Turning back to God (Part one)

Turning back to God (Part one)

I wish I had had breakfast at home. Before I entered the cybercafé I overheard an ambulant street seller offering a stick memory a couple of teenagers who left that shop I came to check my emails. I approached to ask that man a confirmation of what I had listened and then I read on the packet, and vaguely saw its content.

-This isn´t a stick memory –I said- but a card reader instead.

-How do you know it? –the man asked doubtful.

-I know it because I read those words in English! –I replied, pointing at them.

Meanwhile I checked one of the two packages he had, that man quickly added trying to convince me.

-I´m selling it low-priced because someone sold them to me in a good bargain. He stole them at the place where he works and that´s way you could have one too cheap now.

-They only serve to read SD card memories; yet they could function as a stick memory if they had inside one of those SD cards mobile telephones use as a backup…

As soon as I could, I separated from him to walk my way. I said nothing else avoiding discouraging that spontaneous “honest” transparency that man showed at telling me he was hawking with anything stolen. If he lied to lure me to buy, he plainly lied then. If it wasn´t a “business” confession, but a naïve granted revelation of the things I don´t like to be cursed (from the people I can´t like) I won´t be screwed up in their own faults and, if I had enough money to buy me useful things, do you think I would buy stolen goods instead of the food I need daily? 

I have been there! I coveted and stole. I envied and robbed, but I don´t want the rest of my life damned at any corner I would walk. (Deut. 28:16)

At this time I´m proud of nothing. I have lived enough and if I could live any longer I wish the world could be quickly changed to be better and, in the underground, it is actually changing.

I have stubbornly wanted God (Hashem) talked to me audibly, however He has sovereignly desired to talk to me with unworkable examples, with living deeds and not with an uttered voice I heard (I could be scared). These days I have fought against my own life, dreams, and against this human stubbornness I mentioned during a lengthy process to understand this is tiresome and frustrating: I can´t add an inch to my stature! (Mat 6:27). I am fed when no food is left. I am helped when no hope looked around, as if I was forced to depend on Him when all my disadvantaged resources seem exhausted or blocked by the sociopolitical hindrances you´ll find in the dull environment of a communist country.

Unexpected replies

Two days ago I met a young lady I have liked at first sight several years ago. Perhaps you are able to have your own hunches and a particular discernment to know -or guess- who the people are. I always have seen her too far from my reach, too far from my personal self-imposed limits, so I have looked at that woman at a prudent emotional distance.

That day she was not the same I used to see almost open-mouthed. As a matter of facts, I can assure I´m not the only man who stared at her jawed: She looked like a model, and now she is modeled by God.

Nothing to brag about

I´m not fond of fasting –I left those religious practices- and these days I´m obliged (or forced) to fast. Trying to understand the things I´m witnessing (or guessing) the moment I met that ambulant street seller mentioned above I lacked the money to buy food, but I believed I needed to check my email account to see if a profitable answer had arrived to work on but, when you fast unexpected answers (or temptations) come as you would walk off your feet sometimes. I´m thankful God permitted me to discern that man was hawking dishonestly. If I was that fool, if I had enough money and the compulsive need to buy stolen things I would have failed like any sinner. And here there´s nothing to boast!  There is nothing to brag religiously on these lines but the intention to leave a written record of the things I tend to forget or do, because if I had fallen in buying stole things, unpredictable consequences might have reached me as curses I do know: “…with the measure you use, it will be measured to you, and still more will be added to you.” (Mark 4:24). Why am I so blind to see the wages of sin? (Rom 6:23)

 Conversely, before I came in to check my emails, I did a simple good thing for a friend and -soon after that- God helped me to find a quick free transportation to reach the nearest town where I met this young girl I did not plan to seek. Here it is not easy to get public transportation and, when you don´t have enough money, you can´t even think of buying the food you need: A loaf of bread costs 1.200 Bs, a bus ride 300 Bs, and half an hour using a computer worth 250 Bs.

I have spent hours to arrive into the nearest town! Usually when I get bored at the bus stop, I choose to walk instead of feeling I have been missed out by any driver who hasn’t noticed me asking for a lift. Generally, I have spent more than two hours walking down a wavy road of 13 kilometers long, but nowadays that trip is risky for the unseen robbers that may appear, under a sun I don´t like…

It was a decision to change

I didn´t ask her name! I won´t tell you I got unrealistic wings to fly up and down and to fall in love again. However, if I liked her for being as I like, now I like her for allowing God to change any visible flaw she had in the former character of her guiltless presumptuous self: Too many people had compared her with Cleopatra! She had more fans than she thought she could...    

The moment I left the street dealer I walked a couple of blocks down out of the town. I passed in front of the high school where my daughter studies and then tried to see if she was also there. In front of me, few meters ahead on the right sidewalk, there was a little boy held by the hand of a petite black-haired woman. She looked like a Peruvian woman lifting some plastic bags, wearing a colorful red dress and, until the moment I looked at her curvy legs the wrong way (Mat 5:28) I had no idea who she was. I passed next –side by side- and, as soon as I checked her face, I knew how wrong I was...

-Hello! –I said, viscerally choked in surprised.

She kindly replied to my greetings detachedly (we´re not friends, and we never were). I wasn´t sure enough she was the one I thought, so I said few words to reconfirm I was not wronged or too confused.

She was not hypocritical neither effusive. I did insisted to know what had happened to get that new look, because any shortsighted there could also appreciate the innermost change that amazed me.

While we sat nearby in a park where her son played, I asked her about those pictures she had had, along with all those things she could have had as an altar of that lost alter ego.

-I burnt them all! –it was her keen answer- The 80 medals I have got fighting, I’ve gotten rid of too. Anything I vainly had to presume or brag I was someone above all, I removed out of my life to please and adore the only One who deserves glory and personal cult.

I wish you had heard all the things she really said. As you can infer, she did what Shaul Paul did:

“But these things which were once a gain to me, I have counted a loss for the sake of Messiah… I have suffered the loss of all things and count them to be trash…” (Php 3:7-8)

And I was sat next to someone I would not have reached unless God had worked in her mind to change her soul.

-If I was the other person you had seen before –she added- do you think I would be here talking to you, Sir?

-Of course not! –I replied instantly, marveled and watching her fearless eyes- I always saw you too high and far from me. I acknowledged those inferable limits you probably have set for yourself and, since now it is evident you have changed from the inside out I insisted you would tell me what have happened, that you aren´t that overconfident Doll anymore.

-I do pray that God spares me, Sir. I have to be careful since this is an undeserved miracle and I must be responsible enough to keep Him in my heart.

-Sure you will but, please! Do not tell me “Sir” (She was using another Spanish word too close to “Lord”) because I think that adjective should be only used just to appeal to the Lord Jesus. Instead –I asked- tell my name or label me any other way, as “brother”. I´m aware I´m older than you! But I´m ashamed you called me using that word I don´t feel it should be used for any men, lest we be a high minded “noblemen”.

