An attorney is faced with clients who have no hope of seeing freedom any time soon. And He appears in their midst.
During the last few weeks, thanks to the work of the School of Community, the attitude that has prevailed in me, by sheer and utter grace, is that of having met the source of my hope. And this is not some abstract memory but a lived relationship with that man, Christ, here and now. I embrace what my heart is waiting for by never giving up on my need.
Yet, when talking to a client in jail yesterday (I am a criminal defense lawyer), it surprised me how I was succumbing to the temptation of hopelessness. The last few weeks I have been able to argue for the release of a pretty significant number of people. However, some people are harder to get out of jail than others. And in my almost daily conversations with them (they are all scared about COVID-19), I struggle not to argue with them. Those that know me, know that I have a way of expressing myself that can be forceful (even nasty and sarcastic).
This particular client calls me every other day. I told him recently on a call that I had nothing new to report. In other words: stop bugging me, bro. He told me he calls me because when he talks to me he feels that there is still hope for him, that it will be possible to begin again once “this is all over”--"this" being a long wait in the county jail pending a potential sentence to a significantly longer state prison term.
Imagine that. Who is this man who breaks through my temptation of hopelessness and is able to convey hope in spite of my being part of the “confusion, the dark loneliness, and the whirling violence that dominate our world today”? [SoC p. 56] It doesn’t get any more carnal than that, my friends.
What saves me from nothingness is never forgetting Who happened to me and running out to meet Him when he crosses my path on a daily basis through the friendships that give me certainty and hope because He is at the source of these friendships. The font of all Holiness (Being). Though I am fragile and weak, I know I am never alone.