Catholic Spirituality Archives - Amazing Catechists

3 Ways to Find Meaning in Your Suffering

If you’re Catholic, you’ve undoubtedly heard from someone, somewhere: “Offer it up.” It’s an unfortunate cliche nowadays, but it doesn’t have to be.

Suffering has merit if we don’t waste it. Our grief can become an immense gift not only to God but also to others. Through time, as we learn to manage our struggles with more patience and perseverance, we will learn that God has perhaps hidden something specific we can use from our experience with loss: mission.

Everyone wants a purpose in life, and we all were born with one. Yet unveiling it as we grow up and grow old doesn’t always happen clearly or smoothly. Sometimes it doesn’t happen at all.

Though God never intended for suffering, disease, sin, and death to enter into our lives, we must handle the consequences of Original Sin (thanks Adam and Eve) somehow. Jesus was the One to show us how.

Without the sin of our First Parents, we would never have needed Jesus. We wouldn’t have known Him or had the opportunity to be reconciled to Him. I wonder if we would have ever truly understood love. Through the example of Christ in His Passion, we can find meaning in our suffering, too.

Here are three ways you might come to grow as a result of whatever loss you are struggling to make sense of right now:

Discover your mission. There are enough suffering people in this world who need something that you have to offer. Maybe you understand firsthand the pain of loving someone with an addiction. You might become an addictions counselor. Or maybe your grief relates to losing a spouse slowly to the formidable death of Alzheimer’s. Your purpose might be to volunteer at a nursing home and talk with family members about what to expect or ask them questions about how they are handling the diagnosis.
Recognize that joy can exist with sorrow. In fact, you might experience both simultaneously. It’s very strange to explain, but it happens. And if it has happened to you, then you know exactly what I mean. Don’t settle for the falsehood that you have to pursue worldly, selfish “happiness” that only means doing what feels good in the moment. True joy is about sacrifice. It entails hard work, self-denial. It is a large part of your cross and could be particular to your grief journey. Be a witness to others who are in or near despair that a joy-filled life is possible!
Accompany others. Remember that healing does not occur in isolation. A beautiful and mysterious gift contained in your grief may be that you walk with someone who is in a very raw stage of emotional pain. Grief may be new to them right now. But you have been there for a while, and you know that the intensity of those emotions eventually dies down. Sit with them. Be with them. The gift of presence is the most powerful and transformative of anything else you could offer. In turn, you might discover greater healing for yourself, too.

In God there is no darkness. Let your life reflect His light, then. Place your lamp on a lamp stand instead of under a bushel basket. Don’t hide in shame because of your loss. Be authentic and sincere to others, and they will see Jesus in you.

Paraphrased from my book, From Grief to Grace: The Journey from Tragedy to Triumph.

Healing After Grief Through Divine Mercy

By Jeannie Ewing

By now, most of us have been inundated with information about the Divine Mercy devotion popularized through St. Faustina’s Diary. But have we learned about how divine mercy itself aids us through grief as a healing balm for our wounds? Probably not.

It’s easy to take care of yourself in the immediate aftermath of loss: you make sure you are fed, clean, and get adequate rest. You drink enough water. You might take a walk or sit down to read a book. But what about the condition of your soul? Certainly we are a composite of mind, body, and soul, which are all intricately interconnected.

But we cannot neglect our souls. In fact, I strongly believe that, when we don’t face our deepest inner turmoil from a spiritual perspective, we will not ever be completely healed.

How does divine mercy give us the grace to experience lasting peace and permanent healing? I am not implying that grace alone will solve all of your suffering, nor that it’s not important – necessary at times, even – to seek medical or professional help in addition to turning to your faith. What I am saying is that if you truly wish to be deeply healed, you simply cannot overlook the value of sacramental grace.

Here is a way for you to understand how divine mercy plays an integral role in grief healing:

Divine mercy is the only means by which we can be fully restored and made whole after we have incurred grave losses. It’s not His obligation, but He cannot deny us this because of love. Mercy is the way God reaches our torn and tattered hearts after betrayals and breakups (p. 125 in my book, From Grief to Grace: The Journey from Tragedy to Triumph).

If you need some practical ways to experience the power of Divine Mercy, start with these:

Frequent the Sacrament of Mercy – Reconciliation. Better yet, frequent the Sacraments of Healing together – Reconciliation and the Eucharist.
Read about God’s incredible mercy in the Psalms.
Pray to St. Faustina for a deeper understanding of how much God’s love envelops you in your pain.
Offer your misery to Jesus as a gift. His mercy will transform your heart.
Be merciful to both yourself and others. This means being more patient and kinder than necessary. Remember the quote, “Be kinder than necessary. Everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle”? Keep that in mind regarding the message of mercy.
Practice the Corporal and Spiritual Works of Mercy. Pray about which one or two God is inviting you to try rather than committing to all of them. Base your selection on your specific gifts, talents, personality, lifestyle, and the time you have.

