Dear Love,
Not made of the best of thread,
No fancy glitter, no beads,
Just a body, no head,
But used by many both rich and poor,
Important yet my journey ends in a sewer
Dung, spit, tears, spillage,
times like these, I am pulled out of my cage,
I show no bias, no discrimination,
Superior is no caste, no creed,
no sect, no faction,
All equal no special attention
Saw tears of joy, also of distress,
Cake icing stains on birthday dress,
Open wounds, profuse sweating in times of stress,
Wipe all of them, absorbed all the mess,
Yet I never vaunted my potential or worth,
But silently I observe every tale, every mirth.
Your love works just like me,
Not parading but working quietly,
Wiping every tear, patiently,
No difference in any skin You see,
Love that does not focus on superiority,
Love that is important but sometimes not given priority,
Love that is sought after only in times of need,
And then, thrown away like the leaves of tea,
Which after infusion is strained out,
But despite all this Your love reaches out,
Unconditional, unstoppable,
With no expectations or doubt,
Love,
The tissue paper
Footnotes:
Last year I met a family—father, mother and son—who were going through a crisis. The woman had regular epileptic attacks but there was no medical evidence to back it up or even prescribe medicines. As couple began talking to us, they bragged about the number of pastors and prophets they visited over the course of two years. They even went on to describe the amount of money and time they spent. The son was forced to take baptism so that the mother gets healed. I was in shock and, to be honest, disgusted. Shocked because of their ignorance and disgusted, because of their shallowness. Surely, desperate times call for desperate measures but this was heights of desperation.
I went to ask the son whether he was happy. “Anything for my mother!” he said. “Do you completely consider Jesus as your Lord and Saviour?” I asked him again. “If it heals my mother, Yes!” he said. The “it” in his sentence sort of ticked me off and I had no desire to converse further. For them, Jesus was someone they call out to and turn to ONLY in times of trouble—when there is a need. And according to them, the number of pastors they visited, or the money they put as tithe, puts them on top of God’s list of ‘who to deliver’. Shame! Spiritual pride of sorts.
Often times, Christians tend to forget to understand the crux of their faith and instead flaunt their spirituality based on worldly parameters. To be blunt, sometimes there is no Christ in Christianity, just mere ritualistic practices and a lot of money culture. And the worst part is that, Christians are proud of it.
I often wonder—“What are the churches teaching?” Are they teaching people to run to Jesus only when they need help? And once deliverance is received, the Deliverer is forgotten. And thus, begins gloats of the many prayers they prayed, the many sermons they heard, the many days they fasted and not to forget, the many pastors they visited.
This brings me the analogy of the humble tissue paper. Fitting, I’d say, in this context. The tissue paper neither gloats in its appearance nor does it hesitate when it comes to the filthiest of things. It silently performs its tasks without looking at race, caste, gender, size or age. It wipes off tears, dung, spit, dirt, dust and so much more. Just like the tissue, Jesus wipes off dirt, dust and bloody wounds. He never looked at where we came from, what we did and what we didn’t. The tissue paper is present, almost every day of our lives but how often do we appreciate it. We use it when we need it, we think about it when we need it and once the use is over, it is thrown away. “Is God to be treated that way?” or rather, “Are we treating Him that way?”
Maybe yes, maybe no, but one thing that I want you to remember is that God’s love is going to remain constant no matter what you do. God does not look at how much you tithe or how many hours your prayed—He delivers you because He loves you. You might have whispered a small prayer instead of fasting for days or crying out loud—He knows the groanings of your heart. You might have just sighed, saying Jesus—He sees and knows your pain. You might have just stayed silent—He still speaks peace over you. And even if you forget Him—He is always there to your rescue.