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Imagine having to meet secretly in underground catacombs to celebrate the Eucharist. Such was the plight of Christians in the Third century under the persecution of emperor Diocletian. Imprisonment and even death could be the punishment for anyone discovered to be a Christian.
One day, as the bishop was about to celebrate Holy Mass in one of the catacombs, he received a letter from Christian prisoners requesting he send them the Eucharist. As soon as the Mass was over, the bishop asked who would be willing to carry out this dangerous task. Young Tarcisius—an altar server—stood up and said, “Send me.” The bishop thought the boy was too young, but Tarcisius convinced the bishop that nobody would suspect him precisely because he was just a boy. All the Christians knew of Tarcisius’—a boy with deep love for Jesus in the Eucharist, and so the bishop accepted the boy’s offer.
The Blessed Sacrament was carefully wrapped in linen cloth and placed in a small case which Tarcisius hid within his tunic, just over his heart. On the way, he passed a group of his schoolmates who called to him to join their games, but Tarcisius refused saying he was in a hurry. Seeing that he was holding something close to his breast, they became curious and together tried to pull away his hands.
As they struggled, one of the boys heard him whisper “Jesus” and cried out to the others: “He is a Christian. He is hiding some Christian mystery there.”The boys struck him and kicked him fiercely to make him loosen his grip. When a man passing by heard that the boy was a Christian, he gave a cruel blow that threw him to the ground. Just then a soldier dispersed the attackers, lifted Tarcisius onto his arms and hurried off to a quiet lane.
Tarcisius opened his eyes and recognized the soldier as a Christian whom he had often met in the catacombs.
“I am dying,” he said, “but I have kept my God safe from them.” And he handed his precious treasure to the soldier, who placed it reverently inside his tunic. “Carry Him to the prison for me,” said Tarcisius, and with a gentle sigh he fell back into the soldier’s arms. His little soul was already with God for whom he so willingly had given his life.
Jesus said, “No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” Young Tarcisius as a boy martyr of the Eucharist gave his life for the Friend of friends, Jesus the Lord.
Shalom Tidings
It’s time to let go & let God take over your life I’m a 76-year-old cradle Catholic who grew up in an inter-church household with a Catholic mother and an Anglican father, so I never had the problem of the Orange and the Green. I am a European Chartered Engineer who accepted Jesus quite late in life. Born during a time when the Catholic Church still demanded children of mixed marriages be baptized and brought up in “the faith,” I attended Catholic schools, learned about the sacraments, and duly made my first Confession and received First Holy Communion and Confirmation. I was even an altar server and remained a dutiful Catholic living at home until I left school and started an apprenticeship with a major electronics company. The apprenticeship led to a new job in a new town. After moving away, I started experiencing doubts about God and religion. Though I attended Mass regularly, I remember confessing that I thought I was losing my faith. The priest told me to pray about it. This I did badly, as I thought at the time. Turning Point Eventually, I fell in love with and married an Anglican woman. Life went on. Pauline and I had two boys who were baptized Catholic, and I continued being the same old “dutiful” Catholic I had always been. In 1989 I attended the Renew program at our parish. This was to become a major milestone in my pilgrimage to the Lord. Through this program I learned the importance of loving myself, for if you can’t love yourself how can you love anyone else? Three years later, members of the parish ran a Life in the Spirit seminar, like the ALPHA program but without the pasta. I joined up because I wanted to do something to improve my prayer life. I didn’t have a clue as to what I was letting myself in for. During the penultimate evening I was prayed over for the baptism in the Holy Spirit although at the time I did not understand what this meant. Afterwards, standing in line for refreshments, I knew something important had happened. The next day I was spiritually at 30,000 feet and it took me several days to come back to earth! I had become a Christian! I dusted off the Bible my wife had given me and I discovered the Word of God. This was the start of the disappearance of my lingering doubts about God. When I joined the parish prayer group I found strange people called Charismatics and struggled to make sense of their praying and singing in tongues. I told God I was not sure about this tongues business and then discovered the Lord’s mischievous sense of humor when shortly afterwards I received the gift myself. Clearing the Mist The Lord also revealed why I had been given the gift. My analytical mind often gets in the way of prayer, so the Lord gave me the gift of tongues to allow me to short circuit my mind and pray from the heart. My faith has become stronger and deeper. I am a reader at Mass and feel honored to be able to proclaim God’s word. I still find it difficult to pray, so the Lord again manifested his humor by seeing to it that I became the Intercessory Prayer Group Leader for a group of Christians from many Dunfermline Churches who feel drawn to “do something about the homeless.” Since these experiences, I have experienced an almost complete healing of bad memories I have carried since childhood. I say ‘almost’ because I realize that, like Saint Paul, I have been left with a thorn in the flesh to guard me from the sin of pride. We all receive the gifts of the Holy Spirit at our baptism and should unwrap them at our Confirmations. But I didn't unwrap mine until my renewal some 30 years later. Since then, the Lord has made use of my gifts of discernment, prophecy, and healing. God has also disabused me of the false notion that focusing on Jesus would be disloyal to the Father. I had always felt close to the Father and the Spirit, but now Jesus has been revealing himself to me as my brother and friend. Spiritually, I am not the same person I was thirty years ago. Yes, I get tired, worried, and frustrated. I am only human. However now I feel a deep inner peace regardless of what is going on at the surface. It was God who took the initiative in my life to bring about these changes. I only had to cooperate with his grace. I thank you Father for the Gift of Your Son Jesus, my redeemer, and Your Holy Spirit without whom I can do nothing. As I continue my journey of life, may I always remember that You are with me at all times. Amen.
By: David Hambley
MoreHeard about World Youth Day? Sister Jane M. Abeln prods you to take a chance and experience this unbelievable celebration that brings Heaven to earth From the day Pope John Paul II appeared as the new Pope with the words, “Be not afraid!”, I greatly admired and followed him. He inspired my work with youth, for whom he had a special charism. In 1984 and 1985, he issued a special invitation for youth to join him in Rome on Palm Sunday. This was so successful that he expanded it into a “World Youth Day” (or rather week) which now occurs in different nations around the world every two years. A Polish-born journalist shared a marvelous insight into how Pope JPII evolved the idea of World Youth Days. “In Communist Poland, he had to find ways of helping Catholics express their faith. Every year, he organized pilgrimages to Jasna Gora (Shrine of the Black Madonna), for August 14-15. He discovered how greatly these built relationships and strengthened faith in his people.” Although I am no longer a youth or young adult, God in His Providence made it possible for me to attend the North American World Youth Days. World Youth Day is designed for the 16-35 age group, but priests, religious, families and older chaperones are also welcome. With less than a year to go for the August 1-7, 2023 World Youth Day in Lisbon, Portugal, I share my experiences to inspire you to join the pilgrimage, to support others to attend and to join them in prayer. WYD 1993, Denver, Colorado, USA With Pope John Paul II coming to Denver in 1993 for the first World Youth Day in the USA, I began planning a local event in our archdiocese to tie in with it. When it fell through, I read about a surplus “packet” offered by Salesians at a bargain price, which included the round trip flight and hotel, and arranged to go with a local youth group. The motto of Denver World Youth Day was: “I have come to bring you life—abundant life” (John 10:10).We felt it enfolding us from the very moment we arrived to hear the airport filled with the joyful sound of young adults singing to the Lord in languages from around the globe. That continued through the catechetical days. The cheerful enthusiasm of the young people and their chaperones was like a foretaste of Heaven as they laughed, shared meals, smiles and deep conversations. Wherever they went, they sang, danced and chanted while they waved their banners and flags in the streets. Grace flowed as people flocked to receive the Sacrament of Reconciliation, pray around the clock at Eucharistic Adoration and gather for reverent, prayerful Masses. When Pope John Paul arrived, he was greeted by applause and animated voices chanting, “John Paul II, we love you.” The culminating World Youth Day began with a pilgrimage on foot to the venue of the final Mass. Pilgrims could walk 15 miles, or take the trolley and walk just 3 miles. I chose the latter on the 90ᵒ F day, but after Vespers service with the Holy Father, the field at Denver’s mile-high site dropped to 40ᵒ. Although I nearly froze because I didn’t bring the warm clothing advised, I was entertained by the Spanish and French youth who danced all night. The dawning of a new day, returned warmth to our bodies as we emerged from our sleeping bags to prepare for the final Mass. This was so beautiful that tears of joy streamed from my eyes as I prayed in union with so many young people filled with hope for the future. In a riveting homily to the millions gathered before him, Pope John Paul II challenged us to be active in promoting a “Culture of Life” to counter the devastation being wreaked by the “Culture of Death” which promotes contraception, abortion, euthanasia, divorce, despair and suicide. This call would inspire the formation of many new apostolates including “Crossroads” which began at the Franciscan University of Steubenville, and has expanded into annual pro-life summer pilgrimages in 3 countries, publicly witnessing to the communities they pass through, as they make prayerful sacrifice for them. WYD 2002, Toronto, Canada In 2002, I was blessed to be sponsored to attend Pope John Paul II’s final World Youth Day in Toronto, Canada. Although the Pope was now bent with age, and shaking with Parkinson’s disease, he still had the capacity to invigorate and inspire a new generation to carry on the mission. Although Sunday started with a downpour, I clung to a hope that it would clear. The Gospel came from Matthew 5. Just as the words, “You are the light of the world,” (Mt 5:14) rang out through the stadium, the sun broke through the clouds. The Pope’s homily came straight from his Shepherd heart: “Jesus Christ is the Light in the world’s great darkness. Don’t get caught in the darkness. Although I have lived through much darkness…I have seen enough evidence to be unshakably convinced that no difficulty, no fear is so great that it can suffocate the hope that springs eternal in the hearts of the young.” He directly addressed the sex-abuse scandal that had just broken out: “Don’t be discouraged by sins of darkness, even in priests and religious. BUT [he shouted] remember the many good priests and religious whose only desire is to serve and do good.” He encouraged the youth to follow religious and priestly vocations—“the royal road of the Cross” on which, in difficult times, “the pursuit of holiness becomes even more urgent.” Many vocations were born that year. When our Holy Father announced the next site as 2005 in Cologne, Germany, he added, “Christ will meet you there.” My heart skipped a beat and tears filled my eyes, because he usually said, “I will meet you there.” I knew, we all knew, that he knew his final days were at hand. 2005 and beyond In August 2005, I sat with my dying Dad watching on television as Pope Benedict sailed down the Rhine River to meet the world’s youth in Cologne. It amazed me to realize that the Pope who succeeded Pope John Paul II was a native of the country already chosen for the next World Youth Day! A similar thing happened in 2013. As youth from every continent, except Antarctica, prepared for World Youth Day in Rio de Janiero, Brazil, Pope Benedict resigned, and was succeeded by Pope Francis from the continent already chosen. Pope Benedict and Pope Francis both totally embraced the legacy of their predecessor and World Youth Day continues to inspire youth to follow the path of holiness. WYD 2023, Lisbon, Portugal Young people from all over the world are now planning to travel to Lisbon for the next World Youth Day. The host country is planning for Days in the Diocese across Portugal for youth to experience their culture, and they have an enticing program packed with talks, workshops, and events from some of the Church’s best preachers, musicians, and artists. Local families, schools and parishes are preparing to accommodate the many young pilgrims. The Sacrament of Reconciliation and Eucharistic Adoration will be everywhere and teams are already praying for the expected visitors. Pilgrimage groups are forming in nations around the world, and parishes are fundraising to assist their youth to attend. If God is calling you there, He can help you get there, and sustain you on life’s journey. It’s one of the treasures of the Catholic Church in our time. (See your diocesan website, and YouTube and Facebook for the official promo, song in 5 languages, logo, and scenes). Those who can’t attend can participate in some events via social media, and pray in union with the pilgrims.
