It’s me, the man you know so well. I don’t talk to you much, but I sure do see you a lot. Everyday, I catch a glimpse of you in the mirror. Every hour, I hear you scratching at my door. Every second, your thoughts chew in my head.
Do you chase everyone like you chase me? Am I really that important to you? Do you want me so much you’ll try anything and never give up?
I wonder if you do this because I lead you on so. I do let you in at times. I do return your catching glance. I admit it freely. But make no mistake, you and I are at war. For even though at times I call you my friend, I am not proud of those moments. They capture me at my weakest, my most shameful, my ugliest.
Do I love you? No, for even though I am commanded to love my neighbor and even thought I see you in my neighbor, you are too distant to be my neighbor. Do I hate you? No, for hate would give you power, and power is something you have plenty of. Do I feel sorry for you? Yes, for I know even you could rest in peace if you took the warm embrace of our Father’s arms.
I am sure we’ll be seeing each other again, very soon. Just so you know, I’ll be the one fighting to turn away from your glance, and though you may catch it for a moment, you will find yourself holding something you cannot keep—my soul.
In Christ’s name I pray,
— James is a porter. He helps people carry their loads along life’s journey. He is author of the All Star Press book “Quiet Spaces: Hearing God’s Call in a Noisy World.”