speaking like a kind old grandpa, "And that was time love of God come to play." An assertive statement lured you to believe without doubting. It is not the first time I heard of his teaching about marriage, I went so many before, but this was the first time I thought maybe marriage was not something I desired. I was scared because I fully understood how am I. I slightly looked around, ensured my movement was not disturbing, trying to locate familiar faces. It was easy to spot them because they always sat together, as a clan. They had no changes, same body shape and hairstyle. Some of them were listening attentively, some were chatting and some were scrolling the mobile, and it seemed that none of them recognized me even though my outlook had no change at all. Have you ever once bumped into a friend, who you haven't met for a long time, and still recognized his/her voice? I did a few times, but many times they just kept on walking even I kept a few seconds staring at them. There is a strange feeling in these kinds of encounters since all you memorized about them seemed not to be real. Like you created your own experience and time in your tiny little head and you lived in it. You didn't distinguish if the world you are in is real. But on second thought, I didn't have any clue to prove the realness of the world I was in. Maybe it was a lucid dream on a hot summer afternoon, maybe I was waiting for the alarm clock waking me up.

I realized I have drifted a bit so I focused back on Pastor W. He took out two rocks and said to the couple, "You two are like the rocks, with sharp corners and rough surfaces. When you are mixed together, your sharpness hurts each other. However, eventually, your corner will erase the angels of another rock, making both of you round." He reminded me how sharp and rough was I. Just like everyone, I once was young when I was reckless and self-centered. When I got older, sometimes, I did recall what happened in the past and usually evaluated myself as selfish after noticing the current situation. I believed I had hurt many people. I was too direct, too blunt, too critical even becomes mean in some senses. Even now, I may be still hurting others without awareness. The problem is I cannot control what I react to other behaviors and words, and interpret their emotion and intentions accurately. 

"The smoothing process is difficult and painful but there are always pains in love and there is no love without pain...", the pastor spoke. His words echoed in my mind that I lost track again. I always find a contradiction in the act of love: If love accompanies pain, why should I/We love? I tried to recall the time when I was happy, eating a late supper cooked by my mother when I came home late, the jokes and interactions I had with my friends, or a short chatting with a stranger encountered during vacation traveling. I was happy but I confessed that I didn't feel being loved or I was loving. If a perfect stone would be formed after suffering, my suffering would shape me into a perfect person. Was I wrong that I didn't endure the loneliness and rejection, and left the place? Did I love too much, too deep? Or did I not love enough? If I stayed, would I grow into a different person? Again, I thought about what would happen if I left the place. Maybe a better one or a crushed one.

"...There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love. We love because he first loved us. [1]" He quoted from the scripture. "We don't know how to love but God knows. He loves us so much that he sent Jesus to Earth and died for us. Therefore, always grip tightly on the grace and love of God. Let's us pray..." Whenever a service is near the end, pastors pray with us. It recalled my memory of my servicing at that place. On some busiest days, I went here three times a week at night after works and the Sunday morning sermon. I tried different positions and met a lot of people. But what lingered on my mind was the many times I sat alone on a bench or a chair and people around me were forming different small circles and talking happily, after the end of preying.

"Father, thank you for your love and grace. You sent Jesus to us and died for us. We know how sinful we are but your grace saved us. We don't know how to love, but you demonstrated to us how to love. Thank you. In the name of Jesus. Amen..."

Footnote

[1] 1 John 4:18-19 NIV