By: Sister Jane M. Abeln SMIC
MoreAs a young drug addict, Jim Wahlberg felt despised and forgotten by the world…until God spoke to him through a special person! Read his inspiring story of redemption I grew up Catholic, but more in the Catholic tradition than the Catholic faith. I was baptized and made my first Holy Communion. My parents sent us to church, but we didn’t go to Sunday Mass as a family. There were 9 children in my family, so anybody who was old enough to walk to church, walked to church. I remember the feeling of not belonging: the few times I went to church I would take the bulletin, and then go off to do something else. Then I stopped going altogether. Most of my siblings did the same. Nobody ever told me that Jesus died for me or that God loved me or that the Virgin Mary would intercede on my behalf. I felt I wasn’t worthy, that the people in the pews were better than me and that they were somehow judging me. I was starving for attention and acceptance. Chasing Acceptance When I was 8 years old, I saw the neighborhood kids drinking beer. I forced myself into their little group and convinced them to give me some. I didn’t become an alcoholic that day, but I got my first taste of acceptance and attention from the older, ‘cool’ kids. I was instantly hooked on the attention and continued to hang around the people that were drinking, doing drugs or smoking, because I found acceptance there. I spent the rest of my adolescence chasing that attention. I grew up during the forced integration of the Boston public school system, so every year I was put on a bus and sent to school in a different neighborhood. I attended seven different schools during my first seven years of grade school, which meant each year I started over as “the new kid”. God was completely out of the picture. The only relationship I had with God was one of fear. I remember hearing over and over that God was going to get me, that He was watching, and that He was going to punish me for all the bad things I was doing. A Lost Little Boy On the Friday night of my last day of 7th grade, I was getting ready to go out when my dad turned to me and said, “Don’t forget, when those streetlights come on, you better be in this house, or else don’t bother to come home.” That was his threat to make sure I followed the rules. I was a 12-year-old boy hanging out with other 12-year-old kids that were all from broken homes. We were all drinking beer, smoking cigarettes, and doing drugs. Later that night, when I looked up and saw the streetlights come on, I knew I wasn’t going to make it home. Since I would be late, going home wasn’t an option, so I spent that entire summer down the street, a mile or two away from home, hanging out with my friends. We did drugs and drank alcohol every day. I was just a lost little boy. During that summer, I was arrested a few times and became a ward of the state. It was not long before I was no longer welcome at home. I was placed in foster care, group homes and juvenile detention centers. I was homeless and completely lost and alone. The only thing that filled the emptiness was the alcohol and drugs. I would consume them, and then pass out or go to sleep. When I woke up, I would be filled with fear, and I would need more drugs and alcohol. From age 12 to 17, I was either homeless, or living in someone else’s home, or in juvenile detention. Shackled and Broken At 17 I got arrested again for injuring someone. I ended up being sent to the state prison on a 3-to- 5-year sentence. I found myself fighting the same inner battle as when I was younger, struggling for attention and acceptance, trying to create an illusion. I served the full five years of my sentence. At the end of the prison term, they said I could go home, but the problem was I had no home to go to. An older brother was kind enough to say, “You can stay with me until you get on your feet.” But that would never happen. My brother picked me up at the prison to take me to see my mom. But first we stopped for a drink at a bar in my old neighborhood. I had to have a drink, before I could see my mom. It was my first legal drink, since I was now over 21. When I sat at my mother’s kitchen table, she didn’t recognize me as her child; she felt I was stranger. I had been out of prison for approximately six months before I was arrested again for house invasion. The house I broke into belonged to a Boston police officer. In court, the officer spoke on my behalf. He said, “Look at this kid, look at his condition. Why don’t you get him help? I don’t know if prison is the right place for him.” He showed me sympathy because he could see I was a full-blown drug addict. Suddenly I was back in prison serving a six-year sentence. I did all I could to create the illusion that I was changing my life so the police would release me early to rehabilitation. But I didn’t need rehabilitation—I needed God. The Road to Freedom After a few months of putting on this show of transforming my life, the prison chaplain, Father James, took notice of me and offered me a job as a custodian in his chapel. My first thought was, “I’m going to manipulate this guy”. He smoked cigarettes, drank coffee, had a phone—all things that inmates don’t have access to. So, I took the job, ulterior motives and all. But what I didn’t know was that he also had a plan. When he approached me, his goal was to hustle me just as much as I was planning to hustle him. But his manipulation was for the glory of God. He wanted to get me back to Mass, back to the foot of the Cross. Soon after I started working in the chapel, I asked for a couple favors from Father James. When he granted my requests, it felt like my manipulation was working. One day, however, he approached me and told me he wanted me to come and clean after the Saturday Vigil Mass so that the chapel would be ready for Sunday Mass. When I offered to come after Mass, he insisted I come beforehand and stay through the Mass. He was already pushing me in the direction of faith. A Divine Appointment At the Mass, I felt awkward and uncomfortable. I didn’t know the prayers or when to sit or stand, so I watched what everyone else was doing to get by. Soon after, Father James officially hired me for the custodian job, and told me we would be having a special guest at the prison, “Mother Teresa.” I said, “Oh that’s amazing! Who is Mother Teresa?” Looking back, I probably didn’t even know who the President of the United States was at the time; my life revolved solely around consuming alcohol, and I rarely concerned myself with people and events outside my bubble of addiction. Soon, Mother Teresa arrived at our prison. I remember seeing her in the distance and thinking, “Who is this person that all of the dignitaries, the warden, and the prisoners are swarming around, hanging on her every word?” Pulling closer, I noticed that her sweater and shoes looked a thousand years old. But I also noticed the peace in her eyes, and the money that filled her pockets. People often gave her money knowing she would give it to the poor.Since I worked at the chapel, I was blessed to be part of the entrance procession for the Mass with Mother Teresa. Prisoner that I was, I stood surrounded by the Cardinal, other dignitaries, and sisters from her order. The Cardinal invited Mother Teresa to sit at the altar with him, but she humbly declined, and with a reverent bow, went and knelt on the floor with some of the most dangerous criminals that I had ever met in my life. Gazing Into God’s Eyes As I sat on the floor, I caught her eye and I felt as though I was looking at God. Mother Teresa then ascended the altar steps and spoke words that touched me deeply, words that I had never heard before. She said that Jesus died for my sins, that I was more than the crimes I had committed, that I was a child of God, and that I mattered to God. In that moment, in that stillness, I felt as though there was no one else in the room, as though she was speaking directly to me. Her words reached a deep part of my soul. I ran back to the chapel the next day and told Father, “I need to know more about the Jesus that she was talking about, the God and the Catholic faith that she was talking about.” Father James was delighted! He had me right at the foot of the Cross where he had wanted me ever since he offered me the custodian job. I was willing to do anything to learn more about Jesus, so Father James started preparing me for my Confirmation. We met every week, studying the Catechism to learn about the faith. Though I was twice transferred to other prisons, I connected with the priests in those prisons as well, and was able to continue growing in my faith. A New Beginning A year later, it was time for me to make my formal commitment to my faith. My Confirmation was a thoughtful and intentional moment in my life. As an adult, I knew this was a major step that would set me on the road to a deeper relationship with Jesus Christ When the time came, I called my mom to tell her I was going to be confirmed, and that I would love for her to be there. She had promised she would never visit me in prison, so she was wary. After all that I had put her through, she was wounded as a mother. But when I called again a couple of days later, she agreed to come. The Confirmation day was monumental. It was not only significant for me and my walk with Christ, but also for my relationship with my mother. The following year, it was time for me to stand before the parole board. They said they had a letter from my mother she had written on my behalf. I knew my mother would never lie to the authorities to get me out of prison. Her letter read, “Before you stands a man of God. It’s okay, you can let him go now. He won’t be back.” Those words meant everything to me. By the time my mother passed away, she had dementia. Over the years she had lost her ability to tell stories and her world became small. But even in those moments when she was most in the grip of dementia, she was able to recall my Confirmation, the moment when she knew I was saved. Jesus Christ is my Savior, and I feel His presence in my life. While it requires work and effort, my relationship with Jesus is the most important one in my life. He will always love me and support me, but unless I fully engage in the relationship, I won’t know the comfort and love He longs to share with me. It is an honor to share my journey. Jesus Christ is our Savior.