Consider this quote from the Diary of St. Faustina (no. 1273). Read it as if Jesus is speaking directly to your heart. Ponder it throughout the week. Ask the Lord to reveal to you what it means for your particular cross right now:

There is no misery that could be a match for My mercy, neither will misery exhaust it, because as it is being granted, it increases. The soul that trusts in My mercy is most fortunate, because I Myself take care of it.

Friends, faith alone will not solve all of your ills. Neither, though, will prescriptions and therapy. Remember that your soul is the center, the wellspring of your existence. From it flows the Spring of Eternal Life. Access this spring so that you might discover true and lasting healing through mercy, as well as the other ways you care for your health.

I believe if we “seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness,” then truly “all these things will be given to you besides” (see Matthew 6:33).

Adapted from my book, From Grief to Grace: The Journey from Tragedy to Triumph.

The 6 Spiritual Principles of Moving Through Grief

By Jeannie Ewing

Grief is one of those tricky, delicate, often nebulous life phenomena that is tough to pinpoint and define. We all suffer differently, and we all experience grief in a very personal, unique way. Even so, I’ve found that there are some universal strategies – what I call “spiritual principles” – that can really aid all of us when we are seeking healing after devastating loss.

In my book, From Grief to Grace: The Journey from Tragedy to Triumph, I delve more deeply into these principles, how they work together, and what they might look like for you as you move through your grief journey. But there’s no panacea as to how you will experience each of these principles. They are intended to be guideposts, not certainties, in your spiritual journey toward healing.

The 6 spiritual principles of moving through grief are:

Humility of Heart:
- This is the foundation of all other principles, because it requires us to move from self-pity (“woe is me” attitude) toward focus on God.
- Opportunities to grow in humility tend to come in the form of humiliations; when grieving, these can include unexpected weeping to a compassionate stranger or permitting a neighbor to clean our house.
- Requires vulnerability – allowing God to tear down our emotional barricades, being transparent to others
Abandonment to Divine Providence:
- Builds upon the first principle (humility), because our hearts need to be receptive by way of humility. Pride closes and hardens our hearts.
- This receptivity allows us to move to a place in which we long to please God, even in the midst of mystery.
- Abandonment, or surrender, is acquired through acts that try one’s patience and foster perseverance.
- A person who is ready to enter into this principle has a heart and mind that is open, ready, and willing to hand over our wants and needs into God’s hands without needless worry or concern.
Holy Indifference:
- Based on the Ignatian concept that if the soul “is attached or inclined to a thing inordinately, that [person] should move himself, putting forth all his strength, to come to the contrary of what he is wrongly drawn to.”
- It is NOT apathy or indifference. It does not mean we no longer care about our circumstances, only that we surrender (second principle) our needs, cares, and concerns without expecting a specific outcome to our prayer.
- It is the third principle, because one must have begun the journey into humility and abandonment before the ability to be content with a “yes” or “no” or “not yet” answer from God to our prayers.
- Related to holy detachment
The Dark Night of the Soul (e.g., Holy Darkness):
- Focused on fidelity to God in the face of self-emptiness.
- Acquired through time, temptations, trials, and tribulations.
- Feeling as if God has forsaken or abandoned you; feeling spiritually dry or alone.
- If you’re in a state of grace (e.g., no mortal sin staining your soul, and you are staying close to the sacraments of Eucharist and Confession), then the emptiness and loneliness you feel may be this holy darkness.
- NOT the same as the darkness caused by sin or consequences of sin (including spiritual attack).
Confidence in God’s Timing:
- “Thank God ahead of time for whatever He sees is best for [you]…Courage is half the battle – confidence in God is the soul of prayer – foster the latter and you have both.” (Bl. Solanus Casey)
- In your period of mourning, when you are feeling empty, exhausted, possibly abandoned by God and others – cultivate gratitude. Think of your past and all the ways God has delivered or blessed you. Then, thank Him for what He is doing in your life that you cannot see and entrust your entire present and future into His hands (2^nd principle – surrender).
- When we thank God for our pain and sorrow, as well as our joys and celebrations, we make everything a holy gift that He, in turn, molds into a facet of healing, strength, and peace for us.
The Wound of the Heart:
- This is a mystical concept based on St. Therese of Lisieux’s spirituality: “I offer myself as a victim of holocaust to your merciful love.”
- When we pray without expectation of a certain outcome (holy indifference, 3rd principle), and when we thank God for all He is doing and will be doing in our lives (confidence/gratitude, 5th principle), then we will accept that our pain may not be taken away from us. Instead, it may be transformed into love.
- “Martyrdom of the heart” or “white martyrdom” that some saints experienced – a piercing of the heart and soul that causes a “wound of love.” In other words, our grief and suffering may become the best gift of love we can unite with the wounds of Jesus.
- This principle teaches us how to suffer well.

