I wanted to shout it from the Rooftops: “JESUS IS ALIVE! JESUS IS REAL! He’s actually here, in the flesh, in the host! I LOVE HIM!”
I went back to England that Christmas and told anyone who would listen, and anyone who wouldn’t listen. My friends and family thought I’d lost the plot, but I just couldn’t stop myself. This encounter with his healing love: it overflowed from my heart and I couldn’t help but share it with those around me.
I wanted to tell everyone about the new friend I’d made, about the real presence of the body of Christ in the Eucharist, and how He had given me back my life, or rather to say, had brought me into new life.
I grew an insatiable appetite for the Lord. I wanted to discover more about my faith; I started attending daily mass and adoration, and began to go out into the street evangelising.
The Mass was transformed for me. It was no longer something that I merely attended, but was something that I participated in. It wasn’t just dry and abstract words, it was the Word of God, i.e. the presence of God. I was receiving Christ’s body and blood, I was participating in His saving sacrificial act: His death on the Cross, His resurrection.
It was all about thebody, the body and blood of Christ: this was what I had been missing my whole life, a communion with the flesh of Christ, mine meeting His, a real and concrete encounter between Him and me, which brought my wretched, lonely and broken little self into joyous, radiant, glorious life in Him.
photo by Silvia Sala