By: Jim Wahlberg
MoreThe Question of Why Physicist Christian Simon, 33, was an atheist for a long time and expected answers to all of life's pressing questions from science— until he came up against its limits I grew up Catholic, received all the sacraments as is customary, and was also quite devout as a child. Unfortunately, over time I developed a terribly false image of God: God as a stern judge who throws sinners into hell, but otherwise very distant and not really interested in me. I doubted very much that God meant me well. In my youth, I even became more and more convinced that God had something against me. I imagined that He always did exactly the opposite of what I had asked Him to do. At some point it was over for me. I didn't want to know anything more about God. Religion—A Thing for Weirdos At the age of about 18, I was convinced that there was no God at all. For me, only what I could experience with my senses or what could be measured by the natural sciences counted. Religion seemed to me to be only something for weirdos who either had too much imagination or were simply totally indoctrinated and had never questioned their faith. I was convinced that if everyone were as smart as I was, no one would believe in God anymore. After a few years of self-employment, I started studying physics at the age of 26. I was burningly interested in how the world works and hoped to find my answers in physics. Who could blame me? Physics can seem very mysterious with its incredibly sophisticated mathematics that very few people in the world understand. It's easy to get the idea that if you could just crack these coded forms and symbols, unimagined horizons of knowledge would open up—and that literally anything would then be possible. After studying all sorts of subfields of physics, and even getting to grips with the most up-to-date fundamental physics, I sat down to work on my master's thesis on an abstract theoretical topic—one which I wasn’t convinced would ever have any relation to the real world. I finally became very aware of the limits of physics: the highest goal physics could ever reach would be a complete mathematical description of nature. And that is already very optimistic thinking. At best, physics can describe how something works, but never why it works exactly the way it does and not differently. But this question about the why was tormenting me at this time. The Probability of God For reasons I cannot satisfactorily explain, I was gripped in the fall of 2019 by the question of whether there is a God after all. It was a question I had asked myself on and off, but this time it wouldn't let me go. It demanded an answer, and I would not stop until I found it. There was no key experience, no stroke of fate that would have led to it. Even Corona was not an issue at that time. For half a year I devoured everything I could find on the subject of "God" every day. During this time I did almost nothing else, so much did the question captivate me. I wanted to know if God existed and what the various religions and worldviews had to say about it. In doing so, my approach was very scientific. I thought that once I had collected all the arguments and clues, I would eventually be able to determine the probability as to whether God existed. If it were greater than 50 percent, then I would believe in God, otherwise not. Quite simple, isn't it? Not really! During this intense period of research, I learned an incredible amount. First, I realized that I would not reach my goal with reason alone. Second, I had thought through to the end the consequences of a reality without God. I inevitably came to the conclusion that in a world without God, everything would ultimately be meaningless. Certainly, one can try to give meaning even to one's life, but what would that be but an illusion, a conceit, a lie? From a purely scientific point of view, we know that at some point in the universe all the lights will go out. If nothing exists beyond that, what difference do my small and large decisions, indeed anything at all, make? Faced with this sad prospect of a world without God, I decided in the spring of 2020 to give Him a second chance. What could it hurt to just pretend to believe in God for a while, and try everything that people who believe in God do? So I tried praying, attended church services, and just wanted to see what that would do to me. Of course, my basic openness to the existence of God didn't make me a Christian yet; after all, there were other religions. But my research had quickly convinced me that the resurrection of Jesus was a historical fact. For me, the authority of the Church as well as the Holy Scriptures follows from this. Proof of God So, what came out of my experiment in "faith"? The Holy Spirit awakened my conscience from its years of hibernation. He made it very clear to me that I needed radically to change my life. And He welcomed me with open arms. Basically, my story is in the biblical parable of the prodigal son (Luke 15:11-32). I received the sacrament of reconciliation for the first time with all my strength. To this day, after each confession, I feel as if I have been reborn. I feel it all over my body: the relief, the overflowing love of God that washes away all cloudiness of the soul. This experience alone is proof of God for me, as it far exceeds any scientific attempt at explanation. In addition, God has gifted me with a plethora of great encounters in the last two years. Right at the beginning, when I started attending church services, I met a person who was just perfect for me in my situation at that time with all my questions and problems. To this day he is a faithful and good friend. Since then, almost every month great new people have come into my life, who have helped me enormously on my way to Jesus—and this process is still going on! "Happy coincidences" of this kind have accumulated to such an overwhelming extent that I am no longer able to believe in coincidences. Today, I have fully focused my life on Jesus. Of course, I fail at it every day! But I also get back up every time. Thank God that God is merciful! I get to know Him a little better every day and am allowed to leave the old Christian Simon behind. This is often very painful, but always healing and I go on strengthened. The regular reception of the Eucharist contributes a great part to my strengthening. A life without Jesus is unimaginable for me today. I seek Him in daily prayer, praise, Scripture, service to others, and the sacraments. No one has ever loved me as He does. And to Him belongs my heart. For all time.
By: Christian Simon
MoreIf you open your heart today, you can change the world! Daniella Stephans describes her incredible journey of finding love that never ends I was a cradle Catholic, growing up in the heart of a Catholic family with 7 children. We went to Mass regularly and I felt drawn to learn more about my faith, to imitate the saints and felt attracted to the beautiful images which spoke to me about the presence of the Lord. He planted the seed of love into my life from a young age. When I was given the choice in my teens, I continued to go to Mass, even when some of my siblings didn’t, out of simple obedience. I always wanted to do the right thing and never wanted to get in trouble. I didn’t want to disappoint my parents and I knew it was a sin to deliberately miss Mass on Sundays. However, I never really understood what was going on. I was just ticking off boxes through the different parts of the Mass. Although I felt that God was close to me, I didn’t know Him personally and still felt a gaping, throbbing hole in my heart. When I was really busy during the week, I didn’t have time to worry about it, but on weekends, I felt consumed by this deep loneliness. Falling in Love I was at the age, where I felt attracted by all that the material world had to offer, so I tried to solve my problem by drinking and going out to parties with friends, but that gaping hole remained unfilled. I felt rejected, lonely and disappointed. Although I wanted to be free to do my own thing, I was battling with my conscience which was telling me that so much of what I wanted to do was wrong. God hadn’t made me for that. I read in the Bible about Jacob wrestling with an angel and I could really relate to that. As I was praying about all this at Mass one Sunday, I realized that I was in self-denial. God had a better plan for the life that He wanted me to live. Gazing up at a statue of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, I could sense that He was knocking on the door to my heart, asking to come in, but I was too scared to accept this amazing gift because I feared that Jesus would come in and take away my freedom. Until that moment, it was fear of getting in trouble that had kept me from worse sins. Then, somehow, by the grace of God, I found myself saying, “Right, Lord, I’ll give you a chance.” In that moment, I looked up and for the first time noticed a picture of Jesus being baptised. He looked so strong humble and gentle. Instantly my heart changed. The fear melted away, the gaping hole was filled with incredible warmth and I fell in love with Jesus. This moment changed everything. I walked out of church feeling alive. I felt like the woman who touched the hem of Jesus’ garment and was healed instantly, freed of all my pain. I had been scared that if I let him into my heart, He would take away my freedom, but I was wrong. The cleft in the rock in which God placed Moses is analogous to the hole pierced in the side of Christ. I felt that Christ had pulled me into His Sacred Heart where I could be kept close and protected and He could talk to me as a friend speaks to a friend, just like Moses when he spoke with the Lord. The Dark Hole The more I sought out personal encounters with the Lord at daily Mass and Adoration, the closer I felt to Him. So, I studied Theology and as I came to know God more intimately, He revealed Himself to me even more, even in times of tragedy, like my brother’s death. At the time, I was struggling with finding my identity after finishing my studies and feeling fearful of the future. I couldn’t feel His presence anymore and wondered if God had abandoned me. I knew all the words Jesus had said, “I am the Way, the Truth and the Life... I am the Resurrection and the life.” but now my belief was being tested. Was it all true? In the silence as I sat in my brother’s room, gazing at his empty bed, I remembered how Jesus had told Martha, “Your brother will rise again,” and felt that He was saying those words to me. When I went to World Youth Day, I felt a bit lost in the huge crowd. As I looked out around at all these people, I asked Jesus, “Lord, how do you love all these people and love me as well?” God showed me how He saw each one as an individual with whom He has a personal relationship. God gazes on each one of us with a unique and individual love. He loves you like no-one else, because there is no-one else in the world like you. God loves you uniquely, personally and individually. There is no-one from Adam to the end of time who has ever been exactly like you. So, when you feel His love personally, He sees you as the unique individual you are, in a way that no-one else can. He gave Himself up for each one of us. When He was on the Cross, He was thinking about each one of us personally by name. Banishing My Fears Jesus showed me that my image of the Father had been flawed. I had felt that God was condemning me, that I was in trouble. I feared His justice, but I was wrong. Jesus came into the world to reveal the Father’s love for us in His plan for our salvation—to heal the rift between God and Man by living among us. He even told us that if we had seen Him, we had seen the Father. He showed me that gaping hole in my heart was meant to be filled by God, and when I let Him in, He set me free indeed. We are made by God and for God, so when I invited Him in, He filled me with His warm and loving presence, banishing the depression and restlessness which had been troubling me. When we try to fill that God-shaped hole with other things, they all fall short, because He is infinite and irreplaceable. It reminded me of how we are warned that "putting the wrong fuel in a vehicle can cause havoc to your journey and potentially cause extensive damage to your car engine.” Your heart is your engine and it needs the right fuel to prevent the damage that sin causes. Daily Mass, regular Confession, prayer, Adoration, Bible reading and faith study, and a deeper relationship with Our Lady have been the fuel that has restored my heart and given me the grace to live my life in personal encounter with God. He called me to go deeper. Although it’s sometimes painful to take up my cross and follow Him daily, He has led me through trial and temptation and expanded my capacity to receive and share His love. Amidst Your Struggles Every day, the Enemy, Satan is trying to discourage us and turn us from God’s love. He doesn’t want us to know and experience what God has to offer. He stiffens our pride so that we are unwilling to bend to God’s will. When we feel broken by the pain that sin causes us, we delude ourselves into thinking that God doesn’t love us. Saint Therese said that Satan’s strategy is to dismantle and demolish our belief that God can love us when He is perfect and we are so imperfect. Does God really love me when I’m struggling? One night, Jesus left His disciples struggling all night against the wind while He prayed on a mountain, but in the morning they saw Him walking toward them across the water. When you are going through difficult times, the Lord is there in the midst of your struggle. He also says to you, “Do not be afraid.” And when we feel ourselves sinking, like Peter did when his faith failed him as he walked across the water towards Jesus, we can call out, “Lord save me.” When everything seems to be going against you, fix your eyes on Him and He will not fail you. There is always a new dawn. Every day is a day to start again. “Weeping may linger for the night, but joy comes in the morning” (Psalm 30:5). Night can be symbolic of trial and temptation. Morning is symbolic of Christ who is the Light of the World. Remember on Easter Sunday, Christ left the tomb in a burst of light. He has come to share His light with us. Jesus' name means God saves. He came to save us. He came to share our trials, enter into the depths with us and draw us out. Trust is like a muscle which grows under trying circumstances and pressure. Surrendering my desires to Him and trusting that He will fulfill them is hard. To be able to sincerely say, “I want God’s will above my own,” isn’t easy because we like to do what we want to do. That’s what Our Lady did when she said, “Let it be done to me according to Thy word,” (Luke 1:38). In her gentle way, she stands beside us, helping us to align our deepest desires with all that is good. So, by the grace of God, I go forward with confidence, knowing that I can speak to the Lord as a friend and family member about all my needs. I have come to know God as a loving Father who calls us to come to Him with childlike trust in His loving plan, despite all our flaws, and mistakes, no matter how many times we have failed. “Let us approach the throne of grace” (Hebrews 4:16) and “Do not be frightened or dismayed, for the Lord, your God is with you” (Joshua 1:9) ARTICLE is based on the testimony shared by Daniella Stephans for the Shalom World program “Jesus My Savior”.