Adapted from my book, From Grief to Grace: The Journey from Tragedy to Triumph.

The Sinner and The Hypocrite are Not Twins

By Gabe Garnica

https://atheisttochristian.wordpress.com/2012/12/11/the-prodigal-son-reflections-on-teaching/

The Struggle Is Real

William Gurnall once stated, “While the Christian commits a sin he hates it; whereas the hypocrite loves it while he forbears it.” We have all felt the frustration of falling into sin the same day as attending Mass or praying. The truth is that we all play many positive and not so positive roles in our daily spiritual lives. If you are anything like I am, you unwittingly focus more on the negative roles than the positive ones. You may tend to beat yourself up more for the slips than celebrating the wins.

That is not what Christ is all about. Surely, he wants us to see our faults. However, Jesus also wants us to be uplifted by our accomplishments as well. In fact, one of those accomplishments can often be gaining clarity amidst our stumbles. Such was the case when I called myself a hypocrite during confession. The priest gently corrected me, pointing out that hypocrites pretend to be something they are not while sinners merely fall. Hypocrites are liars and sinners, whereas sinners are usually not liars and hypocrites. Sinners fall a lot in a feeble effort to pursue his example of love and service.

Falling Is Not Hypocrisy

Do not consider yourself a hypocrite because you are a sinner. Rather, consider yourself the beneficiary of such a loving God that your sins can be washed away by your sincere desire to improve out of love. Do not scrupulously obsess over your falls. Rather, embrace the gift of hope and immerse yourself in the sea of love and mercy which Christ offers to all of us who fall on a daily basis. The devil wants you to wallow in shame, frustration, doubt, despair, and hopelessness.

Shed yourself of these negative and self-destructive lies. Christ chose you to glorify God despite your imperfection because he knew that there was greatness beneath your falls. Remember that Saul lost an S and gained a P in his name precisely through his greatest fall and proceeded to change the world. Remember that Paul fell because God loved him and wanted his greatness to emerge from that fall. We all have greatness just waiting to be discovered through our falls.

Hypocrisy Is Conscious Pretense

The person who pretends to be impartial while secretly favoring one side over another is a hypocrite. Individuals who pretend to love animals while secretly abusing them are hypocrites. People who pretend to follow Christ while promoting everything he spoke against act hypocritically. However, a common misconception in our society, especially among those who bash Catholics and Christians in general, is to call anyone who preaches following in the example of Christ while falling far from that example a hypocrite. It is not hypocrisy to promote and aspire to a standard and conduct one fails to obtain for oneself.

One’s imperfection (which we all possess) does not, therefore, tarnish, diminish, or destroy the virtue and value of one’s message of virtue. It is hypocrisy, however, to consistently promote a message which one consciously and purposefully rejects or ignores. The sin is not in failing to live up to one’s own message or supposed standards but, rather, in consciously rejecting that message and standard for oneself while applying it to others.

Many today turn this issue into a political one, conveniently bashing opponents and defending their own side regarding hypocrisy claims. Some of these even argue that this is all about a failure to self-reflect. I suggest that we begin by separating the validity and virtue of the message from its imperfect messengers. I also suggest that we distinguish between consciously pretending to that which one is not versus merely promoting a message one often fails to uphold through one’s own imperfection.

Scriptural Perspective

Many cite the Bible which speaks on the evil of judging others and pointing imperfect fingers (Mt 7:1-5) and of seeing oneself as better than another (Lk 18:11-12). Another point is judging over small matters while ignoring much more important issues (Mt 23:23). Ultimately, hypocrisy is found where one holds different standards for oneself than others (Rm 2:21-22), boasts outwardly or does things merely for show (Mt 6:2), holds others’ imperfections as proof of their supposed inferiority, or says one thing for outward appearance while internally believing something else (Ps 12:2). Hypocrisy exists where one has no sincere intention to change and even a desire to define one’s own standards apart from God’s (Rm 10:3).

A common thread in the Bible’s views on hypocrisy is that it is insincere and self-righteous. The sinner who sincerely aspires to and promotes that which he falls short of but never stops struggling to reach is not a hypocrite. The key issues are sincere intent and attempt as well as humble reflection and admission of imperfection. Hypocrites possess outward superficiality with no intent or attempt to change.

