See Jesus through Suffering

Our elderly Frank continues to tell his story:

Sometimes, pain forces our attention on God. Not that God gives us pain, but evil, poor choices, and our broken world do. Yet, God can take our suffering and turn it into good. He might utilize a trauma to help us realize how much we depend on God, and how little we can do without Him. That’s the way it was for my son.

Daniel and I were arguing in the middle of the street. Suddenly, a car careened around the corner and skidded toward us. Daniel had his back to it and, consumed by his own anger, wasn’t paying attention. I grabbed his jacket, pushing him as hard as I could out of the way, and shouted, “God, save my son!” He was bigger than me by that age, but I firmly believe God gave me extra strength. I had succeeded in getting him out of the path of the car, but it hit me and threw me into the air. I don’t remember anything after that, until a few days later when I woke in the hospital, so the rest of this story is what my son told me.

Daniel called 911, screaming for an ambulance, not only for me, but for several members of his football team in the car, which had hit a tree after hitting me. I’m told he stayed at my side at the hospital, terrified that I would die. And maybe it was touch and go for a while there. I had broken a hip and two ribs and lay in a concussion-induced coma.

According to my son, he railed against God, demanding to know why He’d let this happen. Wasn’t it enough that he didn’t have a mother? Would God take his father, too, a father who, in my son’s words, had served God so diligently? If so, Daniel reasoned, if I died, he didn’t want to have a God that was that mean. He’d never believe in God again. He was determined to renounce his faith.

By the third day, things weren’t looking good for my recovery. The doctors had started trying to prepare him for the worst. Terrified, he realized he needed a world where miracles were possible. He needed a God who could heal. Daniel, in desperation, made a pact with God to return to his faith and become a priest if God would spare my life. Soon after that, I awoke. That timing, that answer to prayer, was more than a miracle for me. It worked miraculously in Daniel’s heart and soul, too. Little did I know that when I begged, “God, save my son,” He would save him spiritually as well as physically.

Five key players of the football team were hurt badly enough to require weeks to recover. The coach decided to forfeit the season, partially as a lesson to the whole team about underage drinking and driving, and about making choices to promote one’s health. Daniel immersed himself in his faith with his newfound time. True to his word, he returned to our morning Masses. He studied the Bible. He joined the Youth Group and would tell his story to anyone who would listen. He began to research colleges with seminary programs. He’d found his own Savior, and more importantly, his Friend. He admitted to being pretty fond of me, too, and happy to have me safe.

Betty here:

Of course, we don’t often experience miraculous deliverance from our suffering, but when we reach out to God from our pain, He answers and fills us with His Grace. He comforts and accompanies us throughout our agony. The psalmist says, “Though I walk through the valley of death, I will fear no evil, for He is at my side.” (23:4)

Jesus knows suffering. He experienced torture and death, dying to prevent us from suffering in the next life. Whenever we look at a cross, we see Jesus and can remember what He went through, for us. As children, we might have been told to “offer it up.” By joining our suffering to Christ’s, it becomes an act of love.

Here are a few other thoughts on suffering from the New Testament:

• He will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more.” (Revelation 21:4)
• And we boast in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. (Romans 5:2-4)
• Now if we are children, then we are heirs—heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in his sufferings in order that we may also share in his glory. (Romans 8:17)
• To this you were called, because Christ suffered for you, leaving you an example, that you should follow in his steps. (1 Peter 2:21)
• And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm, and steadfast. (1 Peter 5:10)

See Jesus in Ourselves

Frank, the wise elderly priest, continues to tell us how he’s come to see Jesus in his life:

One of my favorite blessings as a priest came with the honor of listening to people’s confessions. You might be surprised at that, but sharing such a sacramental moment with anyone is a gift. Sometimes people come in during confessional hours and you can tell they want to get in and out as quickly as possible. But most people, once they’ve said what they need to say, are open to the many graces God wants to shower on them. And the people who make an appointment for confession off-hours are often hungry for such grace and any spiritual counseling that I’m moved to offer.

Many people come to the confessional weighed down by guilt and feeling very bad about themselves. I listen, not for my own knowledge, but as a conduit connecting God and the parishioner. Their words, both the penitent’s and God’s, flow through me, and I frequently am amazed at how the Spirit directs my response to them. You’d think after so many years as a priest I’d be used to it, but I still often wonder, did I just say that? Where did that come from? It certainly isn’t my own wisdom, but that of the Spirit. Being used that way, for the healing of a sorrowful soul, is one of the greatest gifts of the priesthood!

I don’t want the penitent to leave while weighed down by what they’ve just told me. I want them to realize what a blessed child of God they are, so there’s a question I’ve always loved asking people before I give them their penance and send them on their way.

I say, “Tell me when you’ve been most like Jesus.” Well, usually they start telling me when they’ve been the least like Him. So, I interrupt and say again, “Tell me when you’ve been most like Him.”

I hear quite humbling answers.

One woman said, “When I overlook my husband’s little irritating idiosyncrasies and just love him as he is.”

Another said, “When I’m up in the middle of the night with my infant, and she’s crying, and I’m exhausted but I cuddle her and coo to her and rock her until she falls asleep. I think that’s what Jesus must long to do with us when we aren’t behaving. So often we misbehave because we are tired or hungry or don’t feel loved. But He’s right there holding us and loving us through the hard times.”