By: Daniella Stephans
MoreThe very thing that turned me away from the Church brought me back wholeheartedly! This is my side of the story… Born and raised in Philadelphia, I attended a Catholic school like most of my friends. Our family attended Mass only on Christmas and Easter. I learned about the sacraments in school, but mostly I memorized the correct answers to get them right on a test. I was a good kid. I didn’t struggle with any major sins. My friends teased that I’d probably become a nun because I was such a goodie two-shoes. But I wasn’t connecting well with my faith. And after a bad confession experience in fourth grade, I decided never to return. I turned away from the Church. After high school I worked as a server at the Olive Garden. One of my coworkers was an incredibly handsome guy named Keith. A talented musician and a strong Christian, Keith invited me to his non-denominational church, and I loved it. We attended together often, but soon Keith accepted a position as a youth pastor in his home state of Iowa. We missed each other terribly, so I followed him. We married in 1996, and everything was perfect: Keith loved his job at the church: the congregation took wonderful care of us, we had three beautiful children, and I loved us being a pastor’s family. We served there and at a handful of other churches for two decades. Ministry had its ups and downs, but we loved it. The Tipping Point Then, after 22 years as a pastor, Keith announced one day, “I think God is calling me to quit my job and convert to Catholicism.” I was shocked, even as I learned that he had been privately considering Catholicism for a long time. He had read books about Catholicism and discussed the faith with priests and catholic friends. What he discovered about the Church Fathers, the sacraments, and the papacy had shaken him to his core, but he had kept going. I loved his new excitement, but I wasn’t interested and didn’t think he’d go through with it. There was no way the Keith I knew would convert to the dull and lifeless religion of my upbringing. But the more I noticed Keith light up when he spoke about converting, the more I panicked. The kids were getting older and had grown up in churches they loved; even if we wanted to, we couldn’t make them convert. “God can’t want to divide our home,” I thought… How could I go back to what meant so little to me as a child, especially since my new Protestant faith kept me fulfilled. I’d need to work through things like Confession—something I never wanted to do again. I secretly hoped this was just a phase Keith would soon get over. The tipping point for Keith came after a Catholic apologetics talk where he felt God speaking directly to him. He came home and said, “That’s it, I’m doing this. I’m converting. I don’t know what we will do for money, but I know that God is calling me to this; we will figure it out.” The next day, he told his church he was resigning. Now I had to decide what to do. After months of prayer, I ultimately followed Keith to the Catholic Church. I felt it was best for our kids to see their mom follow their dad’s lead in faith, but they decided to stay at their Protestant churches. It was exciting to see Keith so passionate about his conversion, but I had a more challenging time than I thought I would. I cried at every Mass for about three months. Our family had worshipped together for the past 22 years. Now, we were painfully scattered. In addition, I was upset that Keith wasn’t using his gifts for ministry in the Catholic Church. Since God called him to quit his job, I expected there’d be an incredible ministry waiting for him. I believed God had a plan for Keith, but what was it? Keith was content attending Mass and soaking it all in, but I wanted to see God use him in some new way. A Wonderful Trip After a few months of attending Mass, I became more open to the faith. I started asking questions and learning why we do what we do. I began opening my heart to the Mass and started loving it. The people in our parish were beautiful examples of what being Catholic is all about. I loved the scripture-filled Mass, the incense, holy water, and sacraments. I loved the devotions, and of course, the Eucharist. Had I learned more about the Eucharist as a child, I couldn’t have walked away so easily. During the summer after our conversion, a friend invited us to go to Medjugorje. Keith had gone years before and had a wonderful experience. We were both excited to go, especially when we realized we’d be there on the first anniversary of Keith entering the Catholic Church. What a great way to celebrate. I realized that we had become so busy with life, work, and family that perhaps we hadn’t heard from God about the future because we hadn’t taken the time to stop and listen. “Maybe in Medjugorje God will talk to us about his plan for our life,” I thought. The trip was a powerful experience, but I wasn’t hearing God speaking to me about our future. I started getting impatient and frustrated. Before It’s Too Late On the last day, we went to Mass, Rosary services, Adoration, and everything else they offered. We didn’t want to miss anything. During Adoration, I prayed, “God, please talk to me. I felt God say, “Go to Confession.” “No God, please speak to me directly. It’s our last night. Please tell me what to do.” He said, “Go to Confession.” I argued with God, “Do you know how many people are in line for confession? I’ll never get in!” In Medjugorje, Confession is a big deal. Even with dozens of priests hearing Confessions in many languages, the lines can be long. The outdoor Confessions area was swarming with people every time we walked by. “Sorry God, if you had told me this earlier in the week, I would have gone, but I don’t want to miss out on anything during our last night here,” I prayed. Looking back, I am sure God was rolling His eyes. After Adoration, while waiting for our friends, I looked at the Confession line trying to decide what to do. A friend from our group came over, looked at me, and said one word, “Pizza.” I jumped up and said, “Yes, let’s go.” We had a delightful time, and after I had stuffed myself, it occurred to me that I might have made a big mistake. “Maybe I should have tried to go to Confession,” I thought. “I think God was talking to me, and I disobeyed. Now, what am I going to do? It might be too late.” I was starting to feel guilty. I asked Greg about my chances to get into Confession. “It’s after 9:00,” he said, “finding a priest still there (especially an English-speaking priest) won’t be easy”. I decided to try. We walked a block to the outdoor Confessions area and found it empty and dark. As we turned the corner, we spotted a priest in the distance sitting beside a sign that said “English.” I couldn’t believe it. As I approached, he said, “I’ve been waiting for you.” A Message from God I sat down and started my Confession. “I should tell you,” I said, “I’ve had issues with Confession. All my other Confessions were half-hearted and done out of obligation. I feel like God told me to come here tonight, so I’m going to consider this my first Confession.” Then I spilled my guts. It took a long time. I was crying, and even though I felt that I had confessed my sins to Jesus throughout the years, there was something special about speaking them out loud to a priest. I struggled to get out some of my words, but I did the best I could. When I finished, he said, “Your sins are forgiven.” Then he said, “I can tell you are genuinely sorry for your sins, but that’s not the only reason you are here. You are here because it is your last night in Medjugorje (I didn’t tell him that!), and you have been frustrated with God for a long time. You have wanted Him to speak to you on this trip, and you feel He hasn’t. (I didn’t tell him that either!) “Here is God’s message to you,” said the priest. “Be patient, keep doing what you’re doing and trust in Me.’’ I started crying and then laughing because I was so filled with joy. I hugged him and thanked him for waiting for me. I couldn’t wait to tell Keith what the priest told me. We realized there was a reason we were in Medjugorje on Keith’s anniversary of becoming a Catholic. There was a reason God didn’t have Keith do too much during that first year. We needed to be patient and faithful. And shortly after returning, doors began opening for Keith to share his journey into the Catholic faith. For example, since the Pandemic began, Keith has been live streaming a Rosary every afternoon on YouTube. He’s done it every day for almost two years now, with over 70 countries represented. It’s now referred to as the Rosary Crew. People from all over the world tell Keith that his ministry has helped them. We are extremely grateful. I’ve learned that while we often ask God to speak to us, too often we’ve already decided what we want Him to say. But God loves to surprise us. Isn’t it crazy that Confession, the very thing that turned me away from The Church, is the thing that Jesus used to bring me back wholeheartedly? Are you asking God for advice but unwilling to hear what He says? Do you have issues with the Church which you need to resolve? Do you need to ask someone for forgiveness? Do you need to surrender to Jesus and start living differently? Whatever your issue, try to let go of your expectations and just listen? Don’t wait any longer. God is speaking to you. Listen.