In the course of my teaching, I am often called upon to teach students the principles of logic and reasoning. One of the most common errors in this area is thinking that a good message is faulty or useless simply because the messenger is imperfect or even contradicts the very message he or she is conveying. Smoking causes cancer whether or not the one telling us so actually smokes. If imperfection disqualified us from bringing Christ to others, all of us including all saints would have to find another purpose in life. Our Lord knew all too well that he was gathering from imperfect ranks.

The Best Teachers Are Those Who Have Fallen

One of my many hats is tutoring people on how to pass the Bar Exam. Most students are shocked when I inform them that I failed the Bar Exam three times before finally passing it! After all, they reason, why would anyone admit to failing that which they now propose to help another pass? I proceed to inform them that my stumbles are the logs from which I burn the fuel of experience. By failing, I learned what not to do as much as what is simply a waste of time.

By failing, I learned how our own warped sense of perfection actually distorts our perception of humanity, practicality, compassion, mercy, and hope. Ultimately, those who have fallen are the best teachers on how to avoid some falls. More importantly, they teach us how to fall gracefully and rise masterfully. God knows that our falls can shape our greatness if we allow them to do so.

Falling is an Opportunity, Not a Failure

It is with all of the above experiences and revelations honed through setbacks and stumbles that I slowly realized that the ultimate sin is not in falling or often failing to practice what one preaches. Rather, the worst sin of all is failing to rise after one’s falls out of a combination of despair, lack of faith, pride, shame, or simply not loving enough. Yes, you must love to get up from your falls. You must love yourself enough to believe that you can rise and aspire. You must love others enough to realize that your rises can inspire them. Above all, you must love God enough to throw all pride and shame aside.

The hypocrite and the sinner are not always one and the same. Hypocrites lie while sinners simply fall. Our world obsesses over results. Our Lord, however, favors sincere effort to overcome falls. When the world sees a fall, God sees a potential for greatness. What becomes of our falls is up to each of us. Your sin is not hypocrisy unless you stop trying to change, start judging others harshly, or start lying to yourself. The best methods to fight hypocrisy include humble acceptance of your faults and sincerity to amend your life.

2018 Gabriel Garnica

The Freedom to……………….Shoes: Reject The Comfort of Sin

By Gabe Garnica

St. Teresa of Avila once stated, “We always find that those who walked closest to Christ were those who had to bear the greatest trials.”

Shoes, Comfort, Sin, and Appearances

I recently saw a woman wobbling down the street and having great difficulty walking. The other woman she was with kept pointing to this woman’s shoes and shaking her head. Ultimately, the stumbling woman simply took off her shoes and began to walk barefoot. From what I could decipher from a distance, it appears that the woman had been sacrificing comfort for appearances. While the shoes looked great and clearly fit the rest of her outfit, they did not fit her feet and proved more trouble than they were worth.

This recent Lent provided me with many opportunities to think about comfort, sin, and appearances.

Comfort is a Relative Thing

According to St. Paul, “For there shall be a time when they will not endure sound doctrine; but according to their own desires, they will heap to themselves teachers, having itching ears. And will indeed turn away their hearing from the truth, but will be turned unto fables.” (2 Tim 4:1-4)

Our world tells us that we can never have too much comfort. After all, what rational person would ever reject a more comfortable chair in favor of an uncomfortable one? Comfort is often equated in this world with money, such that most see having a lot of money as the way to find greater comfort. In the sense, many of us would question the sanity of someone like St. Francis of Assisi, who turned his back on a great fortune to live a life of poverty and want. Having too much money or too much comfort will not get anyone in this society any sympathy.

However, comfort is a relative thing. We probably all need at least some of it to function on a long-term basis. On the other hand, too much comfort may do us as much, if not more, harm than good. Comfort tends to slip us into the mentality of forgetting God and His blessings. Comfort tends to make us complacent and lukewarm in our faith. Comfort even fools us into believing that our happiness is wholly our own doing.

Comfort is a vicious cycle into self-obsession. The more comfortable we feel, the more selfish and self-absorbed we tend to become. Content in our own convenient abundance, we tend to forget the need and suffering of others.

We need only look at Christ to remember that comfort and Christianity are often polar opposites in this world. Our Lord was born into and regularly faced poverty, rejection, and inconvenience. If we aspire to follow Christ, we must likewise aspire to, and even embrace, discomfort as the price.

Tolerance for Sin as Compromise for Comfort

Fulton Sheen said, “Tolerance applies only to persons, never to truth…or principles. About these things, we must be intolerant.”

