Love is always as it seems
The train ride has been good. Difficult, but good. People tend to say that love is never as it seems. Perhaps, I too have muttered those words, but it is exactly as it seems.
It is just us that become different. We are never what it seems. I have learned that the ride through the night, talking with the priest. He says the one constant, is Jesus. It is us who change Jesus.
I thought about it for a minute as I sipped on my coke. Some make him black. Some make him white. A hero. A do gooder. Some say he was a liar, a kook. Looking at the evidence, I see only love that poured itself out on the cross. Think on that for a moment that some guy, believed in you so much, crazily, he died to wake you up. He died so you, so I could live. Live as life was meant to be lived. Not with rules and condemnation, but in freedom from fear. Crazy.
Alien terrain moved slowly past the visionary, past the rice fields, past the bombs.
The priest made a good argument. I became tempted to throw him from the train but he is here, like me. Trapped until it is over. An imam stepped up top the conversation to discuss Islam.
“Why can’t I come to?” I had to ask. I knew the answer but I had to ask. Before he answered, the priest says: “Because he is afraid.”
“Of the questions you will ask him.”
“What will I ask?”
“Why does Islam say kill your enemies if they don’t convert, but the Prophet Jesus says to love them?”
I had to admit, that was a pretty good question, but not one I was ready to ask, or at least, didnt think so. The imam looked confused as though coming into our bunk to steal away our friends might not have been the best idea of the day. I looked at him and shrugged. The priest had been drinking a little so who knew where this would go.
When I woke up, the priest, the women, the puppy and the imam were gone. A sun peaked through the blinds of my cabin.
Another day on an eternal train had arrived.