See Jesus through Suffering to Joy

Imagine yourself as Jesus, sitting side-by-side with your best friends on Holy Thursday. You’ve just instituted the Eucharist as a way to stay with your friends, knowing that you’ll be physically leaving them later tonight. You’ve taken them away to pray, and you plead for strength to get through what lies ahead. You pray for your followers, the men and women whom you’ve been preparing for three years. You pray, desperately wanting to find another way, any other way, but already it has begun, and you bow to your Father’s will. One of your chosen twelve has betrayed you and led the Romans to your arrest. The soldiers come to take you to your judgment and your death. Your followers have scattered, none remaining at your side. You are stripped, beaten, scourged, and perhaps even worse, you’ve heard your Peter, your rock, deny you.

Dragging a heavy, rough-hewn cross along your final sorrowful way, on a shoulder still raw from the whip, you see the pain in the eyes of the women. You see your mother and are pierced by the same grief that pierces her heart. You are nailed to the cross, your hands and feet bearing the weight of your body on the excruciating pain of the nails. You struggle to breathe, knowing you are counting your last gasps. But you summon breath to give your mother to John and by so doing, make her mother to the world. And then you forgive the people who’ve inflicted the pain that is unbearable, so unbearable that you die.

If imagining yourself as Jesus suffering has moved your emotions, you have just seen Jesus.

Now imagine yourself, one of His followers, at the foot of the cross. You look up at Him, the One you hoped would ease your pain. And instead, He has just exhaled His last breath. Are you next to die?

Fear. Doubt. Grief. If you have known any of those emotions, any of this pain in your life, you have been at the foot of the cross and you have seen Jesus through suffering. More importantly, He has seen you. He knew then, and He knows now the pain in your heart. Whether it is emotional pain from abuse, betrayal, abandonment, guilt, or the physical pain of a broken body as yet unhealed, He saw you from the cross. He sees you now. And He knows that in long nights of anguish, or brief glimpses of His nearness, you have reached out to Him. You have found Him through pain. Perhaps seeing you, as you looked with faith to Him, eased some of His pain.

We are truly blessed to live many years after that crucifixion night. We know the hope of the resurrection—both Jesus’ resurrection and our own still to come. In that hope, we see Jesus, and not only see Him, but we are invited to live beyond the pain, to live with Him forever. Through Easter, we will see Him in joy! He sends us experiences of Joy to keep us filled with hope.

Perhaps we experience His touch of joy in nature:

• Something about green trees, untamed animals, water on the move, snowy mountains, or a star-teemed sky can make our hearts surge with thanksgiving to the Creator.
• Leaving routine behind as we travel into the wilderness holds restoration for the weary. Jesus exemplified this by going away to pray. He calls us to retreat to the desert, as well as to mountaintop experiences.
• “Beside still waters he refreshes my soul.” Psalm 23

We might experience Jesus’ joy through children:

• Holding a tiny baby and seeing one of her first smiles delights us. The miracle that we behold, as we snuggle a newborn, is a taste of the miracle of taking Jesus into our arms and loving Him with awe and thanksgiving.
• Watching a child discover new experiences refreshes our own outlook.
• Having a little one come running for comfort and being calmed with a hug or soothed on our lap lifts our hearts.
• Rocking a child to sleep brings peace to our hearts.
• Seeing a teen discover pride in a job well done we share their joy.
• Giving a daughter away to a well-chosen groom gives us hope for the future.
• Holding a new grandchild, we remember holding the parent. Such happiness!

We can find Jesus’ joy through helping others.

• There’s an old Chinese proverb, “If you want happiness for an hour—take a nap. If you want happiness for a day—go fishing. If you want happiness for a year—inherit a fortune. If you want happiness for a lifetime—help someone else.”
• “The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet.” Making the world a better place for others is one beautiful path to joy. Joy comes from using our gifts for others. — Frederick Buechner
• “Whoever is happy will make others happy.” ―Anne Frank
• “Those who are not looking for happiness are the most likely to find it, because those who are searching forget that the surest way to be happy is to seek happiness for others.” ―Martin Luther King, Jr.

Another route to joy is through gratitude. Appreciating what we have focuses us on how blessed we already are.