Psychologists tell us that people tend to seek stability and consistency in their lives while instinctively pulling away from discomfort and chaos. It would be wonderful if this all meant that everyone lined up in neat lines marching toward heaven and salvation and away from the chaos of sin. However, human nature is an arrogant fool. Sadly, we find that this world increasingly views sin as sanity and rejection of sin as chaos. Charity and mercy call on us to be tolerant of the sinner, but intolerant of the sin—most especially our own.

Increasingly surrounded and enticed by sin, we often find it much more comfortable to accept, rationalize, and even embrace sin as the path of least upheaval and greater acceptance by this world. We wear the distorted shoes of sin so often that we soon see our limp as the accepted way to walk.

Reject the Appearances and Moral Fashions of this World

This society immerses itself in the notion of tolerance as a universal good without accepting the reality that not all tolerance is a good thing. What would happen if we tolerated murder, rape, and other violent crimes? Is it even rational to be a Catholic who supports abortion? Obsessed with appearances and superficial morality, we too often stumble along in shoes of sin we got in the habit of wearing.

We cannot be tolerant of sin in our lives. We must foster a personality and nature that rejects the sin that will surely come across our way with each passing day. Being weak and inconsistent human beings, we will often fall in some way during this year. Rather than spend all of our time and efforts avoiding the falls, we must dedicate a good portion of our preparation and fortitude to constructively dealing with the falls that will surely come.

Conclusion

As members of this society and world, we can all fall for the lure of acceptance, popularity, and group pressure. If we get too used to wearing the warped shoes of sin, we will eventually become so accustomed to their fit that all confession, contrition, or remorse will seem useless and unnecessary.

Lukewarm compromise and those who sold out their morals become increasingly tepid in our faith. The greatest evil and lie is feeling hopeless under the weight of our sins. Divine Mercy reminds us that Christ will always reach out to us if we reach out to him. We reach out to Our Lord by frequent confession and Communion, prayer, and good works for others.

Stop stumbling along in the distorted shoes of sin just for acceptance or the sake of appearances. Do not seek the comfort and convenience of this world over the struggles of following Christ. Embrace the discomfort of your sin as the sign that you have not compromised your faith and values. Likewise, embrace Divine Mercy as Our Lord’s promise to reach out to you as long as you find sin uncomfortable in your life. Above all, love God so much that you will always see sin as an intolerable and uncomfortable pair of shoes you simply refuse to wear.

2018 Gabriel Garnica

We Call This Friday Good

By Amanda Woodiel

I have a friend who moved to the United States some twenty years ago. Although she speaks the language fluently, she hasn’t quite lost her accent, and a colloquialism will occasionally still mystify her. That’s how I am with the Catholic church. Twelve years ago I came into the Church as a young woman. Though I feel at home here, I still stumble upon meditations that strike me as so strange that I realize I am a foreigner.

This was the first Lent since I started praying a daily Rosary, and somewhere along the way it was suggested to me that I pray only the sorrowful mysteries in Lent (except Sundays). So day after day I have meditated on the Agony, the Scourging, the Crowning with Thorns, the Carrying of the Cross, and the Crucifixion.

What has jumped out at me is the juxtaposition of these mysteries with the phrase of the Hail Mary: “Blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.”

Blessed are thou among women….said again and again as I contemplated His agony, His body slick with bloody sweat, His face in the dirt he made.

Blessed art thou among women…as I contemplated the whips tearing at his flesh, furious lashes that end only when his executioners have worn themselves out from the effort.

Blessed art thou among women…as I saw her Son humiliated, scorned, spat upon, and struck repeatedly so that the thorns of the grotesque crown impale his head.

Blessed art thou among women…as I watched Our Lady watch her son’s battered, mutilated body stumble under the weight of the cross, a spectacle to the indifferent and an abomination to the contemptuous.

Blessed art thou among women…as she stands by Him crucified, witness to His struggle to breathe, His enduring of the unfathomable torture.

Blessed is she? Blessed? What mom dreams of the day when she will stand beside her son while he is tortured? On the face of it, it seems like a mockery to repeat this over fifty times in the face of His Passion. At any rate, it is a jarring enough paradox that it gave me pause. I knew then that I am still not a native to the church.

Forty days’ meditation gave me time to reflect. That she is blessed, I believe. So, as in so many teachings of the church that I didn’t immediately grasp, it was time to dig deeper.

How can it be that Our Lady is blessed in these days of Holy Week?

We see the world upside down, so writes Father Michael Scanlan in his book Let the Fire Fall. I believe that Mary’s blessedness in the face of the Passion is the right-side-up way to view it. I need to adjust my vision.