By: Estelle Nester
MoreI was carrying those wounds from the past which affected me deeply. Sudden outbursts of anger and addiction to sinful habits led me down the pit until He set me free… When I went to high school in Chicago, there was a lot of racial tension. I belong to a minority group and during my time in high school, I often faced and dealt with discrimination. During those 4 years, I was harassed verbally, and I struggled emotionally because of the teasing and ridicule. I was the type of person who would not retaliate when I faced ridicule, but I took all the negative feelings from this verbal and physical harassment and buried it deep in my heart. However, keeping all of that negativity inside affected me deeply. My interactions with my parents, brothers, and other relatives suffered. Sometimes I would have sudden outbursts of anger and lash out to hurt them with spiteful, cruel words. I was addicted to many sinful habits. Although I knew that these were evil and desired to be released from them, I struggled in vain to free myself. I continued to fall into the same sinful habits and couldn’t control my temper. At one family gathering, I felt so angry that I got into a fight with my youngest brother. I became afraid of myself, realizing that I needed to do something about this hate and anger lying deep within me. What Captivated Me? By the Grace of God, during my freshman year in high school, I attended a youth Retreat. During this Retreat, I saw young people who were so excited about God that their deep love for Him shone joyfully on their faces. For the first time in my life, I met young people who felt unintimidated in talking about God or sharing their faith experiences. And it really captivated me. I had grown up in a good Catholic family and thought that I knew all about God, but it remained at the intellectual level and never transferred to my heart. However at this Retreat, I saw young people who really loved living their faith and were so happy. Despite the fact that my friends and I would sometimes burst out laughing because we found what they were doing comical, the young people who were ministering to us were not deterred in any way. They were so excited to be there and so passionate about their faith that I really longed to have what they had, to be full of joy, to be happy and to love life. So, I prayed, “Lord I want to be like that, I want that. After that Retreat, I had the opportunity to attend multiple Retreats. I would go at least 1 or 2 times a year and also began to be active in youth ministry. I got an opportunity to be part of the youth service team for the Catholic Charismatic Renewal in Chicago and I worked in youth ministry with other adults. It was a wonderful time for me. Resisting Him I began to grow in my faith and, at the same time, share my faith with others. But even as I continued in ministry, I still struggled sometimes with sinful habits and outbursts of anger. This really depressed me because I was trying to share the good news of Christ with others, but my own sins were holding me back and I still couldn’t forgive the people who had hurt me. I desperately wanted freedom from this slavery of sin. As I cried out to God in desperation, I felt the Lord telling me “Jenson, I want to heal you. I want to set you free from this negativity lying deep within your heart, but to do that, I need to walk with you into each and every one of those painful situations and touch those painful memories with My hand that is bathed in My blood that was shed for you at Calvary.” I was afraid and responded timorously, “Lord, I do not want to revisit those negative experiences. It is too painful for me.” So I kept resisting the Lord even though he was ready to set me free. All through high school—I continued to experience painful situations, the Lord kept telling me He wants to set me free, He wanted to heal me, but I kept resisting Him. I continued to work in youth ministry but I was becoming more discouraged because I was not able to find lasting happiness. Revisiting the Pains After high school, I went to a Catholic university in Chicago. It was a wonderful environment because, for the first time in my life, I did not face any discrimination. People accepted me for who I was. I began to desire very strongly that when I received the joy of the Lord it would last into the next day or week. To my disappointment, I kept falling back into habitual sin and outbursts of anger. I called out to the Lord, saying, “Something has to change. I want to be free; I want to be rid of my past because it is holding me captive.” And the Lord kept telling me, “I want to do that for you, but you have to give Me permission to do that one thing—to set me free.” But I replied, “No way!” I don’t want to ever revisit those years of high school which were so painful. One day, at the end of a Retreat, one of the adults working with me in youth ministry (who knew all about my struggles and my past) came to me saying, “Jenson, I want you to do something for me. I want you to put both your hands on my shoulders. I want you to look at me in the eyes and I want you to see one of those people who hurt you in high school. I want you to tell this person what he or she did to you, and then I want you to say, ‘I forgive you.” And for the first time in my life, I did not resist. I did not have the power to resist. I said, “I am ready now. I want to go through with it.” And so one by one I began to do this. Looking at my friend, I did not see her face. In my imagination, I delved into my memory to find and picture each of the people who had hurt me in high school. I told each of them what he or she had done to me, and then I said, “I forgive you.” As I began to do this, I began to cry uncontrollably. Each time I spoke the words of forgiveness, “I forgive you for what you did to me”, I felt something heavy lifted out of me. River of Love It was a long night of prayer, but it was the most powerful healing experience of my life. As the weight of this pain was lifted from me by each act of forgiveness, I felt more and more light-hearted. One of my friends, who resembled Jesus with his long hair, came up close to me as the prayer ended. I felt so light that I just floated into his hands. As he held me there, I felt as if Jesus was holding me close to His Heart, embracing me. My heart felt empty of the burden it had been carrying. Into that emptiness, I suddenly felt the love of God flowing like a river into my heart, filling me with peace, love and joy. I just enjoyed the moment, relishing the peace I had been craving for so long. I felt sure that I was finally completely free of the burden of sin, guilt and shame that had been crushing me. The Lord had completely uprooted all that negative stuff and taken it away from me. He set me free. Why did this happen? Because I had reached a point of desperation where I cried out to the Lord for help to escape a lifestyle of sin, and then submitted to His remedy. The Lord had said, “I want to set you free. I am the wounded Healer. I love you, I laid down my life for you.” He wanted to walk with me into each of my painful experiences, share in my pain and I bring His healing touch to my wounds. When I finally allowed Him to do that, Jesus did not let me walk by myself. He walked beside me, taking me back to each and every painful situation, helping me to describe what happened to the person who hurt me and truly forgive them. He gave me the grace to do that, and permanently shed the heavy burden I had been carrying. He Waits For You God wants to heal us permanently and make us whole. He does not do partial work on us. If we trust in Him, He will finish the work that He began and heal us completely. Because He is the wounded healer, He loves us so much that He shares our pain. The Lord does not abandon us even for a second; He stays with us through all our painful moments and walks beside us. After I allowed the Lord to lift my burden, and to set me free, I could continue my life free of the sinful habits that had enslaved me. Every day, I felt the joy of the Lord in my heart and nobody or nothing could take that joy away from me. Even when I committed sin and fell away from God, I was able to come back immediately through the sacrament of Confession. Receiving the graces of the sacrament strengthened my commitment to go to confession frequently. The Lord was with me and I would not allow myself to slip away from Him again. I invite each one of you who has experienced hurt through your own sins, or the sins of others, to open your heart to Jesus. He is the wounded healer. He can make you whole again. He can restore you through His healing power. He can set you free. All you have to do is say ‘Yes’ to Him. If you trust Him and give Him permission to heal you, you will receive lasting grace and joy. If there is anybody in your life that you need to forgive, I encourage you to say the words of forgiveness; because the act of forgiveness will allow the healing grace of God to complete you and bring fulfillment in your life.
By: Jenson Joseph
MoreUntil then going to church was just to keep my parents happy. I didn’t expect that there was someone there who loved me, even when I didn’t care I was born into a Catholic family in India, so, for me, growing up Catholic was more because of tradition than faith. Going to Sunday Mass and receiving Holy Communion had become routine, and I never really had a relationship with Jesus. I didn't take my faith seriously. It was more about keeping my parents happy, so for their sake I went to church. When I moved to England at the impressionable age of 13, my life went through a complete upheaval. In the midst of this culture shock, I was bullied at school. That was so traumatizing that I felt like trash. I couldn’t understand what was happening, and I felt so depressed that I began to think, “Why am I alive?” I threw myself into my study, and my grades improved so that I was able to study pharmacy at Birmingham University. I was surprised when I met a group of young people who accepted me the way I was for the first time in my life. Although that felt great, it was also very strange because they would gather to pray and I wasn’t used to that. When they were praising God, I thought that was odd because I didn't have a relationship with Christ. They belonged to an international Catholic charismatic movement for youth called Jesus Youth. Although I couldn’t understand them, I kept going because I felt so accepted and decided to go with them to a conference called “Dare to Go”. During an inner healing session, all the memories of what had happened to me in the past came flooding in. I couldn't stop crying, but then I felt the love of a Father embracing me and understood that Jesus had been carrying me all that time. I finally realized that somebody loved me for who I was, and didn’t judge me. He had always been there, even when I did not know Him, even when I did not love Him back. So, I started to spend more time with them and other like-minded people. I asked God how I could serve Him and He put the right people in my path. I discovered that He had given me a musical gift--to sing and glorify Him through music and share His love with others through music. The more I sing for him, the more I praise and glorify God through my voice, the more I am attracted and drawn towards Christ. What keeps me going and what keeps me attached to Christ is His unconditional love. However, I wasn’t a paragon of perfection. Like many young people I decided to try out the things that everyone else seemed to enjoy. Alcohol helped me fit in with that crowd, but even when I sidetracked, God stayed with me to redirect my steps. He put certain people in my life to gently nudge me back to Him. He's a very gentle God. He never pushed me, or dragged me. He waited patiently and gave me countless opportunities, again and again, to come back to Him, so I could experience His love. The more I got to know Christ, the more I recognized how weak I was. Every day He revealed something about myself that I had never realized. My flaws and struggles became an opportunity to grow closer to Him, whereas I felt that if I shared my weaknesses with somebody else, they would probably reject me, and judge me. But I can keep going to Him again and again in Adoration or Mass, give my weakness to Him and ask Him to take it from me. He willingly accepts the burden. He polishes me day by day like a treasured jewel. I can't stop myself from being drawn towards His love. Our relationship has become so close that I cannot reject Him even if I wanted to, and if I do reject Him by falling again into sin, the love of God