A sound perception

Meanwhile we shared several thoughts and impressions; I told her I had vainly asked God talked to me audibly, that -after that day- I understood He sovereignly chose to talk to me with circumstances or deeds, and that she is one of those livid signs I´ve been seeking!

-Perhaps you have read a book you don´t believe. Don´t get me wrong, please, I´m not judging you, but it is my imprecise appreciation –she said- Instead, let´s agree on what it is said: “Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” (Heb 11:1) Do you believe in the Lord Jesus?

-Yes! I believe in His historicity –I replied, while taking care of her son- but He hasn´t given me a verbal proof that assures me I am not lied as I have been wronged by too many people before. For example, if I was told you became a Christian –not witnessing it myself - I would have said “Oh! That´s okay” but now that I see how much you´ve changed (from the inside out) I have a sound perception of the things I would have heard spoken or vaguely written. Each time I translated an article or a book into Spanish, I had to interpolate several thoughts to clarify what weren´t inside the original source. How do I know the Bible is an exact textual copy of the originals?

-Hmm! I am afraid you have been hurt –she assumed.

-Of course! It is as any child believing in X-mas, the moment you get your Dad or Mom placing those gifts under the Christmas tree, you would acknowledge the deception in that traditional and that surely happened to me: Jesus wasn´t born on that day! So I didn´t lie to my kids, because I cannot sell anything I haven’t tried, used or known.

-So, do you believe in the evolutionist theory of Darwin?

-When I was a child I believed it! But I see it lengthy and foolish now. I had a thick green book -with yellow pages- my dad owned. I studied it thinking I understood the secrets of life and all that could be inferred from that Darwinian Evolution, but I got bored of reading theories from old books where I couldn´t get an actual miracle as a proof. I won´t tell I wanted to see dead were made alive or a blind was healed and turned to see. My biblical doubts were around –as for brief examples- at those spiritual manifestations I haven´t seen or as when King David could have consulted God before he went to fight and he received short-term directions, when Israelites have an ephod. I wish I had an ephod to know what to do!

-That´s fine! –she said with her sight lost- But, the problem with an advantageous thing like that, it is the idolatry you could be facing with an ephod, as all Israelites were… Will you use it to help all people instead of you alone? Let me show you where you´re confused!

She opened her Bible to show me this:

“Gideon used the gold to make an ephod, which he put in his hometown, the town called Ophrah. All the Israelites worshiped the ephod. In this way the Israelites were not faithful to God--they worshiped the ephod. The ephod became a trap that caused Gideon and his family to sin.” (Jdg 8:27) [ERV]

She explained me that thing better than I could write you about...

-Just think if they had the lost Ark of the Covenant now and those holy priests ministering with their talkative ephods —simply imagine they actually received that personal attention they got once when they were the irreplaceable “chosen ones”…  Do you think God will bless with favors a single sinful nation against the others, where its individuals disobey and obey? Not on the disordered world we live! He said He would exalt and bless all the nations proceeding from Abraham´s faith and lineage (Gen 22:18). In a nutshell, He has chosen those who really obey and believed Him and His Son.

-Ok! –I agreed- I´ve been stubbornly entangled in the private convenience of having the Aladdin’s genie, yet I don´t need an ephod to worship it as Catholics adore their Holy Wafer. An ephod won´t be set in a polished metallic reliquary or at the top of a golden shrine I needed to boast. I just wanted Him spoke to me the way you talked, to feel it was a relationship, to be assured and spared of more failures! But I can´t tell Him what to do.

-Sure! The Israelites bragged a lot with the Ark (Jos 3:6, 3:13, 17; 1Sam 4:5-6). Gideon never thought (that something like that) would ever happen –she told me back- He had another good idea, yet his folks made an idol with it. Just for three minutes think of this: “If you had an ephod, one divine telephone that served you to know what to do —as if you had made a regular prayer or a devote consultation with God- do you think you would keep it as a hidden secret? No! You would check it daily instead of Him, as you did with that computer you used today. If it tells you the future or the things that are going to happen, will you bet in the lottery or in any form of gambling to get easy money?” You don´t deserve to be more special than the world is! If the Lord Jesus knelt, fasted and earnestly prayed during nights and days, you are not more gifted than He is.

-Wow! –I exhaled, shocked and surprised- You´re not hypocritical neither effusive when you talked. I have read the Bible, but I never understood it in that way... How long did it take you to know that?

- Approximately, few hours! But I know nothing about you.

-What! –I said laughing- I think I have wasted 20 years reading the Bible without that remarkable insight you showed.

-Hmm! –she thought, and then said- Remarkable it would be that you and the whole world knew that they cannot run with the hare and hunt with the hounds. If you had such a means of divine talk the rest of the world remained unfairly handicapped and possibly lost. God shows no preferentialism! That is why the Bible may serve to give all us spiritual guidance. Ask His Holy Spirit to understand it!

-I agree with what God is telling me through you —That´s not out of your wisdom! And now I know you won´t be offended if I gave the due credit to the One who is using your mouth to teach me.

We spent more time chatting together (by that time I took care of her child in a fancy yellow rocking chair I pushed). Tired and assured, I told her I would not ask Him –again- a word when He evidently had chosen another way to speak [with facts or actions] which –by the way- last much more than audible words I could quickly misunderstand… And it is useless I said she was also a renowned karate athlete who humbled herself to please the God she wholeheartedly believes now.

I´m unwilling to write more about her just to shun the mistake of exalting her, making another sexual idol, the one she was years ago as I realized.

-Well, I stayed here because I felt God had something to do with this unplanned meeting –She clarified- but I have to go.

-Sure! –I agreed- We never met and I´m happy I could witness this miracle first hand.

The moment I gave her back those bags I´ve been carrying to help her, she offered me her right hand for a shake, just when I was almost gone.

-Thanks for this time, amigo. I think I have spent too much time from you.

-Just the contrary! –I said, understanding- It was me the one who seized you and your kid´s time, to be tagged along talking as if I belonged to you.

A strange thing

How come would I have imagined that time shared? I would be lying to these notes if I hid I have sighed when I reread these words, few minutes back. It was a warm and nice exhalation... Although -in fact- I´m seriously trying to forget that I saw or met her recently… I just need auto medication against this remaining visceral anxiety and –if I really wanted to be cured of further emotional strings and romantic cultism- I could see in my mind her teeth are not the same I used to see, that she has two kids to care for now and, more important than those thoughtless things I could get as physical handicaps to hide myself inside those fears of rejection, I could look back at the things I sensed when she was high minded, younger, when she looked excessively forward, self-poised as I told her my daughter presently is.

-Whatever thing we uttered, it will be or comes to be true -I remembered she told me clearly- because in the mouth there is enough power to lift or destroy… Each person should be coherent with their saying and doing.

When she said that, I heard my soul jumping like a happy sucker!

