At His Feet

A few days ago, I did something crazy. Crazier than usual for me, anyhow.

After an overly long day putting together my college's newspaper (which, on an irrelevant note, still isn't done...), I asked my ride home to make a pit stop.

That was how I found myself standing at the back door of my parish thinking, Oh my God, what am I doing?, and then, a minute later, face-to-face with Jesus Christ.

We have a tiny chapel about the size of my computer room off of the main sanctuary at my parish. I've been in there a few times, but never for Adoration. The practice finds its foundation in John 6, where Jesus tells us He will give us His flesh to eat. The whole Bread of Life discourse is why we affirm that He is really, physically present in the bread and wine at Communion. The idea for adoring the Blessed Sacrament comes from St. Matthew's Gospel, where Jesus is praying in the Garden of Gethsemane. The Apostles, who promised to stay up with Him, fall asleep multiple times during this vigil. Seeing this, the Lord asks them, "Can you not keep watch one hour with Me" (verses 36-41)? Adoration is our response to His challenge. As long as the Blessed Sacrament is exposed, someone is there with Him. It's really amazing, and I've felt called for a long time now to be a part of that, if only just once.

It was kind of funny, really--I ended up taking the back entrance to the parish, which opens into the gathering space that I've never once been in, despite being a parishioner there since I was seven. I was completely lost in my own church! I did run into someone who showed me to the chapel, thankfully.

I don't know what I was expecting, but she shut the door behind me, and just like that, I was standing in front of Him. Have you ever unexpectedly run into someone looking a mess? You stand there a bit awkwardly, feeling sheepish and hoping no one notices that your hair's a wreck and your pants have a hole in them.

Honestly, I was kind of unsure about the whole thing, so I just sat in the back pew and knelt to pray. For a while I looked at the exposed Eucharist on the altar, expectant, wanting to feel Him there, but there was nothing. Instead, I buried my head in my hands as I do during Communion, and started talking with God.

Over the next hour, I found myself grappling like a little girl with Him, and was surprised to find His voice answering my tantrums with assurances of love, trust, hope.

When I looked up again, suddenly I was overwhelmed with the depth of both the emotions I was experiencing, and the love He was trying to coax me toward. Not knowing how else to react, I cried openly, despite others being there.

In that short period of time, I realized a lot of things. In Adoration, when you're face-to-face with your Lord, you can't hide behind prayers or pretty words or a facade of happiness. When you're on your knees before Him, you're literally kneeling at the throne of God. There is something both very humbling and nearly terrifying about that.

Somewhere in the midst of that silence, I was thrown on my head. For so long now, I've been petrified of showing any sort of weakness. I've been fighting myself so hard, and Adoration broke down those walls. Instead of finding despondence and depression, though, I found mercy and comfort, much to my surprise. In letting my guard down and letting God in, in letting Him take care of me, I got my hope back.

Jesus said, "I have told you this so that you might have peace in me. In the world you will have trouble, but take courage, I have conquered the world." (John 16:33, NAB)

He has conquered death, and with it, my doubts, my fears, and my hurts. Things may get difficult, but we can have faith in the promises He's made to us, and one of them is that He will never, ever leave us.