The Instruction

Instructions.

Sometimes they are frightening. Sometimes they bring about worries. Sometimes they bring about excitement. Sometimes they bring about fortune and luck.

I could still remember one time when after my prayer I was inspired by an instruction to go to this church. The instruction was to tell the priest in that church this message: “Jesus says, He likes your church.”

To someone, perhaps, they would say this is an illusion; I mean the instruction. To some, perhaps, they would say I must be dreaming; one friend told me that, too. To some, perhaps, they would say I must be crazy; that, too, I hear. But there is always no harm in trying to obey an instruction after a deep prayer.

So I went to that church even though I had some hesitations in my mind since I did not know the priest. Moreover, I have not been to that church at mass or church events. But because I wanted to follow the instruction, so off I went.

The church was indeed very nice. It was very clean. It was newly renovated. The floor tiles were obviously new. And to my surprise, unlike all the other churches whose doors or iron gates are closed, this church’s door was open. People were there, praying. The candles were lit. This church is indeed different.

I asked for the whereabouts of the priest. The priest was still having his breakfast in the church convent. So I waited at the door entrance to make sure that he would not slip me by. The church aide told me that the priest was hurrying up to go to his next appointment. So I waited for the priest to come down from the convent. I could see the priest’s car which was already very spotlessly clean. The engine was already running.

I could hear footsteps from the staircase of the convent. There! I told myself, “This is the moment of truth. Are you ready?” And there he was. He was indeed in a rush. So I summoned all my courage and greeted the priest. “Good morning, Father!” Then the priest, without looking sideways towards me, just waved his hand as if dismissing me. He was in a hurry. I completely understood the haste.

I insisted and said, “Father, this will only be short.” Still, the priest seemed determined not to take notice of me. I had the impression that he was afraid that I may be asking for some sort of help. Probably, he had been used to talking to people asking for help. So he was already in the act of opening his car and I was hopeless. I must deliver the instruction.

So I shouted, “Father, I just want to tell you that Jesus said, ‘He likes your church!'”

The priest stopped. For the first time he looked at me. But this time, this time, this time, like evading eternity, it was my time to turn away like a flash of lightning. I hastened and bid goodbye to the priest. I did not want him to remember my face. I hid my face. I just wanted him to remember The Instruction.

That was quite a suspenseful experience for me. Who would have thought that someone so ordinary, someone dressed ordinarily would deliver an important message? A message that that affirms the priest and whatever he had done for the church!

Back then I did not know why I was inspired to deliver The Instruction. I thought I was just an instrument to boost the morale of the priest and to recognize his good works.

But now I realize this.

It was a learning experience for me. My prayer led me to deliver that instruction. I was taught how to obey clear instructions from Jesus. It was a test of my ability to listen, to obey, to have courage to be humble and the willingness to be ignored and misunderstood.

Jesus speaks in our prayers. But sadly, many times, though, I failed to hear His voice because I was too busily seeking for Him in the wrong places. He remains unmoved in the candle-lit corner of the inner room in my heart.

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