A foolish heart

It was easy to know she has no telephone. I could guess she was alone the way I heard she randomly works —although I didn´t ask directly if she was engaged or married. But more than fearing I could be rejected emotionally, for me it was the moment when I heard she attends a church led by Soto Mayor... If she was Catholic I would understand it easily but, if she has grown up so quickly in that way, how come she became a fanatic member of a cultic group?

-I understand you might like Coca Cola instead of Pepsi cola —as I already told her, before I left- Your likes aren´t mine and mine aren´t yours. I´m aware Jesus said He would be “where two or three were present in His name” (Mat. 18:20) And after that, who am I to say you are wrong or right? I don´t see Soto Mayor as the angel —or chosen messenger- he says he is [I looked at her black eyes deeply to grasp her inner thoughts] but you believe what you believed.

I was losing my faith. I thought there wasn’t a concrete thing that would bless me for doing something good. I just considered Jesus at healing a reluctant man who later on betrayed Him (Joh 5:15) or the type of family members Joseph had (Gen 37:5) to be hated the most… Before any of them gained a better position or a fresher spiritual knowledge, they endured those tests I wish bypassed. Joseph became the 2^nd to command the Egyptians painstakingly and emotionally abused. David became a king enduring a long period of 14 years running and hiding from harassments, as also the Lord Jesus has suffered the untold to finally rule over those who accepted Him in His messiahship: No pain no gain!  

Recently, one friend in Europe challenged me to trust God no matter what... When I read her -to a small degree- she had said “It doesn´t matter what it is happening around you, but inside you”. She also said “Don´t try to lead or master Him! Instead of that, you haven´t realized yet you are His unsubordinated striver.” All she said sounded like I should trust God unconditionally, even to the point of death... Once I understood all these things, I stared in revulsive and disordered doubts!

I thought, “Is that the God she believes in?” Anything she said at that moment seemed too weird and undesirable to me. How come would I do that? I´m so used to look at the convenience of comfort zones or satisfactory circumstances.

“I do not permit a woman to teach or to exercise authority over a man; rather, she is to remain quiet.”

She is a keen foreign lawyer and, I purposely mentioned certain words of Paul´s letters (1Tim 2:12) to poke her new Jewish approach (or beliefs).

-I am not a Christian anymore! –She suddenly said.

-I know it! –I said laughing- I just wanted to know if all converted Jews there would think like Shaul Paul did.

-The first time I entered Israel´s main airport passageway –she said- I read a big announce saying: “Don´t think you are the only smart person in the world, in Israel we all are smart.” (I know she said it differently, but I´m quoting it from a weak and ravenous memory).

-I agree with you –I said quickly reconvening- Your friend Mary Wollstonecraft (1759-1797) would also back up you if she was alive… Chauvinism and Egocentrism are both extremist ideological foolishness, but all what you´ve said is not easy to digest now and -this as a bulk- it´s not enjoyable to be endured up to death... Besides of what has been previously said, it is foolish to think a woman does nothing good for herself or others and, as I have pondered before as a creed, some weak Pauline thoughts do not show me clearly she is legally hindered to teach men.

-Did you know that woman was also a school teacher and a translator? As an author in 1792 –she added- she wrote that “the ideal matrimony should be setup under intellectual affinities” and, she also fought for equal educative rights and, for promoting those radical ideas, she was banned by many men.

-I´ve heard she was smart –I told back- But I wish I knew why she tried to commit suicide when her husband Gilbert Imlay left her…

Regarding Paul´s apparent bigotry (simply spurred by the syncretism of Catholics translators and teachers) I wish I had mentioned Rahab´s or Caleb´s faithful services. “Did he read the book of Esther (Est 7:6) or the spiritual teachings I´ve perceived from the gentile Ruth (Rth 1:16-17, 20-21)?” In fact, women are the first teachers all men (and ladies) had [at home] before we went to formal schools: They tenderly embraced me before I knew how to hold a person in adult love. They kissed me with cares and dearest attentions before I knew those things had to be shared in life, and treasured for a doubtful eternity…

START UP

A couple of days after being threatened with such mental challenge I remained reluctant for any exercise of faith I ought to endure (same way many people have doubted they would ever be in a tough situation, after witnessing themselves everything had turned to be worse).

An umpteen-handed faith: My foolish allegation.

The mental cliché I had to deal with was “God loves and He is always kind”. I had missed childishly this world is a big school where we would be tested daily —liked or not- and, instead of that, I had chosen I would enjoy life the way I’d be pleased. I had forgotten this is not the real life! In fact, I see how satanic this chaos is now. Does a doctor need you to be sick to bring his food home? Did a mechanic long for your car engine failed to get the money he needs? Service should be my life’s target and not being served with the needs of other guys. The more I think of the mundane reward system and of the worldly economic system; I think there is something ungodly and wrong: Do I have to kill to eat? Do animals need to prey or to be preyed by any flesh? (Isa 11:6) That simply contradicts the original plan to be vegetarians (Gen 2:16) until the time came to tell us: “You shall not murder.”(Deut 5:17, Exo 23:7) (Yet, I agree the world does not seem to be always seen as the Bible seems to be saying it is).

A personal crisis is not sought! No one wants to lose his religious faith or personal background unless he thinks that could be superseded [or improved] by the beliefs I have got or heard with own personal experiences I thought that were superior to any umpteen-handed faith I had believed before but, as a matter of facts, with this delayed and unwanted struggle I´m now immersed, I also think these opinions will fail to meet God for myself: I have argued too many times God talked personally to any members of human race, and being here –in a communist country I don´t like- where Chauvinism is one of the 1^st elements of their systemic political idolatry, I don´t know what I´m fighting for or against:

·        Could this unpredictable fight be utterly postponed, since I don´t like being tested?

·        Did I want a country -or people- sinning and fighting like these?

Whatever the answer might be for someone who decisively is shrinking back for a quick withdrawal, here is a question I leave, as it could be rendered or endorsed to any of you: “Will you love God, whatever the test He sets you for?”

Liked or not! He has decided to try each of us, just to get what we have deep inside:

“…and there He tested them.” (Exo 15:25) [ESV]

”But He knows the way with me. When I am tried, I shall come forth as gold.” (Job 23:10) [HRB]

“Because you kept the Word of My patience, I also will keep you out of the hour of trial which is going to come upon the entire world in order to try those dwelling on the earth.” (Rev 3:10)

No religious upbringing

I have thought that if I knew Jesus Christ personally, my emotional background would be set in a sound Christian frame and needless it´s to say that I have ignored the 1st commandment dishonoring Him: “Love your God above everything”… But am I lied? Yet there were hundreds who met Him personally in Israel and they turned back to do what they thought best and, besides of that, I should keep in mind what Judas did. Hasn’t he seen what Jesus performed? Didn’t he hear what Jesus taught coherently a couple of years? I could see God myself making a miracle and, with similar blinded distrust, I could deny -at once- what I saw with my own eyes.

