“They were so terrified, they said nothing to anyone…” There it is; right in the Gospel of Mark in reference to the women at the tomb of Jesus. That pretty much sums up my entire history of public interaction when the topic is religion. Jesus told us what would happen. Persecution comes with the territory, especially in this day and age. Even when I know something is true, or right, or good, I don’t lend my voice. On the flip side, when something is wrong, or dark, or evil, I am also hesitant to speak up out of fear.
I went tonight to a live theatrical presentation of the Gospel of Mark. It was a solo performance by a young priest (I say young, though he said he’s been doing this for twenty years, so he’s roughly my age or maybe a little older). He was taking questions during the intermission and I started to raise my hand to ask what prompted him to start performing this Gospel. He did not see my hand raised, but I realized that I don’t need to ask. I already knew.
He started for the same reason that the Gospels were written in the first place. He was inspired to spread the Word of God. It’s that simple and that complicated. Whatever the catalyst was, whatever planted that seed in rich soil, it was the same. To perform the Gospel the way he does, he has to love the Word. It was less of a performance than a proclamation. His job is to spread that seed where it may fall and let God do the rest.
I was moved within me. The experience was beyond words; indeed, none do it justice. “Let those who have ears hear.” Jesus knew human emotions. He wept, he was angry, he was filled with love. I can’t imagine that he would have been without anguish at his journey as it drew closer to the cross. He also knew to his Soul that God, Abba, Father would not leave him. Trust through His journey, and I’m worried about what people think? Maybe I should worry less and trust more.
Of course, we could all use a bit of perspective here. Through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus, we were brought into His Kingdom. Adopted. Yes, having been a part of adoptions in multiple ways, I can attest that it is a beautiful comparison of them to our relationship to God. He loves us unconditionally and we are tasked with the same. With that powerful love, why should any of us fear to speak? In fact, how are we not crying out with joy? When moved by the Gospel, why are we not glorying in the revelation that we are adopted sons and daughters of the Most High? In what universe is fear stronger than God?
I have been witness multiple times to knowledge of the presence of God. Slowly, I have begun to tell bits and pieces of my story, and only to some people. Possibly I had to wait for the words to come and those with ears to hear. It was written that when the time is right, do not fear to let the words come. Preaching on the street corner is not my thing, but neither should I argue with those not willing to listen. Paths, rocks, thorns, and shallow ground are not the place to plant. I am gifted with words, but also with the understanding that those words should mean something. So I wait for the time and I wait for the ears to hear. Above all, when I am so terrified that I am tempted to stay my tongue, I must trust Abba and remember that all things are possible with God. Maybe, just maybe, the soil is ready for a seed and God is ready to do the rest.