raises me up again. Every time I fall He says, “It’s okay” and that is what keeps me connected to Him, that's what keeps me attached. When I go to Mass, I have a tangible experience of meeting Christ in the Eucharist. Every time I receive Him, it moves me to tears because I'm receiving the holiest of holies into my frail, sinful body and that strengthens me day by day. When I began journeying with Christ and experiencing Him in a personal way, I started realizing that it doesn't matter what is happening around me—how much money I have or how many friends I have. Before I used to seek for people's approval and the moment they rejected me my happiness was gone. But with Christ, it doesn't matter if people give you approval or not. He says, “I have chosen you” and when I hear those words, I feel like I have achieved everything. It brings me a lot of happiness, joy and peace to me. I encourage you to give Jesus an opportunity to make a difference in your life. He stands knocking at the door, but He will never force it open, you are invited to open it to Him. You will never regret it if you do. You would be opening the door to a multitude of good things. The blessings He will shower upon you and the things you can achieve with His help are never-ending. Nothing is impossible for Him. He has given me the courage to say yes to things I could never have imagined. Christ gave me the strength to take a year out of my usual activities to do mission work with Jesus Youth. I distinctly heard Him say, “Shelina I want you to take this one year. I will show you how much more you can achieve through Me”. I was always so anxious about traveling, meeting new people, or spending time with people that I didn't know. With Him by my side, I could step out of my comfort zone to do those very things, and enjoy it. That incessant, self-conscious fear that people would judge me has disappeared because my life now has a purpose--to share Christ with others. There is no greater gift I could give to anyone and He deserves our love. If He left the 99 and came after me, I'm sure that He's already seeking you, calling you back home. ARTICLE is based on the testimony shared by Shelina Guedes for the Shalom World program “U-Turn”. To watch the episodes visit: shalomworld.org/show/u-turn
By: Shelina Guedes
MoreDid you ever encounter an unanswerable question which made you realize that Science doesn't have all the answers? I became a Catholic because Chemistry led me to Christ. I had abandoned my childhood faith to study Science because I thought they were incompatible. I loved Chemistry because it’s all about the fundamental structure underlying our macroscopic experience. It’s about the search for Truth. I thought Science had all the answers until I had a tremendous experience of God. This happened while I was working as a research scientist studying artificial photosynthesis. I was trying to develop a new alternative energy source to fossil fuels. I delighted in my work as I’d always wanted to make this world a better place by doing something good. However, simulating photosynthesis on nano composite materials in a state-of-the-art chemistry lab is in itself an absurd undertaking. One day, when my research wasn't going so well. I gazed idly through my window on the third floor into the canopy of a beautiful, tall, ancient tree—a Ginkgo biloba. As I regarded its beauty, I suddenly felt as if a veil had fallen away. My mind became flooded with interconnected facts—how plants use the sun, water and the carbon dioxide we breathe out to make all the biomass on earth. This incredibly complex, fine-tuned, well-orchestrated nano factory uses all these little molecules and blobs of proteins—just so far apart in the right position providing just the right fluid in this place, the perfect matrix in that place. It fits everything together in a series of precise chemical reactions more swiftly than you could even write them down. In that moment, it all became so clear that there really is a great Chemist out there who made the entire universe. It was funny that I was here in the lab trying to save the planet while out there was the whole universe. I had not even been willing to face the fact that everything I was trying to do as a scientist was mimicking and simulating nature. In that moment I developed a deep conviction that Science is the study of God’s handiwork because Science is the study of Nature, and Nature is God’s creation. Once I got that straight in my head, nothing in Science ever made me question my faith. This moment of realization had a great impact on the way I thought. We are not God. We don’t even understand what's going on. He understands and knows all that He's holding in existence. We don't even know how many electrons are on the tip of our noses, but God does! ARTICLE is an excerpt from the Shalom World program “Jesus My Savior” where Dr. Stacy A Trasancos shares all about her experience. To watch the episode visit: shalomworld.org/episode/jesus-my-savior
By: Dr. Stacy A. Trasancos
MoreDr. Roy Schoeman, tells us how atheism dragged him into a pit of hopelessness and how he got out of it I was born and raised Jewish. I went to Massachusetts Institute of Technology where I lost my belief in God, and essentially became an atheist. I went on to Harvard Business School, and after getting my degree was invited back to join the faculty. So at the age of 29, I found myself as a professor of marketing at Harvard Business School. Although it may sound surprising, that's when the bottom fell out of my world. Ever since I was a small child, I knew life must have a real meaning, which I thought would come from entering into a personal relationship with God. I expected this would happen at my Bar Mitzvah (sort of like Catholic confirmation) at the age of 13. When it didn't, it turned out to be one of the saddest days of my life. Then I thought real meaning would come from success in worldly life, but as a professor at Harvard, I was already more successful in a worldly career than I had ever hoped, yet still there was no meaning or purpose in my life. Therefore at that point, I fell into the darkest despair of my life. Mystical Way Early one morning, I was walking in a Nature Preserve by the ocean, among the pine trees and sand dunes. I was just ambling along, lost in my thoughts. I had long since lost hope in believing that God existed. But all of a sudden, the curtain between Earth and Heaven disappeared, and I found myself in the presence of God, looking back over my life as if I had died. I saw that everything that had ever happened to me had been the most perfect thing that could have been arranged coming from the hands of an all-knowing, all-loving God, not only including those things that had caused the most suffering, but especially those things. I saw that I would have two great regrets after I died. Firstly, all the time and energy I had wasted worrying about not being loved when I had been held in an ocean of love, greater than anything I could imagine, at every moment of my existence, coming from this all-knowing, all-loving God. And secondly, every hour I had wasted doing nothing of value in the eyes of Heaven, since each moment contains the possibility of doing something valuable in God's eyes. Every time we take advantage of that opportunity we will very truly be rewarded for it for all eternity, and every opportunity we let slip and don't take advantage of, will be a lost opportunity for all eternity. But the most overwhelming aspect of this experience was to come into the intimate, deep and certain knowledge that God Himself— the God who not only created everything that exists, but created existence itself—not only knew me by name and cared about me, He had been watching over me, every moment of my existence, arranging everything that ever happened to me in the most perfect way. He had actually known, and cared about how I felt every moment. In a very real way everything which made me happy made Him happy, and everything that made me sad made Him sad. I realized that the meaning and purpose of my life was to worship and serve my Lord, God and Master who was revealing Himself to me, but I didn't know His name or what religion this was. I couldn't think of this as the God of the Old Testament, or this religion as Judaism. The picture of God that emerges from the Old Testament is of a God far more distant, severe and judgmental than this God was. I knew He was my Lord and God and my master, and I wanted nothing else but to worship and serve Him properly, but I didn't know who He was or what religion to follow. So I prayed, “Let me know your name so I know what religion to follow. I don't mind if you are Buddha and I have to become a Buddhist; I don't mind if you’re Krishna and I have to become a Hindu; I don't mind if you’re Apollo and I have to become a Roman pagan. As long as you're not Christ and I have to become Christian!” Well, He respected that prayer and did not reveal His name to me. But I returned home happier than I had ever been in my life. All I wanted was to know the name of my Lord, God and master who had revealed Himself to me, and what religion to follow. So every night before I went to sleep I would say a short prayer that I had made up to know the name of my Lord, my God and master who had revealed Himself to me in that experience. Beauty beyond Words A year to the day after that first experience, I went to sleep after having said that prayer, as well as a prayer of thanksgiving for what had happened exactly a year earlier. I thought I was awoken by a hand touching my shoulder gently, and was led to a room and left alone with the most beautiful young woman I could ever imagine. I knew without being told that it was the Blessed Virgin Mary. When I found myself in Her presence all I wanted to do was fall on my knees and somehow honor Her appropriately. In fact the first thought that crossed my mind was: “Oh my Goodness I wish I at least knew the Hail Mary!’ but I didn't. Her first words were an offer to answer any questions I might have for Her. Well, my first thought was to ask her to teach me the Hail Mary, so I could honor her appropriately, but I was too proud to admit that I didn't know it. So as an indirect way of getting her to teach me the Hail Mary, I asked her what her favorite prayer to her was. Her first response was, “I love all prayers to me.” But I was a bit pushy, and said, “But you must love some prayers more than others.” She relented and recited a prayer in Portuguese. I didn't know any Portuguese, so all I could do was try to remember the first few syllables phonetically and write them down as soon as I woke up the next morning. Later when I met a Portuguese Catholic woman, I asked her to recite the Marian prayers in Portuguese for me, and I identified the prayer as 'O Mary conceived without sin, pray for us who have recourse to Thee'. As perfectly beautiful as Mary was to look at, even more profoundly affecting was the beauty of her voice. The only way I can describe it is to say it was composed out of that which makes Music, Music. When she spoke the beauty of her voice flowed through me, carrying her love with it, and lifted me up into a state of ecstasy greater than I ever imagined could exist. Most of my questions simply flowed out of my being overwhelmed by who She was. At one point, I stammered out, “How can it be that you're so glorious, that you're so magnificent, that you're so exalted?” Her response was just to look down at me almost with pity and shake her head gently and saying 'Oh no, you don't understand. I'm nothing. I'm a creature. I'm a created thing. He's everything'. Then again out of a desire to somehow honor her appropriately, I asked what title she liked best for herself. Her response was, “I am the beloved daughter of the Father, Mother of the Son and Spouse of the Spirit.” I asked her several other questions of somewhat less significance, after which she spoke to me for another 10 or 15 minutes. After that, the audience was ended and I went back to sleep. The next morning when I woke up I was hopelessly in love with the Blessed Virgin Mary, and I knew I wanted nothing other than to be as fully and completely Christian as possible. From that experience I realized, of course, that the God who revealed Himself to me a year earlier had been Christ. In Search of There was a shrine to Our Lady of La Salette about 45 minutes from where I lived. I began to go there three or four times a week, just to walk in the grounds, to feel the presence of the Blessed Virgin Mary, and to commune with her. The shrine was owned by the Catholic Church and so, sometimes, there would be a Holy Mass taking place. Whenever I was in the presence of a Mass, I was filled with a tremendous desire to receive the Eucharist, even though I did not know what it was. Those two things led me without too much of a detour into the Catholic Church—knowing who the Blessed Virgin Mary is, and wanting to receive Communion, daily if possible. On entering the Catholic Church, I not only did not stop being Jewish but, as I see it, became more Jewish than ever, since in doing so I became a Jewish follower of the Jewish Messiah, rather than a Jew who had not recognized the Jewish Messiah and remained in “pre- Messianic” Judaism. As I see it, the Catholic Church is post-Messianic Judaism and Judaism is pre-Messianic Catholicism: two phases in one and the same plan for salvation for all mankind. I am infinitely grateful that I received these experiences. I was brought into the fullness of the truth, into a personal relationship with God beyond anything I ever imagined could exist, into knowing the answers to all the questions about Man, about God, about the meaning of life, about what happens after you die, and so forth that tormented me growing up. Most importantly, I gained a well-founded hope of an eternity of unimaginable bliss and love in the presence of God. ARTICLE is based on the inspiring testimony shared by Dr. Roy Schoeman for the Shalom World program “Jesus, My Saviour ”. To watch the episode visit: shalomworld.org/show/jesus-my-savior