As in so many things, I was looking at the Passion in primarily the physical sense. Material being that I am, this body is so present to me that it usually constitutes my first consideration. But what if I were to look at the Passion in primarily spiritual terms? What if I thought about it as Fr John Riccardo presents it in his meditation on the Rosary (found here)–as the world’s greatest athlete gearing up for the single most important competition in history? What if I saw the spiritual implications of the Passion first–Jesus about to save the world from the rule of Satan?

Here, Jesus, though he looks like the defeated, is actually victorious, for he, as a priest said in a meditation I once went to, had enticed the devil to do the one thing the devil could not do–kill God Himself. It was a chess match, and while it looked as though the King had been taken, he had actually set a trap that would end in checkmate against his opponent. It was a daring, heroic, stupendous, awe-some, all-in kind of plan.

Did Our Lady understand the Passion on the spiritual level–as a supernatural match for which the prize was the human soul? Spouse of the Holy Spirit, the woman who will crush the serpent under her heel, the mother of God, I imagine she herself very well may have undergone severe temptations and wrestling with the devil in her own hidden life. She must have been clued into the spiritual realm of the Passion, even if she did not fully know what would happen three days hence.

Blessed indeed was she! She saw her son undergo bodily torture, yes, but through that, she saw him win the war. She saw him, fully human as well as fully God, not recoil from the agony of body and soul but instead stand victorious in the redemption of our human nature.

That one there is my son. The one who is wrestling all of the powers of hell but who stands–bloody, yes–but triumphant. That’s my boy–the one who whose suffering gives historic and eternal witness to the profound love of God. That one hanging there is mine, the one who is willingly giving his very life to save the eternal souls of the human race. Jesus is my son. I am blessed.

Power Perfected in Weakness and Failure as a Pathway to Grace

By Lisa Mladinich

St. Paul speaks quite a bit about boasting!

In his second letter to the Corinthians, he mentions that he has been the recipient of many revelations and could well boast. After all, Jesus himself has spoken directly to Paul, on the road to Damascus. Paul is a beloved preacher and has won many souls for God. But instead of boasting of his achievements, which he recognizes as a distraction, he boasts because the Lord has permitted him to be a weak and troubled vessel. An “angel of Satan,” he says, torments his flesh.

Three times I begged the Lord about this, that it might leave me, but he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.” I will rather boast most gladly of my weaknesses, in order that the power of Christ may dwell with me. (2 Cor 12:8-9)

Here’s my weakness.

I rather casually gave up complaining for Lent, right at the last minute, because I hadn’t really given it much thought. But I know that I complain too much, so it seemed like a great idea, and honestly, I really didn’t expect it to be that hard.

But the Lord saw fit to allow me to go through a period of intense suffering that has consumed my Lent.

An old emotional wound that I thought was healed broke open and my life became profoundly dark. The pain was unrelenting and terrible. I was raw and weak. To say that I was overflowing with complaints and loss of temper is an understatement. I was a total mess for most of Lent, which got me going to confession a lot more than usual, which brought me more graces than usual.

The Crucifixion, Francisco de Zurbarán, 1627

In agony, I clung to Jesus and contemplated the cross. I was in desolation.

But that desolation is a privilege, according to the saints. Hard to accept, but it’s so revealing. I felt so intimate with Christ. One day, I looked up at the cross at Mass and the thought came to me, “He felt this. So it must be a good thing to feel.”

I didn’t get a rush of good feelings—the pain remained—but I had a deep sense of calm that I knew was His voice in my soul, and it has not left me.

And I learned something that is probably the biggest grace I’ve ever received in any Lent in all of my 58 years as a Catholic:

It was strangely empowering being so weak and so desperate.

I had nothing to boast about but the cross.

But may I never boast except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, through which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world. (Gal 6:14)

Total failure was the place where Jesus met me, this Lent. Failure cleared away all my pride and showed me that the cross could truly be a place of victory.

In the eighth century, St. Andrew of Crete wrote that the cross is “both the sign of God’s suffering and the trophy of his victory” because the cross is “the means by which the devil was wounded and death conquered.”

Chris Tomlin sings a song called, “At the Cross,” and my favorite line says that the cross is “a place where sin and shame are powerless.”

Jesus rendered my sin and my shame powerless: through the cross, through the consecration, and through reconciliation. So that when I was weakest, I received a gift that I don’t think I would have received if I were having a “perfect” Lent and feeling good about myself.

Yesterday, I was at an RCIA review session, and one of the team members was describing the moment of the consecration, at Mass, when the priest elevates the host. She told the catechumens that as we enter into the one-time sacrifice of the cross, Jesus is lifted up and offered to the Father for all of our sins, for all time.

But she added that, as baptized members of the Body of Christ, at the moment of the consecration, we too are lifted up and offered to the Father, and that bestows on us an astounding dignity.

