The Rotten and Sinful Lamb
I am kneeling in front of the altar at the center of the church. As the summer sunlight filtered through the mosaic windows on the walls, depicting ancient stories in the Bible, I was bathed in their vibrant colors. I raised my head like a desperate worshipper to the gong of the bells in the air as the clock struck noon. My hands and fingers were clasped as I pressed them to my forehead and I bowed, my mouth muttering prayers passed down from century to century.
I am a trespasser in the halls of God.
I did not come here to worship or give my thanks to Him. I have come here simply because I am tainted and unpure, as they claim, ignorant of the world. “You do not believe in God? Shame on you, insolent child.” I am ten years old and I do not know what the priest means by believing in Him, the Lord. I asked the man in a white robe where is this Lord they speak of reverently, this man of great power? I do not see him anywhere. Is he the man above the altar? Bloodied but smiling as he is being crucified on the cross. The priest nodded and the image of Jesus made me shiver in my place. This image above me was a fry cry from the ones in the paintings I have seen, soft and kind. He was not in pain the last time I saw him. A merciful man is punished because of the sins of humans. A sacrificial lamb is being offered to pay for the wrongs of man before him and after him. Good God, did little Jesus know he was going to die when he grew up? Did his mother, the Virgin Mary, weep every night in agony when his son was the savior of mankind?
I felt the stinging pain on my calves as the priest whacked me with his stick. “A person who does not believe in the words of the Lord shall never go to Heaven. If I catch you questioning His authority, I won’t be so lenient.” My knees were turning purple and I could feel my thighs shaking from exhaustion. All I did was ask an innocent question. All I did was ask where is God now and why isn’t he here. Is pain a form of repentance? “Repent and He shall forgive your sins. I am doing this for your own good, child.”
What have I done wrong?
I continued to keep my hands together, my head tipped down, and my mouth chanting for forgiveness amidst the confusion in my brain. From the stories I heard, He helps his children and guides the lost lamb back to the herd because he is a shepherd. Why am I still not with the herd? Why is the little black sheep not guided by the shepherd?
Am I too rotten? Too far gone to be forgiven?
Help me. I fear that the Lord is not a merciful man.
If He is a kind being, he would surely help me back. The Lord will surely cure this illness in my head, or else, I won’t be asking why he’s invisible. If he is kind, he will tell the priest to stop and instead forgive me for I am only a child. The priest continues to thwack my calves but the pain is numb now. I am used to being rotten and sinful because I am human. It is our faith and doom to be sinful.
I raised my head and silenced the consuming voices in my head. The faces on the bright mosaic windows watching me pitifully. Does God care for me, and love me enough to save me? The priest had ceased his punishment, I felt a trickle of blood running down my skin. I stared at the form of Jesus on the cross and gritted my teeth as the pain finally set in.
Why are you still smiling at me?
