I sought Jesus in the mainstream of life: Its commerce carrying me along with humanity in a pursuit of ordained acquisition which only numbed the spirit as we jammed ourselves into belted commutings. One morning I awoke from the stupor of cable flicker and realized I would not find Him there.

I sought Jesus by fleeing the city for the pure essence of the natural expanse: The golden fields of grain with their uniformity of being ordained by chemical infusions, the vast sea of the prairies where I saw the hawk swoop down upon its quarry, the islands of rock lifting up to the sky where the mountain cat preys in the same selfish way, then turned my eyes to the Cathedral of the Heavens as I saw He wasn't here, as well.

I sought Jesus in the country chapel of simple working folks; but they feared my seeking ways as a trouble-making effort. They asked me of my politics, my ethnic heritage, then informed me I would be better off worshipping at another distant village. So I sought, in apprehension, a guru's special message; but the transcendental journey was to commune with self where I knew I couldn't find Jesus.

I sought Jesus by returning to a place of spiritual presence, entered the cathedral portico and sought sanctuary in its essence. All around the light shone through in a rainbow of mosaic halo which accentuated the icons of righteous piety and berobed representatives. I asked where to find Him and was told within my heart; but that didn't help since it was from my heart I originally began my search. I was given the stuff of flagellation to purify my soul and asked to fill the basket; perhaps to pay my way from Hell. The icons began to melt in place as the stained glass bled in metaphor; and I remembered it was those robes of religion which had led Him to the cross.

I sought Jesus by fleeing from myself and the search for enlightenment. I threw myself into the gutter and waited for my destruction. Nowhere was He to be found; were the evolutionists correct, was Religion but the opiate which kept us all in place? When the time was right, He found me there starved and frozen and offered me His coat. When I refused to take it, Compassion laid it on me anyway in the person of His expression. Then He took me in and fed me till I was again fit to search, and led me to disaster to teach me of Himself.

I found Him in the clinics where AIDS is Leprosy to the righteous who lack Him, but opportunity to Believers offering selfless hugs of Compassion. I found Him in Oklahoma and Turkey and Pakistan, where tornado, earthquake, and ethnic strife provides opportunity for the test of Jesusness: The façade of false reality torn by winds of caprice, the Earth shaking as Christian Greeks serve Moslem Turks to give a better view of the Carpenter who taught The Way and gave Himself for it to teach us what we all seem to have forgotten — except in Pakistan.

I found Him knocking at my door, as expressed in Revelation: When I thought myself of Philadelphia, I was actually Laodicean — rich and filled and dressed to style and convinced I knew the way; but He finally got my attention and came into me that day. All the while I was seeking Him I was walking in my sleep; but I finally awakened to His knocking and let Him in to sup on how He was really seeking me.

© 2000 Wil Hough