Lord, why did you tell me to love all humanity, my brothers and sisters?

I have tried, but I come back to you, frightened…

Lord, I was so peaceful at home, I was so comfortably settled. It was well furnished, and I felt cozy. I was at peace. Sheltered from the wind, the rain, the mud. I would have stayed uninterrupted in my ivory tower. But, Lord, you have discovered a breach in my defences, You have forced me to open my door, Like a squall of rain in the face, the cry of people has awakened me; Like a gale of wind a friendship has shaken me, As a ray of light slips in unnoticed, your grace stirred me… and rashly I left my door ajar…

As soon as I started to open the door I saw them, with outstretched hands, burning eyes, longing hearts, like beggars on church steps. The first ones came in, Lord. There was after all some space in my heart. I welcomed them. I would have cared for them, my very own little lambs, my little flock. You would have been pleased, Lord, I would have served and honoured you in a proper, respectable way. Till then, it was sensible…

But the next ones, Lord, I had not seen them; they were hidden behind the first ones. There were more of them, they were wretched; they over-powered me without warning. We had to crowd in, I had to find room for them. Now they have come from all over, in successive waves, pushing and jostling one another. They have come from all over town, from all parts of the country, of the world; numberless, inexhaustible. They don’t come alone any longer but in groups, bound one to another. They come bending under heavy loads; loads of injustice, of resentment and hate, of suffering and sin…

They drag the world behind them, with everything rusted, twisted, or badly adjusted. Lord, they hurt me! They are in the way, they are everywhere, They are too hungry, they are consuming me! I can’t do anything any more; as they come in, they push the door, and the door opens wider…

Lord! My door is wide open! I can’t stand it any more! It’s too much! It’s no kind of life! What about my job? My family? My peace? My liberty? And me? Lord, I have lost everything, I don’t belong to myself any longer; There’s no more room for me at home…

“Don’t worry”, God says, “you have gained all. While people came to you, I, your Father, I, your God, Slipped in among them.”

– Michel Quoist (1918-1997AD)

– Edited for modern English by Matt.