i am so jealous of Jesus’ disciples. what i wouldn’t give to hang out with Jesus, to have some coffee or a tall Guinness with him, to laugh with him. i’m not a big fan of praying with my eyes closed and all that stuff. it feels too fake and ritualistic for me. no, in fact, when i “pray”, i actually talk out loud. which is usually why i go to a quiet, people-free place to pray. it feels more real to me, like Jesus is actually with me in person.
when i was in high school and still living at home, i had this special place where i would always go to talk with God. there was a window in the upstairs hallway of my family’s old farmhouse that i would retreat to in the evenings. i opened the window and whispered out into the soft dark air. sometimes i would climb out on the roof beneath the window and just sit there, asking God to speak to me. the weird thing was that he did, in a way, or at least i thought so. a breeze would trickle through my hair, a screech owl would hoot, the moon would drift out from behind the clouds. maybe God wasn’t intentionally answering my prayer. but somehow he was speaking to me, through the chirping crickets, the spring peepers in the creek across the road, the falling stars that i would occasionally see. and somehow, even if i was bothered at first that God wasn’t speaking to me audibly like he did in the Bible, i would still go to bed knowing that God had spoken to me and i knew it by the quiet peace that had settled around my soul during my “talk” with him.
but there are someday that i just want to see him tangibly, to hug him, see his eyes light up when he smiles. i would love to have seen Jesus at a wedding. i’ll bet he was the life of the party.