By: Dr Roy Schoeman
MoreThe world’s greatest treasure is within the reach of every person! The reality of Jesus’ presence in the Eucharist is something great and marvelous. I know that Jesus is really and truly present in the Eucharist from my own experience not just because the Church teaches this truth. The First Touch One of the experiences I had that helped increase my faith in the Lord was after I was baptized in the Holy Spirit in my early days in the Catholic Charismatic renewal. I was still not a priest at that time. I was leading a prayer meeting and during this meeting, we were praying over people. We had the Eucharist exposed for Adoration and then people would come one by one to be prayed over. A woman came asking me to pray over her with folded hands and I thought she was praying. She asked me to pray for her husband who had a problem with his foot. But as I was praying, I felt in my heart that the Lord wanted to heal her. So I asked her if she needed any kind of physical healing. She told me, “My hands are like this because I have frozen shoulder.” She had a problem of mobility with her hands. As we were praying for her healing she said that a great heat came out from the Eucharist, descended on her frozen shoulder and she was healed then and there. That was the first time I actually saw such healing taking place through the power of the Eucharist. It’s exactly as we have in the Gospels—people touched Jesus and power came out of Him and healed them. Unforgettable Moment I have had another powerful experience of the Eucharist in my life. Once I was praying with somebody who was involved in the occult, and she needed a deliverance. We were praying as a group and there was a priest with us. But this woman, who was on the floor couldn’t see the priest who was bringing the Eucharist inside the church to the sacristy. The exact moment the priest brought the Eucharist, from her mouth, a male violent voice said these words: “Remove Him whom you’ve got in your hands!” It choked me because the demon did not say ‘it’- a piece of bread, but “Him”. Satan recognizes the living presence of Jesus in the Eucharist. I will never forget that moment of my life. When I became a priest later, I kept those two incidences in my heart to really believe and preach the Real Presence of Jesus in the Eucharist. Unspeakable Joy As a priest I had one another experience which I will not forget. I attend prison ministry when I am not preaching around. Once I was giving communion to a particular division in the prison and had the Eucharist with me. Suddenly I felt in my heart the joy of Jesus in giving himself to the prisoners. This is something I cannot explain to you. If you could only experience and know the joy Jesus has in the Eucharist to come into each and every one of us! Another experience I have had of the Blessed Sacrament was a personal, emotional healing for myself. Once somebody who was in the church really hurt me with his words. It wasn’t easy and I was starting to get angry. Although I am not aggressive by nature, this hurt stirred up a lot of feelings and bad thoughts against this person. I fled to Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament and just cried. In that moment I felt His love, for that person who hurt me, radiating out from the Eucharist and entering into my heart. Jesus in the Eucharist healed me, but more than that, as a priest it helped me to realize where the real source of love and healing is in our lives. Not only for me as a priest, but for married persons and young people - who can really give the love that we are looking for? Where can we find love that is greater than sin and hatred? It’s in Him, present in the Eucharist. The Lord gave me so much love for the person who hurt me. On the eve of the day I was going to make my first vows, a sudden darkness entered into my heart. I went straight to the tabernacle instead of finding my new room in the community. Then from the depths of the heart I heard the Lord telling me, “Hayden, you are coming here for me.” And suddenly all the joy came back. In the Eucharist Jesus taught me one very important thing about my life as a Franciscan priest—He has called me for Him, I exist for Him. The Eucharist teaches every one of us that we can do nothing apart from Jesus—it’s not about us, it’s JUST ABOUT HIM. We are in the Church to be with Him! As a priest, celebrating the Eucharist is the most wonderful moment I have with the Lord and it also brings me closer to the Christian community. It is Jesus in the Eucharist who is the source of communion between us. As a priest, I cannot live without the Eucharist. What is the greatest thing we can ask Jesus when we receive Him in our hearts? It is asking Him to fill us with His Holy Spirit once again. When Jesus was resurrected, He breathed the Holy Spirit into the Apostles. When we receive Jesus in the Eucharist, He gives us once again the presence and power of the Holy Spirit in our lives. Ask Him to fill you with the gifts and the power of the Holy Spirit. Broken for you Once when I was lifting up the Host and breaking it, I got this deep conviction regarding the priesthood. We look at the people through the presence of Christ in the Eucharist, which is a broken body. A priest should be like that. He breaks his life so that he can give it to the community and the rest of world. One can also discover this beauty in the married life. Love is like the Eucharist. You have to break yourself in order to give yourself. The Eucharist has taught me how to live a celibate life, how to be Jesus for the community, giving my whole life for them. The same thing has to happen in married life. Finally, I can tell you that whenever I have felt lonely or down, just going near him—is enough to receive all the strength that I need, even if I am tired or sleepy. I can’t count the number of times I have experienced this in my travels and in my preaching. The best rest is to get closer to Him. I can assure you; He can renew us physically, spiritually, mentally and emotionally. Because in the Eucharist Jesus is ALIVE—He is there for us!
By: Father Hayden Williams OFM Cap
MoreToday if you clearly hear what God wants you to do...dare to do it! “Become a monk first.” Those were the words I received from God when I was 21 years old; 21 years old with the sort of plans and interests that would be expected of an average 21-year-old. I had plans to graduate from college within a year. Plans to serve in youth ministry, while working as a stuntman in Hollywood. I fancied I might move to the Philippines one day, and spend some time living among tribes on a remote island. And of course, marriage and children had a very strong appeal. These aspirations among others were arrested swiftly when God spoke those four unmistakable words. Some enthusiastic Christians express envy when I tell them about how God made His will explicit for my life. They often say, “I wish God would speak to me that way.” In response to this, I wish to offer some clarification on God’s pattern of speech based on my personal experience. God does not speak until we are ready to hear and receive what He has to say. What He has to say may determine how long it takes before we are ready. Until we can hear and receive God’s word, He will simply wait; and God can wait a very long time, as illustrated in the parable of the Prodigal Son. More importantly, those who wait on Him are esteemed throughout Scripture. I should preface my calling to become a monk with details about how my vocation really began, when I started reading the Church Fathers as an adolescent, or more accurately, when I started reading the Bible daily. Factoring in these details shows that it took seven years of discernment before I could receive just four words from God. Digging into Books I hated reading as a child. Sitting in a stuffy room with a book for hours on end made no sense when endless adventures were lying just outside my door. However, the imperative to read my Bible daily posed an unresolvable dilemma. Every Evangelical knows that any Christian who allows dust to collect on the Good Book is not much of a Christian. But how could I study Sacred Scripture as someone who hated reading? By the influence and example of a youth pastor, I gritted my teeth and set myself to the task of laboring over God’s Word one book at a time. The more I read, the more I began to ask questions. More questions led me to reading more books for more answers. Teenagers are intense by nature. Subtlety is something they learn later in life, which is why the Church Fathers left me so enamored as a young man. Ignatius was not subtle. Origen was not refined. The Church Fathers were extreme in every sense, renouncing earthly goods, residing in the desert, and often sacrificing their lives for the Lord. As an adolescent with proclivities toward the extreme, I found no one who could rival the Church Fathers. No MMA fighter could compare with Perpetua. No surfer was gnarlier than the Shepherd of Hermas. And yet, what these early radicals cared about was nothing other than imitating the life of Christ as modeled in the Bible. Furthermore, all were in consensus on leading a life of celibacy and contemplation. The paradox was striking to me. Being extreme like the Church Fathers entailed a lifestyle that, on the surface, appeared rather mundane. More questions to ponder. Talking Back With graduation on the horizon, I was torn by a couple job offers that would determine denominational affiliation, as well as prospective institutions for further education after college. At the time, my Anglican priest advised me to bring the matter to God in prayer. How I should serve Him was ultimately His decision, not mine. And what better place to discern the will of God in prayer than a monastery? On Easter Sunday, a woman I had never met approached me at St. Andrew’s Abbey, saying “I am praying for you, and I love you.” After asking for my name, she advised me to read the first chapter of Luke, saying “this will help you determine your vocation.” I kindly thanked her, and did as she instructed. As I sat on the chapel lawn reading about John the Baptist’s origin story, I noticed several parallels between our lives. I will not stray into all the details here. All I will say is that it was the most intimate experience I ever had with God’s Word. It felt like the passage was written for me in that very moment. I continued to pray and wait for God’s direction on the grassy lawn. Would He direct me to accepting a position in Newport Beach, or back home in San Pedro? Hours passed by as I patiently listened. Suddenly, an unexpected voice popped in my mind; “Become a monk first.” This was startling, as it was not the answer I was looking for. Entering a monastery after graduation was the last thing on my mind. Besides, I had a vibrant and colorful life to live. I stubbornly pushed God’s voice aside, attributing it to be some wild idea that rose from my subconsciousness. Returning to prayer, I listened for God to make His will evident to me. Next, an image captured my mind; three dry river beds appeared. Somehow, I knew that one represented San Pedro my hometown, another represented Newport, but the river bed in the middle signified