Given that Jesus is not God the Almighty One —but just His only begotten Son- it should be read what the O.T. and the N.T. have said, just to see if I can grasp a clear idea of the biblical meaning:

“And you shall love YAHWEH your Elohim with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might.” (Deut 6:5) [HRB]

“And Yahshua answered him, the first of all the commandments is: "Hear Israel. YAHWEH our Elohim is YAHWEH echad (united) and you shall love YAHWEH your Elohim with all your heart, and with all your soul and with all your mind, and with all your strength." This is the first commandment. (Deut. 6:4, 5)” (Mark 12:29-30) [HRB]

How could I love a person I don´t know, when I´ve found no way to meet or talk to Him?

It should not be done by simple hearing! It could be done by his/her deeds.

Uncomplicated assurance

We have believed all the books we´ve read. We have believed several versions of contemporary (biased) history as well as vamp rose novels. I also think I have loved Emily Brontë foolishly. The way I see “she” wrote several ideas have moved me. I don´t know how many times her works were proofread, how many times she or an editor modified her original job and, besides, I NEVER met her by reading her words or books. Someone has said she was a mystic, but I won´t read her books twice to find those faults, particular when I´ve kept the idea I liked her and, if I went beyond, I could idolize someone who die, like I´m dying daily. How come would you demand or ask absolute love without showing who you are physically and personally? [I hope God be willing to read my mind and this shortcoming]

Two-timing hearts vs. a spiritual courtship

Another important thing connected to bottomless love is making an interactive regular correspondence, born of mutual attraction and, regardless of the type of love God demanded —involving the heart, the soul, the strength and the mind- you probably would have loved another person viscerally for the way she (or he) smelled, the shape she had, the manners she has shown at laughing or evenly the calligraphy of her styled handwriting.

Of course, that type of spiritual courtship is not related to a nuptial vow, but it certainly involves our minds and the fidelity of our unfaithful hearts and, to me, that surely means filial affection. No one would ever say arbitrarily —and with intimidating cold-bloodedness: Love me, because I want you to love me. Would you?

The way you love (or loved) your parents is not the same you showed [or felt] when loving any of your cohorts but, the more I see how God wants to be loved I´m convinced He could have used a word involving our visceral guts to mean what He actually said using four words I already mentioned: the heart, the soul, the strength and the mind.

Some people have used the Greek words “Agapao” or “Phileo” to explain such kind of love, but the original source for that commandment was Hebrew or Aramaic, and not the hedonist Romanic Greek:

Have you read He wants to be loved viscerally and with all your strength?

By what about the human process of a quixotic flirting, the progressive idealistic/romantic ceremonious wooing?

He is not negotiating it, He wants it all.

Those who knew (or met) Him by name knew how endurable it was to love or befriending Him but, where is He now?

I have read He turned back (home) until the time I really changed…

I loved my dad, but I also disliked several things in him and, few months before he died, I got upset for a thing I think he did wrong and I never came back to visit him, except to lift his coffin to the cemetery with my relatives.

I loved my mom. I thought she was the most beautiful woman there was in the world and, when I grew as a child, that feeling changed and, as I can assure you now, that love I had is not the same I have now. Just because she is not the person I thought she was. How do I know the God I´m reading in the Bible is the One someone else says on that umpteen-handed faith?

Spiritual parenthood rather than religious

Have you seen why Catholics call their priests “fathers”?

Have you checked why they call their nuns or ministers “mothers”?

We long for ideal relationships!

Yet Catholics ignore what Jesus said in Mat 23:9 regarding that spiritual fatherhood we´ve missed, which it shouldn´t be based on ethnicity or cultural religious background, as it is actually discouraged as a means of self-confidence when Jesus spoke to Jews (Mat 3:9) or to disobedient believers calling Him “Lord! Lord!” (Mat 7:21)

Most of the families I have seen have a lethal flaw [I´m also a stain in the one I had] and, society provides certain forms of “parental” religions to cope with the homey emptiness and to “heal” the burden of faulty families. You are my “brother” or “sister” if you have believed what I have believed…

What type of family love you have or have had?

What´s your emotional background to discern you loved, liked or sexually used those you said you honestly cherished as persons?

Venezuela and several other countries in the world are being punished by the accumulation of their undone sins. In general, sins are punished individually (Jer 31:30, Eze 18:4, Eze 18:14-17, 20) but when one person agrees or an organized institution or group backs up a transgression or when someone else does not correct or reproached what it is done unlawfully (Eze 3:19, 21, Eze 23:28, 30) the whole nation will be punished... I never thought that could be possible!

Someone showed me the type of curses we are enduring for idolatry. Here it is the reason why I am being coursed with them too:

 “You'll be cursed if you disobey the commands of the LORD your God, if you turn from the way I'm commanding you to live today, and if you worship other gods you never knew.”  (Deu 11:28) [GW]

For more than 400 years God permitted Israel were enslaved in Egypt to serve idols and stones. A social race was punished for the idolatry and disobedience they stubbornly showed. Where was the divine consultation —or prayers- they made when starving? They heard the voice of what looked logic, desirable and convenient (Gen 45:18-19) and moved on to accomplish those dreams Joseph had.

Perhaps we have wrongly believed God only chose the few Jews He picked, but He clearly told Abraham “…and in your offspring shall all the nations of the earth be blessed, because you have obeyed my voice.” (Gen 22:18). It is inferable that if God was thinking to bless the whole world, He also planned to rule it, yet there were practical conditions: “The same rule applies to every one of you. It makes no difference whether you are a foreigner or an Israelite, because I am the LORD your God.” (Lev 24:22)

Again it says: “This means that you must follow the same laws and the same rules. These laws and rules are for you Israelites and for the other people who are living among you.” (Num 15:16) [ERV]

Those international blessings would ONLY come if we are obedient to Him, every place we are or could be culturally if we obeyed:

“And the LORD will make you the head and not the tail…”

“You will always be at the top, never at the bottom…”

“if you obey the commandments of the LORD your God. ” (Deu 28:13)

After 1444, Portugal traded with enslaved black people in Europe. Later on Spain did the same in America for more than 400 years, as Arabs merchants has done elsewhere. Africans and Spaniards intermingled with the local idolatry they encountered in America and this is punished everywhere you go until you see one law and one knowledge of it and –in Venezuela- I see the political idolatry many Jews also longed for: “I will set a king over me, like all the nations that are around me.” (Deut 17:14). Yet these chose a foreigner, one who was formed from two Colombians, one who doesn´t obey the Torah or a holy code to rule a country he does not deserve...

“You may not put a foreigner over you, who is not your brother.” (Deut 17:15)

How come this scarcity and connected social crimes won´t be seen or suffered up to its final day?

“Like the nations that the LORD makes to perish before you, so shall you perish, because you would not obey the voice of the LORD your God.” (Deut 8:20)

The more a country separates from God He will accomplish His final will, seeking repentance and a change.

