We moved to Barcelona in 1998, over 13 years ago. I am here now, in our old neighborhood, by our old metro stop, Clot on the purple line.
At the time, we had been married seven years and we would still face one of our most difficult seasons of marriage. I remember some time in our first year of life here in Barcelona…lying awake in bed one night…existential angst…wondering if this whole “God thing” was real…really wondering…thinking to myself, “What if we’re all wrong? What if Jesus didn’t rise from the dead? What if it’s all just a big lie? A big hoax?”
I was on staff at a church at that point so, of course, these questions carried no small weight. Pastors can be atheists, too.
Because of the deep-seated nature of the questions, I felt I didn’t have anyone to turn to….I couldn’t turn to the people in our church…What would they think? I couldn’t turn to you, my love…I didn’t want to burden you with my anxiety. So, I closed off. That seemed safer.
The “closing off” was a bad idea. I see that now and I saw that back then…when you finally snapped me out of it and picked a fight with me. Thank you for fighting.
I could see then and I can see it now: God is real because I see him in your eyes, my love. Jesus is risen; he is in your smile, dear one. His arms stretched out on the cross in love will be your embrace tomorrow night. His voice in your voice, his touch in your hand, his path in your feet. Let me never stray from you again. These days we’ve been apart are as saints waiting in hope for heaven. Tomorrow: shalom when we shall be together in body again.
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