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.