becoming a monk. Against my will, the riverbed in the middle began overflowing with white water. What I saw was completely out of my control; I couldn’t not see it. At this point I became afraid. Either I was going mad, or God was calling me to something unexpected. Undeniable The bell tolled as tears trickled down my cheeks. It was time for Vespers. I shuffled into the chapel along with the monks. As we chanted the Psalms, my weeping grew uncontrollable. I could no longer keep up with the chanting. I remember feeling embarrassed about the mess I must have looked like. As the brethren filed out one by one, I remained in the chapel. Lying prostrate in front of the altar, I began to weep harder than I ever have in my entire life. What felt strange was the complete lack of emotion to accompany the weeping. There was neither sorrow nor anger, just sobs. The only explanation I could attribute to the downpour of tears and snot, was the touch of the Holy Spirit. It was undeniable that God was calling me to the monastic life. I went to bed that night with eyes swollen but peace knowing God’s path for me. The next morning I promised God I would follow His bidding, seeking to become a monk first and foremost. I am Not Done Yet? Although God is punctual at times, as with Moses on Mt. Sinai or Elijah on Mt. Carmel, more often than not, His words are inopportune. We can’t presume that by putting our lives on hold, God will be forced to speak up. He is not manipulatable in the slightest. Thus, we are left with no choice but to carry on with our humdrum tasks until we nearly forget about Him—this is when He shows up. Young Samuel heard God’s voice precisely when Samuel was attending to his daily (mundane) duties, i.e., ensuring the tabernacle candle remain lit. There are vocations within vocations; callings within callings. Thus, a student may very well hear God speak in the middle of attending to her algebra problem. A single mother may receive a word from God while quietly sitting in traffic on the 405 freeway. The point is to watch and wait always, for we do not know when the Master will appear. This gives rise to a question; Why is a word from God so infrequent and ambiguous? God gives us just the amount of clarity we need to follow Him; no more. The Mother of God received a word without much clarification. The prophets, who constantly received revelations from Him, were often perplexed. John the Baptist, who was the first to recognize the Messiah, second guessed himself later on. Even the disciples, Jesus’ closest kin, were constantly confused by the words of our Lord. Those who hear God speak are left with more questions, not answers. God told me to become a monk, but He did not say how or where. Much of my own vocation He left up to me to figure out. It would take four years before my calling was realized; four years (within which I visited eighteen other monasteries) before I was granted entry to St. Andrew’s. Confusion, doubt, and second guessing, are all part of the lengthy process of discernment. Moreover, God does not speak in a vacuum. His words are preceded and followed by the words of others. A youth pastor, an Anglican priest, an oblate of St. Andrew’s—these acted as God’s vassals. Hearing their words was essential before I could receive God’s. My vocation remains incomplete. It is still being discovered, still being realized every day. I’ve been a monk for six years now. Just this year I professed solemn vows. One might say I’ve done what God told me to do. Be that as it may, God is not done speaking. He did not stop speaking after the first day of Creation, and He will not stop until His magnum opus is complete. Who knows what He will say or when He will speak next? God has a history of having very strange things to say. Our part is to watch and wait for whatever He has in store.
By: Brother John Baptist Santa Ana, O.S.B.
More“Have mercy on me, O Lord, a sinner.” These words have been the battle cry of my life. Even in my earliest years, they were my motto, when I didn’t even realize. Mercy. If God had a middle name, it would be “Mercy”. Mercy held my hand every time I walked into the confessional. Mercy saved me time and time again, while enveloping my soul and pardoning me. My faith journey began decades ago when my parents chose for me what I couldn’t yet choose for myself—baptism into the Catholic Church. I was raised to know right from wrong. And I suffered the consequences when I veered off track. My parents took their roles seriously and took pride in teaching me about Jesus and the Church. They were God’s hands in my life, forming my conscience through His grace. As I grew, I hungered and thirsted for more of Him. Yet, the world and my own struggles with fear and anxiety got in the way. Vacillation between good and bad plagued my life for years. I called it “walking a tightrope between heaven and hell.” During college, I recall standing drunk at 1 AM in a bar bathroom, downing my drink while I prayed the Rosary, afraid that I would miss even a day of praying it. As I look back on moments like this that illustrated my internal tug of war, I am reminded of Mercy. I knew who I belonged to, but I was tempted to wander. An innate struggle caused by original sin permeates our lives whether we can name it or not: Our deepest desire for Christ is opposed by the allurements of the world and the evil one. Yet Mercy has pulled me out of the gutter of sin, cleaned me of the muck and washed me anew. Mercy has waited for my call, sitting by the phone at all hours of the night until I was ready to be picked up and brought home. Mercy has pulled me from going under, supporting me like a life vest. Mercy has listened to the screaming, the tears, the angry words, and held me close as I settled. Mercy has held me patiently as I fought back again and again. Mercy is the end. The beginning. My everything in between. The God of Mercy has waited for me, pursued me, and forgiven me for as long as I have known him. And by His grace, He has assured me that He is always there, arms outstretched, loving and forgiving again and again.
By: Betsey Sawyer Estrade
MoreWhen troubles come, how quick are we to think that nobody understands what we are going through? In almost every church, we find a crucifix hanging above the altar. This image of our Savior does not present Him crowned with jewels sitting on a throne, nor descending on a cloud carried by angels, but rather as a man, wounded, stripped of basic human dignity, and enduring the most humiliating and painful form of execution. We see a person who has loved and lost, who has been hurt and betrayed. We see a person just like us. And yet, in the face of this evidence, when we ourselves suffer, how quick we are to lament that nobody understands us, nobody knows what we’re going through? We make quick assumptions and sink into a place of isolation bound by inconsolable sorrow. A Change of Course A few years ago my life changed forever. I had always been a healthy child, a ballet dancer with dreams I had already begun to realize by the time I turned twelve. I had regularly attended Sunday school and felt drawn to God but had never done much about it, so I went on enjoying my life, my time with friends, and dancing lead roles at top ballet schools. I was content with my life. I knew God was there, but He was always over there. I trusted Him, but never thought very much about Him. Yet in eighth grade, at the peak of my childhood dance career, my health started to plummet, and four years later I still have not recovered. It all began just one week after performing in a ballet at the Metropolitan Opera House, the day after I received the sacrament of Confirmation, and two weeks before I was to attend a summer intensive at the second most prestigious dance school in the United States. A bad strain of ligaments in my foot aggravated a previously undiscovered break in my ankle bone which now required surgery. Then I developed appendicitis, requiring another surgery. The two surgeries in close succession caused severe damage to my neurological and immune systems and weakened me to a point that no doctor could treat or even fully understand my situation. As I continued to push my body to continue ballet, my body pushed back and I ended up fracturing my spine, ending my ballet career.” Throughout the year leading up to my Confirmation, I experienced Jesus in ways I never had before. I saw His love and mercy magnified through study of the Gospels and discussions of His ministry. I started going to church every Sunday and experienced the power of the Eucharist. Before the confirmation classes with my parish priest, no one had ever taught me so clearly about Jesus’ love for me. His instruction clarified my growing understanding of who God truly is. Jesus, who I’d always known to be my Savior, was now my dearest friend and becoming my greatest love. He wasn’t just a statue hanging in the church, a character in stories; He was real, and He was the embodiment of Truth, Truth I had never known I was seeking. Through that year of study I made the decision to fully live my life for Jesus. I wanted nothing more than to become more like Him. Since my injury, as my health bounced up and down and took me off the path I expected to be on forever, I struggled to remain hopeful. I lost ballet and even some friends. I could barely get out of bed to go to school, and when I did make it, I couldn’t stay the entire day. The life I had always known was crumbling and I needed to understand why. Why did I have to suffer so much and lose so much? Did I do something wrong? Would it lead to something good? Each time I started to heal, some new health issue arose and knocked me down again. Yet even at my lowest points, Jesus always pulled me back to my feet, and back to Him. Finding Purpose I learned to offer my suffering to God for the sake of others and watched it change their lives for the better. As things were taken away, space was made for better opportunities. For instance, not being able to dance ballet gave me the space to photograph the dancers at my ballet school and showcase their talent. I finally had spare time to attend my brother’s football games and started taking photos of him in action. I soon ended up photographing the whole team, including boys who never had anyone come out to watch them play, let alone capture their skills in a photograph. When I could hardly walk, I would sit and make rosaries to give to others. As I began to feel worse physically, my heart grew lighter because I was given the chance not merely to live for myself, but to live for God and see His love and compassion at work in others and in my own heart. Listening to Jesus Yet it is not always easy for me to find the good in suffering. I often find myself wishing the pain would be taken away, wishing I could live a normal life without physical agony. Yet one evening last March I received clear insight into my eternal questions. I was in adoration, sitting on the hard wood of the church pew, gazing at the crucifix in the dull candlelight and for the first time I wasn’t just looking at the crucifix—I was truly seeing it. My body ached all over. My wrists and ankles throbbed painfully, my back hurt from the latest injury, my head was tender from a chronic migraine, and every so often, a sharp pain pierced my ribs and knocked me to the ground. Before me, Jesus hung from the cross with nails through His wrists and ankles, wounds from the whips lacerating His back, a crown of thorns painfully thrust upon His head, and a gash between His ribs where the spear had pierced His side–a spear that was meant to ensure He was dead. A thought struck me so forcefully, that I nearly fell over in the pew. Every pain I felt, even the smallest suffering, my Savior felt as well. My back pain and headaches, even my conviction that nobody else could understand, He understands it all because He experienced it too, and continues to bear it with us. Suffering is not a punishment, but a gift we can use to grow closer to God and to shape our character. While physically I have lost a lot, spiritually I have gained. When all that we think is so important gets stripped away, then we can see what truly matters. That night in adoration as I looked at Jesus’ wounds so similar to my own, I realized that if He bore it all for me, then I can bear it all for Him. If we want to be more like Jesus, we’re going to have to walk the same journey He did, Cross and all. But He will never leave us to walk alone. We need only to look at the Cross and remember He is right there walking beside us through it all.
By: Sarah Barry
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