This country gave another label to its name. This State is changed into the idolatry of both Simon Bolívar and Hugo Chávez and, because of him, you now read he call it “The Bolivarian Republic of Venezuela”. That is cultism! And what a shame! Chauvinism and the cult of personalities is idolatry. Did Bolívar fought all alone to set this country “free” from the Spaniards and the foreign consecutive exploitations? Politics do businesses as Simon Bolívar betrayed Francisco de Miranda...

Bolívar was a rich man -having lands and slaves- who also wanted to be a Hispanic nobleman aristocratically. He felt undermined as Adolf Hitler also felt and in history he seized the chance to rule and get sociopolitical economic benefits as also communists do here now... But these Venezuelan citizens are blinded with the possibility of having an extended bite over the bureaucratic monetary cake.

Each time I sought my convenience —instead of a holy love- I missed God´s plans for human beings. It is not that I wanted to rule your minds or the thoughts of those folks I don´t like, it is that I´m thinking selfishly I was part of other nation not linked to political groups. In fact, I hate being ruled!

Video Tip 1

La sopa testamentaria

            He conseguido sacar la última escama. Con un trozo de una franela blanca mutilada, me he limpiado la nariz tres veces y, aún el cosquilleo del ají sigue produciendo esa rara sensación de hormigueo, de gusto sancochado, aunque a ratos la nariz siga goteando impertinentemente, como cuando se ha llorado mucho, pero esta vez sin dolor ni lagrimeo. Todavía hay trozos de carne entre dientes. La lengua sirve para saborear los restos de pescado deshecho y, al mismo tiempo, hace de mondadientes. ¿Cuándo, en mi vida, hice sopa de carapacho, cola y cabeza? Jamás cociné con tanta agua insignificancia alguna, porque la cabeza y el esqueleto -con desdén- siempre se botaba.

            No conocí el hambre cuando niño. Ya en la adultez, tras mi prolongado divorcio, tuve una leve noción de qué era el hambre o no tener comida a mi antojo, porque mis ingresos escaseaban para comprarla pero, por efecto colateral de la separación, hasta llegué a comer queso de mano en mal estado (lo hervía y luego lo derretía desde el envase que olía mal) y, de allí en adelante, tuve que aprender a cocinar –porque dependí demasiado de mi ex esposa- pero, la situación actual de Venezuela es económica y políticamente muy distinta a lo que fue aquello en el 2008 donde pocos comimos lo descompuesto.

            Todavía puedo lamerme la sal desde los labios. El aceite que quedó adherido pasa por el paladar y hace que deguste el falso bolo que hago, cuando insisto en desprender lo que palpo entre los molares, los pliegues de la boca y, en mi lucha para no insalivar más, noto lo que se divierte bajando por el tobogán de la garganta, estimulada por el picante, más que el sabor y aroma del ají dulce. ¿Quién me iba a imaginar cenando hoy una humilde y deliciosa sopa de pescado hecha con picadillo de hojas de pira, trozos de hojas de cilantro, una chispa de orégano, un voleo de comino, una pizca de sal, y dos cabezas de pescado que me dio mi hijo Josh?

            Antes de acostarme, ya luchando con mi relación de sueño postergado frente a mi computadora, preví no perder la parte carnosa del esqueleto de lo que hace pocos días fueron dos hermosos peces. Usé dos platos con tapa para llenarlos con el caldo y, la ollita verde que tiene la tapa más “hermética”, la usé para guardar las piezas que supuse tenían más proteína, pues, el hambre que me mata es proteica. No deseo seguir tomando agua con azúcar o sorber cucharadas de aceite para darle algo de energía a un cuerpo que reclama una comida decente (si es que a la sana alimentación pueda dársele ese carácter de dignidad adjetiva).

            Al despertar, como todos los días, abrí los ojos para verificar que estaba vivo y no muriendo en un sueño. Cerré los ojos para agradecer a Dios otro día (como a menudo lo hago en Su distante ausencia) y mentalmente traté de incorporarme, pensando lo que había de hacer en mi cuarto, en lugar de salir a sembrar lo que tardaré meses para cosechar y, a menudo trato de ser práctico (aunque siempre parezca que me equivoco).

            Encendí mi computadora mientras iba a lavarme los dientes, recostado sobre un lado de mi cama. Avistando la posible descomposición de aquella sopa de anoche, destapé mi mejor olla y percibí que mi aprensión no era tan precipitada o incorrecta; la sopa, aún así, podía comerse para no botar el vital elemento.

            Sorbí el líquido y me senté a trabajar en mi computadora. Tengo tantas cosas que deseo hacer y, en cuestión de instantes, mi atención se dispersó en pequeños detalles cosméticos, en lugar de hacer lo que me produciría dinero o un resultado final que trajera un cambio político a mediano plazo...

            Casi sin pensarlo, hubo otro apagón eléctrico y, en lugar de arrecharme –como sería mi costumbre- asumí que Dios quiere que esta situación miserable siga y se prolongue, que los servicios y todo funcione mal en este país que produce malestares, y fue allí cuando decidí terminar de comer lo que ya había olido y probado en la mañana, a objeto de no desperdiciar lo que mi hijo mayor con cariño me regaló, al saber que tenía un par de días con hambre.

-¡Hubieras venido ayer! Te habríamos dado comida.

-¡Hijo! –le dije- cada persona debe hacer lo suyo por su alimento. Uno no debe recostársele a otros, y menos yo a ti, que tienes un hijo y familia que alimentar.

-¡Pero tú eres mi papá! Y yo no te voy a dejar que te mueras de hambre.

            Esas palabras fueron más que un halago e insospechado aliciente.  Jamás fui el padre dadivoso que he deseado ser para él. Siempre estuve por debajo de mis deseos y expectativas con lo que he deseado darle o tenerle –pero- esas palabras sinceras (coherentes con su actitud habitual) produjeron el deseo instantáneo de no morir y, no se trata de vivir para mí, sino de seguir con vida por él, con él, así como aquel día en que pensé quitarme la vida con un mortal tiro de escopeta, aquella vez que ciertamente iba a suicidarme, no queriendo soportar los detalles insulsos (e innecesarios) de esta aciaga vida: Mi amor por mi hijo, varias veces, me ha devuelto a la vida... ¿Volverá a ser digna?

            Cuando fui a visitarles el día anterior, llevé la Tablet que les estoy revisado. Sin saberlo, él acababa de volver del conuco que tiene conjuntamente con su madre y, mientras hablaba con Joy, salió a recibirme comiendo un trozo de algo en su mano.

-¡Bendición, papá! –me dijo.

-¿Qué comes? –pregunté.

            Y haciendo un gesto con mi mano, hice como que sólo probaría un pedacito y, mientras me volvía a charlar con mi hija, les comenté que no había comido, y de inmediato él se marchó, sin sospechar que le traía algunas cosas.

-¡Joy! Este libro trata sobre el matrimonio.