So much truth rests in that wise young woman’s words. But women aren’t the only ones who are Christ-like. One man told me, “My joints hurt most of the time. I’ve had severe arthritis for years, but I try not to complain. I think about Jesus and how He suffered for me, and I thank Him, and then the pain doesn’t seem intolerable.”

Another man had a hard time letting go of all the times he’d missed the mark. I had to repeat my question several times, but finally he looked up at me with tears in his eyes and said, “I’m divorced. I didn’t want it, but I am, and sadly, my ex-wife is very angry with me, so she belittles me in front of the kids. I’m most like Jesus when I resist the temptation to do the same about her. He never returned anything but good for evil. I try to remind myself of that, and I try to tell the kids about her good qualities. I don’t want them to think that whatever part of them comes from her isn’t anything but wonderful.”

The elderly man paused and looked at Pedra, who had been recording his words in shorthand as quickly as he spoke.

“How about you, Pedra,” he asked, “when have you been most like Jesus?”

Pedra looked up from her notepad, then looked down again, not wanting to meet Frank’s gaze. She could feel her cheeks burn, and her first thoughts were all the ways she wasn’t like Jesus at all. Frank let her relax into his silence and simply waited. Finally, she said, “I’m most like Jesus when I’m in this room, listening to your stories, and completely enjoying being with you. I hope He enjoys being with me, but I am absolutely sure He enjoys being with you, Frank.”

“Pedra,” Frank answered, “you have no idea how wonderful you are. And I don’t have much time left to convince you. But you are. You make me feel like there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. That’s a remarkable gift of friendship. And I promise you, Jesus loves being with you, listening to you confide in Him, sharing your friendship. He loves you, Pedra, just the way you are right now. He doesn’t need you to be perfect. He’ll aways encourage us to be better, but He also delights in who we are right now.”

She looked at the good man through tears in her eyes.

“Go home,” he said. “Talk to God. Listen to Him. Let Him show you all the ways you are wonderful.”

Betty here. What more can I say? Go home. Talk to God. Listen to Him. Let Him show you all the ways you are wonderful. He loves you, just the way you are right now. He doesn’t need you to be perfect. He’ll aways encourage us to be better, but He also delights in how we are right now.

See Jesus in yourself.

See Jesus through Forgiveness

Our story continues with Frank telling us about his young wife leaving, soon after her baby was born.

Long before I became a priest, I was a husband and a father. I remember the rush of emotions the first time I took my son into my arms. He was so tiny, so perfect. I wanted to protect him from all harm and difficulty. I wanted to always be able to surround him in an embrace and hold him close. What a miracle a child is!

Of course, parenting isn’t easy in the best of circumstances, but within a couple months of his birth, his mother Marcie had left us, called away to save the world, she thought.

I was angry—really, really angry. I couldn’t believe it. I felt like she had used me. I was just someone to leave Baby Daniel with, so she could be free of responsibility. I have to admit I was furious with God, too. Why did He let this happen? Why did He let me love her so deeply and then lose her? I had been torn between being a family man and being a priest, and it seemed Marcie had made the decision for me. Plus, I was exhausted. I tried to do all that our son needed, but with my sleep interrupted for feedings, my worry about finances, and sheer emotional devastation, I was a mess. Looking back now, I thank God that my parents were there to help me those first few months.

I never resented Daniel. That sweet little boy was the bright spot in a dark time. However, each time he cried, I thought of Marcie and grew angrier that she wasn’t here to help us. Eventually, I realized I couldn’t hold on to my anger and be a good father. Daniel would feel the tension in my arms and cry harder or see my scowl and frown in response. When I realized my hurt ran too deep to easily forgive Marcie, I began to pray, both for assistance to forgive, and for her wellbeing. Also, holding him, watching him stare at me as he drank a bottle, and eventually seeing him smile at me helped to heal the wound in my soul. Around nine months after she left, I could think about her without seething. As I watched Daniel try to toddle on his own, I imagined my “forgiveness muscles” also toddling and growing stronger.

Just when I thought I was gaining my equilibrium, my mom and dad were killed in a car accident. I could have slipped back into despair and anger with God, but He gave me the grace I needed. I know if I hadn’t done the work to forgive Marcie, my heart would have been hardened, and this next loss would have turned it into stone. With God’s help, I managed to keep going.

Betty here again.

Our faith instructs us to forgive others. We may tell ourselves we don’t need to because they aren’t sorry, they intended to hurt us, and they don’t deserve to be forgiven. But if we don’t forgive, our hearts harden. We are less able to forgive the next time we are hurt, and the next. If things don’t change, we become angry and bitter. Before long we start feeling the world is out to get us, and we see ourselves as victims. Our anger will likely cause people to avoid us, making loneliness reinforce our bitterness. We may think that THEY don’t deserve to be forgiven, but WE deserve the JOY that comes from being FORGIVERS. We deserve to have soft, merciful hearts that are slow to anger, and open to love.

The Lord’s Prayer says, “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.” (Matthew 6:12)

The New Testament reiterates:

• For if you forgive other people when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive others their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins. (Matthew 6:14-15)
• And when you stand praying, if you hold anything against anyone, forgive them, so that your Father in heaven may forgive you your sins.” (Mark 11:25)
• “Do not judge, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven. (Luke 6:37)
• Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. (Colossians 3:13)

Let it go. Soften your heart to accept grace. Pray for the ones who hurt you. Don’t allow yourself to dwell on the pain. You will see Jesus as He helps you forgive.