The Charging Cable
Updated: Sep 2
“Then he said to them, ‘My soul is very sorrowful, even to death.
Remain here and watch.’”Mark 14:34
The cable lies on the table, slightly twisted from use. One end waits for the phone. The other waits for the wall.
You plug it in almost without thinking. A small light appears, or a battery symbol begins to fill. Something that was running low is quietly being restored.
There are days when you feel the same way. Not a sudden collapse. Just a slow draining that happens while you are busy with other things. You still answer. You still go where you are needed. Only later do you notice how little is left.
In the garden Jesus asked his friends to stay awake with him. They could not. Their eyes were heavy. Even the people closest to him reached the end of what they could give. The Gospel does not hide this. It tells us that the limit was real, and that Christ knew it from the inside.
Most of us know that same limit. We continue for as long as we can. Then something in us has to be given back before we can continue again. This is not a failure of faith. It is the truth of being human.
The spiritual life is not only about giving. It is also about allowing ourselves to be replenished in ordinary, almost unnoticed ways. A few minutes of silence. A short walk. A conversation that does not demand anything. Sleep. Prayer that is more rest than speech.
The liturgy itself works in this way. We do not come to Mass only to offer what we still have. We come because Christ gives himself as food. He restores what the day has spent. The quiet after Holy Communion, the sitting down, the fact that we are allowed to receive and not only to work — these are not extra decorations. They belong to the mystery. God does not only send us out. He also plugs us back into a life that is not our own.
The cable does its work quietly. It does not announce the process. It simply returns what was spent.
Tonight, when you finally put the phone down, notice the small light still glowing. Something is being restored even while you look away.
You are allowed the same grace.