In Holy Week, we will walk with Jesus through the failures of those he loves. Contemplate his response when the apostles all flee him and when Peter denies him three times. Jesus never stops working to save them.

Even the crucified thief, who squandered his life in sin–St. Dismas, whose feast day was today (March 25)–received the gift of paradise that very day. Why? Because, in the depths of his failure, St. Dismas recognized that he needed mercy and that Jesus was the Lord. And the response of Jesus went beyond his wildest imaginings. Paradise. THAT DAY.

My major offering for Lent was to avoid complaining. During the previous five weeks, I have complained more than I have in many years. To say that I failed is an understatement. My sin of complaint and ingratitude was magnified; it exploded and expanded and became epic in its power to color my days.

And yet, that sense of powerlessness drew me closer to God and increased my trust. At a particularly low moment, when the pain was almost unbearable, I felt God urging me to count blessings—which felt like sprinkling a thimbleful of water on a blazing fire. To turn my thoughts away from complaint and refocus on what was beautiful in my life was like walking head-on into a hurricane. I recognize that this powerful resistance within me was partly my own weakness and sin but also a sign of a spiritual battle taking place in my soul.

And yet, when I yielded grudgingly and started counting the beauty of the day, my comfortable home, my family and friends, my health—simple things—strength returned, and my mind began to clear. What had seemed unrelentingly dark faded and receded. It was like breaking a spell.

Our failures can bring us closer to God; they can make us more aware of our dependence, more ardent in prayer, and more childlike.

It is not the failure He focuses on; it is the disposition of our hearts.

Are we reaching for him? Learning from our falls? Resting in mercy?

For God so loved the world he gave his only begotten Son, that believers would not perish but would have eternal life. (John 3:16)

Our Redemption and Memory

By Gabe Garnica

As we proceed through Lent, the recurring themes of redemption and forgiveness bubble to the surface of our thoughts. We understand redemption as literally being saved from our own sinfulness through the blood of Christ. Left to ourselves, we would surely fall under the repeated weight of our imperfection and weakness. Through God Almighty’s love and mercy embodied in the Parable of the Prodigal Son, however, we aspire to a salvation we would not otherwise be capable of attaining.

A critical, core component of this second chance for salvation is the willingness of both sides to forget a sinful past. By this I mean that our redemption is possible only if both God Almighty and each of us as sinners are willing to forget our past sins.

God Almighty’s memory of our sins

God’s willingness is especially supported by a trio of scriptural references. In The Book of Hebrews (8:12) God tells us

For I will forgive their evildoing and remember their sins no more.

In The Book of Psalms (103:12) we find David’s wonderful expression that

As far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our sins from us.

Finally, in Isaiah (43:25) we find God’s powerful assurance that

It is I, I, who wipe out, for my own sake, your offenses; your sins I remember no more.

People often have difficulty with the notion of a perfect and omniscient God forgetting anything. Scholars debate whether this simply means that He chooses not to act on our past sins or that He, as all-powerful, chooses to forget. Here we must insert one of my favorite saints, St. Therese The Little Flower, who reminds us to trust God with child-like innocence immersed in love.

Our memory of our sins

Having confirmed God’s part in this dual forgetting, we must turn to ourselves. It is ironic that the same imperfection which leads us to sin likewise prevents us from forgiving ourselves for the very sins that God is willing to forgive us for! How many people avoid confession altogether out of fear or shame? How many others turn their very confessions into further sin by concealing sin? Finally, how many of us leave the confessional doubting God’s mercy?

Recall the lesson of Judas and Peter. Judas let his pride and doubt lead to hopelessness, despair, and ultimate, final surrender to the Devil after his sin. In contrast, Peter’s love of Christ overwhelmed his pride leading to humble contrition and surrender to Christ’s love and mercy. Both men’s ultimate destiny was not shaped by their respective sins but, rather, by their response to their own sin. What better example of such mercy can we find than Our Lord’s promise of paradise to the contrite thief in Calvary?

Conclusion

Scripture confirms God’s promise to forget our sinful past. The harder question as we move through Lent is how willing we are to forget that past ourselves as we reach out to a lovingly forgiving, and forgetting, God.

2018 Gabriel Garnica

What is Grief?

By Jeannie Ewing

Popular counselors tend to affirm the common definition of grief in our western culture: that it is a period of designated mourning following the death of a loved one. While this is certainly true, it is a narrow and limited understanding of what grief encompasses. Perhaps that’s why it’s so hard for most of us to recognize when we are grieving.