-¡Sí! Pero está en inglés. –replicó, con cierto desdén.

-¡Desde luego! –debí decirle, con palabras “quiero que lo aprendas” – La única manera de que vayas a Kuwait o al país ese con pocetas de oro… ¿Cómo es que se llama?

-¡Dubai! Y es una ciudad, no un país. –corrigiéndome con remedo.

-Es aprendiendo inglés. Yo, a tu edad (o algo más tarde) comencé a estudiarlo y, con este libro, The Christian Marriage, quiero que no cometas los errores que yo cometí con mi sexualidad libertina…

            No me extendí mucho en detalles. Tengo la rápida impresión de que a Joy sólo le gusta la satisfacción instantánea de lo que a ella le importa, cuando cree en lo que son sus actuales necesidades y, como no me para bolas, la sobrellevo… ¡Cuando sea mamá! (si es que pare) sabrá el malestar que ella me causa, con su ofensiva o despectiva actitud.

-¡Toma papá! –dijo Joshua, regresando- ¡Cómete esto!

            ¡Carajo! (pensé para mí) Tenía una semana que no veía un verdadero plato de comida y, la última vez que vi uno completo, fue cuando le reparé la computadora a la Dra Carmen Requena –me dieron comida en su casa- pero ciertamente, todavía no me han cancelado lo que me adeudan ellos.

-¡Gracias, papá! –le dije- No me espera esto de ti.

-También te tengo un poquito de pescado que quiero te lleves y hagas una sopa. Yo le quité los filetes para tu nieto, pero se puede hacer algo con lo que queda… ¡Estaba cocinando justo cuando llegaste!

            Joy se marchó llevando el libro azul sin siquiera una muestra de afecto o agradecimiento (estoy acostumbrado a eso y más) (sólo lo escribo para que ella y tú lo sepan algún día).

-¡Coño! -dije- Esto se ve demasiado bueno para postergarlo y ¿Cómo está tu hermano Elisha?

            Joshua me puso al tanto de pequeños detalles que omito. Ignoraba la profundidad de su amistad con mi otro hijo –el troublemaker- pero, por otro lado, me alegro que sean así de unidos. Le referí detalles de cuando llevé a alguien que trabaja en cuestiones de Derechos Humanos y cómo me trataron los policías y, quienquiera que haya visitado esos sitios, conoce la desagradable actitud de los policías venezolanos, la extorsión y la manipulación de cada investigación…

-El artículo Artículo 11 de la Declaración Universal de los Derechos Humanos dice: “Toda persona acusada de delito tiene derecho a que se presuma su inocencia mientras no se pruebe su culpabilidad, conforme a la ley y en juicio público en el que le hayan asegurado todas las garantías necesarias para su defensa.”

-¡Papá! –me dijo- Una cosa es lo que dice un papel, y otra es lo que se hace con ello…

            Al momento llegó Alex y, sin terminar de hablar sobre Derechos Humanos, acordé un par detalles para que mis hijas subieran a visitarme a mi casa, a fin de mostrarles algunos programas que había instalado en mi computadora, para que ellas aprendieran usarlos o -al menos- supieran que estaban allí.

            Alex me pidió que la esperara un rato y, mientras yo comía y hablaba con Joshua y Alexangerla. De mi parte, tuve la impresión de que Joy parecía indispuesta [a subir conmigo o a hacer tal viaje a pie]… De modo que me fui solo al cabo de una hora, con la computadora que les he de volver a reparar (no sé cómo es que ellas no cuidan las cosas).

            Nunca hice “sopa” de pescado. Sin tener ingredientes como papa, ocumo o las verduras que me faltan, parecióme bueno agregar suficiente agua condimentada para que se ahogara un par de espinazos -de los que alguna vez fueron peces- y jamás volverían a ver la inmensidad del mar. ¿Cómo no recordar las comidas o festividades en la ciudad vacacional de Los Caracas? Mis tías, mi tío o mi abuela cocinaban estupendos sancochos con todo lo que pudiesen comprar. Mi familia nunca fue rica, pero el país no fue enteramente pobre ¡había comida! Pero el comunismo lo ha empobrecido como nunca.

-¡Estas carajitas ya no vienen! –pensé para mí, en el fogón- Es demasiado tarde para enseñarles a usar esas herramientas de trabajo… Cortaré más cilantro y le echaré más monte al vacío de esta olla… ¡No voy a desperdiciar la leña!

            Eran cerca de las 5 pm cuando la olla burbujeaba. Oí cierto ruido que me distrajo de la tarea recolectora de hojas y, tras un silbido leve, noté que mis niñas habían llegado.

-¡Pensé que no venían! –dije al abrir- Aunque ya es tarde. ¿Qué las retrasó?

-¡Ah! –respondió Joy- Estábamos ocupadas en otras cosas.

            Al verla cara a cara, vi demasiada pintura y, el olor cosmético, no fue de mi agrado.

-¡Hum! ¿Por qué usas tanto maquillaje para venir a mi casa? Aquí no hay esa necesidad ni acá habrá nadie a quien tengas que presumir.

-¡Ja! ¡Ja! –con leve sarcasmo, y sin auto justificarse.

-¡Estábamos tomando fotos, papá! –me informó Alex.

-¡Ah! ¡Bienvenidas! Aunque ahora estoy cocinando, y necesito desocuparme de los detalles pendientes para volver a atenderlas… ¡Cocino con leña porque se me acabó el gas!

            Verdaderamente, no me gusta reprogramarme. Son mis hijas y debo ser buen anfitrión pero, reprogramar tareas, me toma tiempo, y más cuando el tiempo de trabajo se limita, y ya sé cómo son algunas cosas.

            Puse suficiente leña al fuego como para que la olla soportara su trabajo. No olvidé detalle alguno y me fui con mis hijas.

-Lo que quiero enseñarles es para que sepan manejar estos programas pero hoy ya no habrá tiempo para explicarles el cómo, sino para mostrarles algunos resultados… ¡Llegaron muy tarde!

-¡Ay, si! Lo sabemos, pero muéstranos y ya… (Les aseguro que esa no es la forma en que me habla Alex).

-¡Alex! –sentada expectante a mi lado- En esta computadora tengo varias herramientas de trabajo y, como no falta mucho para que caiga la noche, les mostraré lo que puede hacerse y, mientras un par de estas aplicaciones se cargan, les mostraré un diccionario básico de inglés que trae juegos interactivos y otras cosas que deseo sepan, para que aprendan.

            Puse a funcionar el Longman básico, jugamos unos minutos, y me controlé para que no se extendieran en intrascendencias.

-¡Para qué es ese botón, papá?

-¡Buena pregunta, Alex! Si aprietas ese icono rojo, oirás por las cornetas cómo se pronuncia cada palabra, aunque allí no sean muchas: Es un diccionario básico.

