Yesterday for the first time ever I was more late than is usual in the last year for confession. Somehow I found myself reading a post written on social media by a friend. He was describing his struggles and experience of praying the rosary.
I suddenly look at my watch and see that it is 13:55. My confession always takes place at 2pm and as I’m a 15 minute drive from the Church, I know I’m going to be 10 minutes late. Father always waits in the porch with the door open and so I did not want to leave him waiting in the cold. Whilst en route to the Church in the car, I call another priest to notify him of my late arrival and if he could deliver the message.
While going there for the first time ever there was an usual long traffic jam at a set of traffic lights. Thinking in my head the aul devil might be up to his old tricks again, I swing left and decide on another route. After some twisting and turning down this lane and that, I arrive at my destination. I have a picture of the Divine Mercy I need blessed and emerge out of the car with it.
Then I realized I forgot my stupid little mask and have to cross back over the road to get it and a sense of impatience was beginning to grow in me. You see, it was an unusual day for me where I had left almost everything to the last minute. I wanted to cut the grass but upon opening the shed and seeing the mess that was in there, I had to clean it out. It was mostly full of brown empty boxes. I must admit it’s difficult to say no when it comes to hoarding an empty box.
What happened is I ended up calling Father through lunch hour. The maid answers and tells me I’ll have to call back at which some point I do and get organized. When I entered the porch I took a squirt of hand sanitizer and rubbed my hands with it.
As I did, I winced and screamed inside with pain although I didn’t show it because I didn’t want to ruin the silence and break the routine anymore than it was already broken. You see, I had forgotten about the big bloody gash on the palm of my hand I’d taken from the cardboard cut that morning so it took me by surprise.
Father spoke to me about the Gospel he’d read that morning. It was John chapter 6 regarding Jesus walking on water. The disciples take him into the boat but find they’re already at their destination.
“They were willing therefore to take him into the ship; and presently the ship was at the land to which they were going.” John:6:21
There they are out in the midst of the water far from the shore, but as soon as they take Jesus into the boat they find themselves presently at shore. Both Father and I saw the relevance in what he had read and how the timing of Jesus is always perfect, even if it’s not that important to Him.
You see, in the world of the Divine time doesn’t exist. For us it exists and it is important, but not for Heaven which is outside of space and time. As long as we take Jesus into the boat time is irrelevant. No matter where we are headed or how distant we are from our destination, if Jesus is already present in us as far as He is concerned we have reached our destination. My mind was late but my heart was already there.
When you’re next late for an appointment, take Jesus in the boat with you. Maybe your boat is a bicycle, maybe it’s a car, a plane or your heart as it beats fast with every step you take down the road. Whatever mode of travel you choose, if you take Jesus with you, you’re always at your destination.
If not in bodily form at least in spirit because you’ve got Jesus with you, you can never be late. In the eyes of the world you’re a mindless nuisance in need of a new watch, but in heaven where time is irrelevant, God knows you’re already there, and that’s all that counts. All that matters is what the Lord sees, not what the world chooses to focus on.
Happy Sunday to you and God bless.