What I have learned, both from personal experience and in my professional background, is that grief includes any significant and devastating loss. This could be the death of your beloved pet; the sudden loss of your job; a child born with a genetic condition or disability (as in our case); a spouse who has left you; caring for an elderly parent who is suffering from dementia; struggling in the aftermath of sexual assault; recovering from PTSD as a military veteran; making ends meet as a single mother; healing after abortion; hidden sorrow from a miscarriage or stillbirth.

There are countless life circumstances that trigger our grief experiences. This is by no means an exhaustive list, but it does help to get us thinking – or rethinking – about what grief is and how it affects us when life goes in a direction other than what we’d imagined.

Here are some points to remember when you are grieving:

Any loss that is significant in your life can cause grief. You might feel sad, lost, lonely, or angry. These are some of the normal feelings associated with loss.
Change can provoke a sense of loss, too. Every change in life – moving, having a baby, getting a new job – entails both good and bad, the possibilities of what is in store as well as the loss of what is left behind.
There is no timeline for grief! Despite what others may believe, or what you might also think, grief happens on its own terms. You can neither predict nor hasten how you will experience grief.
Be gentle and patient with yourself when you are grieving. There will be days or weeks that seem more “normal” to you, but you may have what you feel are setbacks – moments of frustration, longing for what once was and is no longer, a crying spell after hearing a song.
Grief involves physical and emotional changes in your life, but don’t neglect the spiritual dimension of grief. Our faith tells us that suffering is not lost upon God when we hand it to Him with humility and sincerity. Suffering is redemptive in this way.
Find ways to process your pain. For some, this includes journaling memories or perhaps creating visual art. For others, it might be taking a walk, talking to a trusted friend or pastor, Eucharistic Adoration.

My hope is that we will shift our focus from eschewing suffering to embracing it. A wonderful devotion for those who are suffering is the Divine Mercy chaplet and novena. We would all do well to extend mercy to ourselves and others who are grieving a loss.

(Note: I will include a separate post about Divine Mercy related to grief at a later date.)

Paraphrased from my book, From Grief to Grace: The Journey from Tragedy to Triumph.

Learning to Live with Mystery

By Amanda Woodiel

The Christian worldview is chock full of mystery. How Jesus is both true God and true Man; how God is Three Persons but One Substance; how Jesus comes to us–body, blood, soul, and divinity–under the appearances of bread and wine: these are some of the great mysteries of our faith. We are steeped in these mysteries, and we are comfortable (for the most part) that our finite minds cannot fully comprehend the greatness of God. After all, some say, how much of a god is a God who is completely understood?

The mysteries of each other, however–those mysteries engender more discomfort. Whenever we hear of a tragedy intentionally perpetrated, the first question is usually “Why?” Why would someone do that? We seek to understand, because somehow understanding brings with it some measure of comfort.

But what if we can’t understand? And what if the mystery is closer to our own hearts: someone close to us who has hurt us unimaginably? When we try to sort out “why?” or “how could he?”–well, that mystery is almost unbearable.

I had always held closely a hope that when my father died, the mystery of his activities and his intentions would be solved. He passed away recently, and along with the grief of losing a parent and the shock of its suddenness, comes the grief that the mystery–instead of being revealed–has instead become more clouded and more strange.

What do we do when we must live with the mysteries of a human soul that we cannot penetrate? Clearly, I will not know more about my father’s thoughts, motivations, or activities in this life. The pieces simply don’t fit together no matter how many times I have turned them over in my mind.

When a painful mystery of life so presses upon our minds and hearts that it feels like murky waters poised to engulf us, it seems to me that we have two options. We can struggle against it, flailing our limbs in an attempt to stay upright. We can try to analyze the mystery and expend untold energy and time trying to unravel events, sort out truth, and understand the motivations of another’s heart.

Sometimes, though, we simply can’t fathom the answer. In that event, not all is lost, for we can learn to float. We can submit to our human nature. The fact is, we were not made to know all–certainly not the workings that lie at the bottom of another’s soul. We can adopt a posture of humility and lie peacefully atop the surface of the water. One way saps strength; the other preserves it. One keeps our eyes fixed on the sphere below; the other trains our eyes toward heaven.

Fortunately, truth isn’t only a set of facts but is a Person. I can choose to rest in Truth, who is Jesus Christ. Here I accept the finite nature of my human mind and yield to the God who is infinite but who loves me so completely that he came to me in history and comes to me in the Mass. I don’t understand the mystery of my father, but He does. Furthermore, if it were to my soul’s good that I unravel the mystery surrounding my dad, He would show it to me. He hasn’t yet. He might one day, but today and all days, I can rest in utter assurance that not knowing must be for my best.

When you encounter a mystery in life that cannot be solved–learn to float. You might catch a glimpse of heaven.