-¡Ah! Y, ¿aquella pestaña? –volvió a preguntar Alex, mientras Joy observaba silenciosa, sentada a nuestras espaldas.

-Si vas a la izquierda –les dije- con ella se despliega el lote de palabras de ambos diccionarios, sea el de inglés o del español, para que así tengas una leve definición y uso de dichas palabras.

-Hmm! –llevando sus deditos al mentón dijo- Eso no lo tengo yo en mi computadora, papá.

-¡Lo sé! –respondí a Alex- Por eso estuve insistiendo en que vinieran conmigo. Las aplicaciones de Windows no siempre existen en Linux y, el día en que me muera, estas computadoras les quedarán a ustedes, una para cada uno.

-¡Bah! Siempre estás con eso de que te vas a morir, Antonio.

            ¡Hmm! Me valdré de la tecnología para dejar constancia de la cara de culo que –a menudo- me hace...

-¡Joy! –refuté calmadamente- Yo ya no quiero vivir en este maldito país. ¡Estoy cansado de ver tanta ingrata gente o incómoda situación!... Y, lo que más me disgusta, es ver que muchas personas no perciben lo que está mal aquí.

-Y mientras más lo digas seguirá así. –rezongó a baja voz- ¡Tú mismo los maldices!

El pecado oculto

            En ese sentido –oportunamente- Joy me ayudó a entender el pecado inconfeso que he venido repitiendo por años: Maldecir. Ayer no tuve tiempo para meditar o entender lo que disparatadamente me dijo, simplemente para descalificar mi deseo de no seguir teniendo parte en lo que ya no considero sea vida.

-¡Ah, bueno, papá! –rápidamente Alex dijo - a mí me dejas todo lo que sea de computación.

-¡De acuerdo hija! Con todos esos programas que están en estas cajas…Y a Joshua le dejo el resto de cosas, todo lo que está en la casa: Pero una computadora para cada uno.

-¡Y me das la mejor, papá! –se aseguró su parte, mi hija adoptiva.

-¡Así será, Alex! –les dije, aunque Alexangerla parecía (más bien) la única en aprobar mis ideas, sobre todo, por el hecho de que (al instante y entre risas) hizo la repartición de bienes, sin malicia alguna de desposeer a nadie y, quizá, por el hecho de verlo como algo lógico, posible o gracioso.

-Por mí, pueden hacer lo que quieran –espetó Joy en remilgos- Yo no estoy pendiente de que te mueras, y nada de eso me falta…

-¡Desde luego, Joy! –interpuse enojado- Yo tuve el buen atino de mirar más allá de la pechuga y las pompis de tu madre, porque es una mujer trabajadora y, ustedes solas conmigo, ya hubieran muerto de hambre.

            A modo de cambiar el tema, pero ciertamente con la curiosidad de una niña coqueta y transparentemente sincera, preguntó Joy:

-¡Ah, ya, sí! Pero ¿para qué es ese bichito redondo y negro allí, arriba del monitor Antonio?

-Es una cámara.

            ¡Sólo eso faltaba para terminar la breve clase! Yo no sé cómo es que estas carajitas brincaron -a una- a mi silla, con la idea de tomarse fotos...

            Yo las invité a que conocieran lo que tengo en las máquinas para TRABAJAR y, por su parte, decidieron jugar y fotografiarse…

            A la mañana siguiente, primero de mayo del 2017, enteramente consciente y en ejercicio pleno de todas mis facultades, cabal y de sano juicio… (Lo de arriba, en serio, es la sustancia de MI TESTAMENTO) desperté a la realidad nacional y política en la que no quiero estar sumido ni reducido ¿Cómo es posible que, para poder comprar comida ¡y comer! tengo que hacerlo según el día que corresponda a mi número de cédula?

Mal hecho

            No hice bien en maldecir a un millar de personas que se dicen venezolan@s y “compatriotas”, pero el venezolano no era cubano ni gente que se diera por vencida en soportadas colas. No éramos la clase que tolerábamos abusos, sin embargo, otr@s las promueven identificándose como revolucionari@s.

Aclaratoria

            Hace poco, con un mensaje de texto, le escribí a mi hija un comentario más breve, similar a este:

-¡Joy! ¿Recuerdas que me dijiste que te sentías incómoda por la gente del pueblo? Cuando te hable de lo bien que me sentía en mi casa, me comentaste que percibes a la gente de este pueblo como chismosos, como entrometidos y que ahora, para colmo en lo que no desearías, hay una docena de malandros en tu sector, y que prefieres no verlos…

            Cuando maldije a Venezuela, me refería a esa clase de gente que a mí tampoco me gusta. Yo me siento bien en este lugar mío pero, cuando voy a la ciudad y veo la proliferación de malandros, malvivientes, ladrones y mendigos, gente que se come la luz de los semáforos como buhonero que se come lo poco que tengo, siento que es a ellos a quienes “dedico” la maldición que he dicho. Sin embargo, de acuerdo a las palabras de Jesucristo, debí bendecirlos, debí orar por mis enemigos y, aunque ahora no tengo fuerzas para amar a los que me son antipáticos e ingratos. Sin embargo, tu reproche me ha servido para ver mi error (y mi pecado) aunque NO tengo ganas de orar por los que me abofetean desde el gobierno, ni por los que me cobran los impuestos del IVA sin trabajar y, para colmo, hasta por tu hermano menor he visto cómo los policías extorsionan a tu madre ¡Y a miles de madre! Porque hay un millar de jóvenes allá afuera que no quieren estudiar y, cuando yo daba clases en un liceo, me fue fácil abandonar la universidad, al notar (repetidamente) que los liceístas me ofrecían dinero para que les aprobara la materia, y hasta tenían el descaro de decirme: “¿Quiere dinero, profesor, o sólo le gustarían mujeres y licor?”…

           

            Cuando vi al país cambiar abruptamente así, decidí ponerme a trabajar en cualquier otra cosa y, en cuestión de semanas, renuncié a ese liceo en La California Sur. (Te dejé una copia, a ver si entiendes el pasado)

