Baxter has his sensitive spots: under the chin, behind the ear, on the back of his neck. When I scratch these areas, he just begins to purr and purr, his eyes roll back in his head, and he stays still in a trance-like state for a long time. But one spot Baxter would guard carefully from any touch or stroke is his belly. He would jump and run at first, if I tried to get near his soft, white underside. I later read that, unlike dogs, cats’ bellies are very sensitive, and they guard them fiercely. They feel vulnerable there, and they don’t allow anyone near for fear of getting hurt. I knew I had Baxter’s trust and confidence when, after a few years, he would roll over and have me rub his belly while he offered a dreamy purr. We were safe with each other, and he let me know it.
We all have our sensitive spots. I am not talking about places on our bodies, but places in our
lives where we don’t allow just anyone access. These may be cherished memories of good times
now past. These may be feelings of anger and resentment that we fear another will use against us.
These may be failures we recognize but hide from others’ attention and judgment. They may be
treasured mementoes which we think appear cheap and insignificant to others, but hold precious
thoughts and feelings for us. Whatever they may be, these sensitive areas are guarded from others
because we don’t want them abused by public notoriety or exploited for selfish gains. We hold them
in private and keep them secret.
Yet, it is precisely these vulnerable spots in our lives that have the potential to form bonds for
us. Think about it. On formal, official, dressed up occasions at work or for organizations we support, everyone acts properly but the conversation is conventional and staged. “How are you? What are the children doing now? Where are you living, working, vacationing, retiring?” It’s nice talk, for sure, but nothing that matters much for people who may never see each other again. We keep the sensitive subjects off limits because there is no opportunity to follow through with casual acquaintances.
But we need to connect on a deeper level. We need to let someone know what we cherish,
what matters to us, how we feel about our successes and failures, who holds a dear place in our biographies. Trusting another with this kind of information about us connects us in a way that is strong and lasting. We become friends, confidants, soul brothers or sisters.
Trust God with your heart. Let Him into your life’s most sensitive secrets. He listens carefully
and respectfully. He won’t condemn you for your confessions of wrong-doing. He will only forgive
you and help you to be a better, more responsible person in the future. Trust God with your
happy moments as well as your sad ones. He will expand your happiness, and lighten the burden of
your sadness.
Until we become intimate with God, attending Eucharist is a formality we play out each Sunday.
Once we allow God to touch the secret, sensitive parts of our lives, Eucharist becomes a meal
full of divine warmth, gratitude and closeness. He who died on the cross and rose from the dead has nothing to hide. He invites us to touch His wounds and share our wounds with His. He offers us His hopes for a redeemed world and shows us our place in it. He reveals the glory of a life transformed in grace and calls us to the same transformation. If we are open with God, we form a bond with Him that is deeper and more lasting than any human contact we have made.
When God touches our sensitive spots, we don’t purr. We just find peace.