• “If you want to find happiness, find gratitude.” ―Steve Maraboli
• “It is not joy that makes us grateful, it is gratitude that makes us joyful.” David Steindl-Rast

But perhaps the Easter message sums up all joy as the result of Love.

• “If you keep my commands, you will remain in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commands and remain in His love. I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete. My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you.” John 15

Thank you for reading these Lenten posts. I pray they have helped you. May your Easter bring you joy and help you to see Jesus!

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.

See Jesus in Service

3 See Jesus – in Service

In our story about Frank, he begins to meet Jesus in others as he serves them. He tells Pedra, who is taking his story down in shorthand:

As I grew to be a teen, I followed the precepts of the Church, obeyed the commandments, even Jesus’ command to “love others as I have loved you.” I knew that could mean dying for others. I prayed I could have that kind of courage. But it also meant living for others, which required its own kind of bravery.

Our Youth Group focused on service to others. At first it felt awkward, going to help people. I thought they might be embarrassed by the contrast between their need and our privileged lives, but most of them were truly grateful. We sorted clothes at a local St. Vincent de Paul and were encouraged to converse with those who shopped there. We ran food drives in our neighborhoods. Later we distributed groceries to shelves at the local food bank or boxed up supplies to be delivered to families. We helped manage the lines of people indoors, or the cars outdoors, as people drove up trying to help their food budget reach the end of the month.

Other times we visited nursing homes for the elderly, and we’d sing some old-time songs or simply spread out and visit with the residents. I learned to admire the kind people who worked in the homes every day, whether cleaning up after accidents, helping with showers, or being cheerful and patient when the residents weren’t. Some folks there felt forgotten and abandoned and their hurt could turn to anger. Once, though, I saw one of the crankiest old men turn into a baby-talking cuddler when a therapy dog nudged his hand for a pet. I think we all need a little nudge out of our self-pity occasionally.

In December we would arrange and throw a Christmas party for foster kids. We’d each pick a toy for someone whose name we’d drawn, but we’d also raised money so each child could take home a suitcase or duffle bag for the meager possessions that travelled with them from home to home. Seeing those kids and hearing some of their stories sure made me grateful for my parents. We didn’t have a lot of money, but we did have lots of love. I grew up with a sense of security that those kids might not ever have known. I still pray for foster kids and that truly good people will be inspired to become foster parents.

Later, after my first year of college, one of my professors found me a part-time job at a homeless shelter. I did some cleaning and cooking, but mostly I listened to stories and offered friendship to the friendless. Like Mary and Joseph who fled to Egypt with their newborn Son, some of the guests were immigrants. Some were down on their luck and had lost their homes. Some were addicted to drugs or alcohol or both. But they all needed to be listened to, to be treated with dignity, to be fed and clothed and sheltered. Those people taught me so much. I learned how little in life is really necessary; how relationship is everything. I learned how Jesus was able to hug the lepers. These folks were just as outcast as lepers, so I figured they were His people. It wasn’t always easy, but I occasionally succeeded at seeing Jesus in them.

One man came in every day for the noon meal. He always wore a tee shirt and jeans, much like most of the men there, but he looked more clean-cut than others. It took me a couple of weeks working there to notice that he moved around the diners chatting here and there, and occasionally took one or another of them into a separate room. I asked my supervisor about it, and he said, “Oh, you must mean Doc. He comes to bandage a blister, offer an antibiotic when something is infected, or encourage a person to go to the free health clinic for more care. I even saw him stitch up a knife wound once.”

I asked if he really was a doctor. My boss shrugged his shoulders. “Who knows,” he said. “But he knows his stuff. He never asks for anything more than his lunch, and the people trust him. He’s one of the good guys.”

Those words made me want someone to say that about me someday. “He’s one of the good guys.” Or even more to the point, I wanted to hear God say, on my judgment day, “Well done, you good and faithful servant. What you did for the least of these, you did for Me.”

Betty here: We all want to hear those words on our own judgment day, when we will see God face to face. Whether through service to the poorest of the poor, to our family and friends, or to the people God places in our lives, whatever we do for the least of these, we do for Him.