Delator inconsciente

            ¿Qué te puedo decir de la universidad? Aunque todavía me gusta estudiar, allí vi profesores que aplican la “técnica de la operación colchón” para “aprobar” a las carajitas bonitas (pero malas estudiantes). Allí supe de otras cosas que me desagradan como “posiciones arbitrarias de dominio” y, si inconscientemente delaté ayer este odio que acumulo por décadas, si cada vez que toco el tema Venezuela lo veo empeorar y empobrecer, que me perdone Dios por maldecir a esa clase de gente que explota a otras –como los políticos y los buhoneros- y luego (ell@s) se autodenominan patriotas ¡Que los bendiga Dios! Yo no sé bendecir a quien haga tanto mal y, cuando Elisha hizo lo que no sé si hizo (si lo recuerdas todavía) yo, antes de hablar con él, primero le informé a tu madre y a ti... Yo quise arreglar las cosas por el camino de la honestidad, con la verdad (si es que algo de ella queda) pero –en este país- no veo que mi verdad sirva para comer ni para tener la estabilidad económica que  nunca he tenido. No pude dormir dos noches. ¡Temí que Elisha hubiera cometido un delito! (Aunque yo sí que soy un ladrón de verdades). Y sólo para tener un placebo mental, para calmar ese dolor o aprensión (y vergüenza) imaginé que sólo hacía las veces de aguantador y, cuando él me comentó su versión de cosas (insinceramente) diciendo que él no había robado nada, hipócritamente yo me comprometía a ocultar la verdad que no imaginaba y ¡A dejar las cosas así!... ¡Pardiez! Al cabo de varios días, él mismo entregó a la policía las cosas que había escondido en su cuarto y, al poco rato (cuando salió de tu casa) devolvió lo que tenía escondido en la calle… ¿Por qué no me las devolvió a mí, sincerándose, antes de que lo denunciaran? Hoy no importa eso ya, pero él le habla bajito a los uniformados que extorsionan a millares, mientras que a mí, me habla atrevidamente… Que yo sepa, sólo le hablo mal a mi mamá cuando ella hace lo indebido, o cuando ya no me entiende ¡Pero no cuando pasa lo contrario! Pero ustedes son tan distintos a mí…

Sopa en segunda tanda

            Esas hormigas han de tener un olfato increíble (o el pescado presto a descomponerse les fascina). Algunas espinas cayeron fuera del tobo que puse a mi lado pero, casi sin darme cuenta, de un menudo grupo de las primeras diez, han salieron cien… ¡Dejaré que coman lo que yo mismo no pude mordisquear!

Buenos momentos

            Es increíble lo que hace la lengua. Por un lado saca las escamas, determina dónde están las partes duras y deliciosamente comestibles y, por otro lado, o te salva de la espina o te mueres junto con ellas (tal cual las clava la lengua viperina). La lengua puede darte a beber buenos momentos de los labios de la mujer que ames o consigas. Puedes complacerla con las caricias del paladar con el que la has seducido y, si te has dedicado a pocas, darás a ellas lo que no diste a muchas, con salacidad (no diré a qué lugar me refiero). ¡Increíble!  Ese musculillo puede amar y, al mismo tiempo, es capaz de destruir en minutos lo que fue lo mejor de tus días, o cualquier relación. ¡Razón tiene Santiago! (Stg. 1:26; 3:5-8) Tiene el poder de maldecir y bendecir, de construir y desbaratar...

            Luego de varia horas, lavé la ropa que había dejado en remojo. El día estaba deliciosamente nublado, pero no malbarato el escaso detergente en polvo. Los restos de aquella sopa los enterré para hacer abono para mis matas y, con la misma, lavé los trastos; aunque estuve luchando con un vaso, para quitar el desagradable olor cosmético que deja el labial que usaba Joy: El hambre me ha despertado el olfato. Supongo que todos los tenemos adormecidos por la cotidianidad o “la abundancia” que teníamos, pero –para mi propia sorpresa- ahora puedo detectar a distancia los olores que sólo antes percibía a menos de un metro.

            En uno de esos instantes de auto introspección, descubrí algo nuevo cuando untaba de jabón ese vaso de metal renuente y perfumado. Meditaba en eso de la fe y –e un flashback- comprendí que hay algo que falta, y es la experiencia y la confirmación. Cuando estaba en el liceo, en una clase de química (me parece) nos hicieron meter la mano en una caja de cartón que tenía varias cosas. Nos preguntaban qué tenía y, cada uno de nosotros reportaba cosas distintas, cada uno tuvo experiencias distintas y, como no las veíamos, la certeza parcial de dicha “experiencia” mediatizada por una caja que no debíamos destapar, no todos tuvimos la misma experiencia con las cosas que palpamos con la mano: Lo mismo sucede con lo que llamamos FE.

            He aquí la analogía que me hizo entender la no fe, la inexactitud de mi experiencia versos la no manifestación TANGIBLE de Dios en mi vida, contrapuesta a hechos que sólo “Le” suponen, pero no le revelan (ni se manifiesta personalmente). ¿No le oyó y miró Saulo Pablo? (Hechos 9:4, 26:14)

            En la mesa de mi cuarto tengo una pequeña caja azul, hecha de plástico. Mi hermano Alan me la regaló con vitaminas a punto de vencerse (no me las tomé todas -como él pensó lo haría- porque las usé para nutrir mis matas). Si escondiera esa cajita en una bolsa o tela negra, si sólo permitiera palpar con las manos su forma, si solamente permitiera que alguien captara el olor del envase, con seguridad, alguien diría “es una caja de vitaminas” (el olor del aspartame es característico para muchos). Siguiendo aquella metodología del laboratorio de química, sin dejar que nadie la viera por dentro, sin dejar que la abrieran, podría dejar que la agitaran para producir su actual sonido ¿Qué se oiría? ¿Sabrían que es de plástico? ¿Dirían que es “metal” plastificado, como el que uso para guardar mis espejuelos? La gente diría cualquier cosa –yo diría lo mismo- porque esa clase de cosas -sin testimonio de la experiencia y la vista- se presta a la especulación y a la imaginación. ¿Qué tengo allí adentro? Mayormente tornillos y, el sonido que produce, resulta igual al que tenían las vitaminas y, con ese olor que no le he sacado al envase, cualquiera que lo huela (o le abra sin usar los ojos) simplemente asumirá: “Es una caja de vitaminas” ¡Y no lo es! (nunca lo fue, porque no están). ¡Lo mismo sucede con la fe! (o el amor). ¿Dónde carajo están tangiblemente, si uno no es quien lo crea o los mantiene en su mente (con acciones coherentes del cuerpo y del pensamiento)?

            Alguien bien ha dicho: “El amor no está donde se busca, sino donde se encuentra.” ¡Así es la fe! Uno la puede buscar en cualquier parte, en cualquier persona pero, cuando TE encuentra (ella o él a ti) sabes qué es aquello que querías o anhelabas... ¡Desde luego! El amor y la fe son dos cosas volátiles o perecederas (como una sopa deliciosa). Una, es etérea como el perfume y, a cierta edad, puede ser incendiaria y, en el caso de la fe, ya no puedo decir “que me encienda”, ella es algo que te abandona o se abandona por los desatinos o trasteos a ciegas y -en mi caso- parece que han sido ambas cosas: Ayer tuve una “sopa” sin verduras, hoy sólo queda ese recuerdo vago e intangible entremezclado con hambre, y estas palabras que -¡sabrá Dios!- las leerá alguien, algún día.

PS

            No es por nada, pero la “felicidad” cae a cuentagotas. En la foto que se muestra –la pose sedada de arriba- sólo vino a efectos de verse ella como quiso verse (o la vieran) no como a menudo sea conmigo. Alex, por el contrario, sí es más cariñosa, más transparente y NADA criticona (no le debo nada a ella).