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It isn’t easy to say ‘I forgive’ and truly forgive until you do this…
“For freedom Christ has set us free.” (Galatians 5:1)
I’m sure the majority of people would be aware that forgiveness is at the very heart of the Christian message, but many would be surprised to learn that not forgiving somebody can result in physical pain. I know this from personal experience. Several times, I have witnessed the power of the Holy Spirit in healing this terrible, often paralysing, sickness.
The first words Jesus spoke, as He was dying on the Cross, were words of forgiveness (Luke 23:34). His loving sacrifice was the moment that mankind had awaited, – to set them free from sin and death. Forgiveness was again on His lips when He met His disciples after He rose from the dead, giving them the power to grant it on His behalf (John 20:19-23). When the Apostles asked Him how to pray, Jesus responded with a prayer allowing us to address God as ‘Our Father’, and asking Him to ‘forgive us our trespasses (sins) as we forgive those who trespass (sin) against us’ (Matthew 6:12). If we expect forgiveness ourselves, we must forgive others (Matthew 5:23-26; 6:14).
Unforgiveness can be likened to a clenched fist. A clenched fist is tense, and is often clenched in anger. It is really only fit for one thing; to hit somebody, or at least to be ready to. If that fist does hit somebody, then it is a fair assumption to expect one back, creating more animosity. If the fist is clenched, it is not open. An open hand is able to receive but if it is closed and clenched it is not possible to accept what may be offered. Alternatively, when we open our hands so we can receive, we are also able to give what we receive.
As I prayed about this at Mass, I had an image of a walking stick, and realized that when we do not forgive, it hinders our walk through life. After Mass, a man approached as we chatted outside, asking us to take a picture of him outside the church. When I noticed his walking stick, I had a sense that his sickness was caused by unforgiveness. As the conversation continued, he began to tell me about his past, concluding with a request to keep him in my prayers, since he was suffering with a bad back.
I invited him to pray with me immediately because Jesus wanted to heal him, but it would require something from him. Intrigued and open, he agreed, asking what would be required. I told him that he would need to forgive the people he had just mentioned and anybody else who had injured him. I could see him struggling internally, so I encouraged him with the assurance that he didn’t have to rely on his own strength to forgive. If he forgave in the name of Jesus, then Jesus would empower him, lead him and set him free. His eyes lit up as he whispered, “With my Lord’s strength, yes, I can forgive.”
I led him in a prayer, which ended by praying for the healing of his back by laying hands on the problem area (Mark 16:15-18). I told him to do what Jesus said and claim the healing by giving thanks to God in the belief that he had received it, (Mark 11:22-25). This was on Friday evening.
On Sunday, he sent me a text message, “Praise the Lord, Jesus has healed my back.” I praised the Lord indeed, thanking Him with all my heart. I was particularly struck by this detail. We had asked for the healing on the Friday by the power and merits of the Cross. The answer was received on the third day, Sunday, the day of Resurrection.
C.S. Lewis once wrote, “People think forgiveness is a lovely thing until they have something to forgive.” It is important to know that forgiveness is an act of the will; it is something we choose. That is not to say it is an easy choice, as often it can seem like the hardest, most painful decision in the world to make, but when we face everything in the Name of Jesus, ‘through Him, with Him, and in Him’, we learn that ‘with God nothing will be impossible’ (Luke 1:37). It is essential that we ask ourselves if there is anybody in our lives that we need to forgive. Jesus teaches us, “Whenever you stand up to pray, if you hold anything against anyone, forgive them, so that your Father in Heaven may forgive you your sins’ (Mark 11:25). Therefore, we must bring everything to Jesus and allow Him to set us free, because “If the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed.” (John 8:36).
Sean Booth is a member of the Lay Missionaries of Charity and ‘Men of St. Joseph’ from Manchester, England and is currently studying a Bachelor of Divinity Undergraduate Degree at Maryvale Institute in Birmingham, England.
We have all been given the gift of time, but what do we do with it? Sometimes I have trouble understanding what God is trying to tell me. I often make Him repeat Himself. Last year, over and over, I felt the Lord was placing these words on my heart –“Put a hedge around it.” I eventually asked for clarification and this scripture came to mind: “There was a landowner who planted a vineyard, put a hedge around it, dug a wine press in it, and built a tower.” (Matthew 21:33) I knew that hedges were bushes grown closely together, often to enclose gardens. When I asked God what He wanted me to enclose, I came to understand that I was to guard my time, especially my time with Him. So, I began to be more careful with my morning routine. I became more conscious of my waking thoughts, dreams, and songs running through my head. I began to journal. I strove to raise my heart to the Lord with praise and thanksgiving before even stepping out of bed. Instead of sifting through social media feeds or reading the news, I poured over the daily Mass readings each day, with my morning coffee in hand. I am guarding my interior life. I am guarding my time with the Lord. I feel rather like a watchman at daybreak. When I sought out a spiritual director this past year, the first thing he asked was if I had a daily prayer routine. His number one goal for me was to keep a regular and consistent prayer life. My husband and I now pray more faithfully as a couple. We have begun to pray more intentionally at mealtimes, adding heart-felt prayers along with the ones we know by heart. At the end of the day, we are keeping our commitment to pray as a family. I pray in the car. I pray in church. I pray on my morning jog. Sometimes I walk the circumference of a park while praying the Rosary or Divine Mercy, putting a hedge of prayer around it. I believe these new habits are already bearing fruit. I have noticed a decline in questionable activity at the park next door. I have also noticed my husband and I are working more on the same page and are more willing to laugh off our differences. But most importantly, I have noticed a change in myself. I am more at peace. I am more in tune with what the Lord is speaking to my heart. I am more prepared to meet the challenges of each day. God desires us all to pray without ceasing, but the first step is to put prayer hedges around our days. We need to offer up the first fruits of our day to the Lord and end our day with prayer. Our prayer hedges will differ, but we must be sure to put them up to smite the tactics of the devil. God is ever drawing close to us, and He wants us to draw close to Him. But we are easily distracted. We need to diligently guard our time. Prayer hedges will lead to a more fruitful place.
By: Denise Jasek
MoreI discovered the transformative power of the “Prayer of Abandonment” by Blessed Charles de Foucauld through one of my professors at graduate school, shortly after my husband and I became foster parents to a sibling group of three. I was reeling from the transition to motherhood, and my teacher suggested that this prayer might help me find the peace I so badly needed. “If you want to change your life,” the kindly priest explained, “say this prayer every day … and if you want to transform your marriage, say it with your husband!” Eagerly, I took the little prayer card, taped it to my bathroom mirror, and read it aloud each morning: Father, I abandon myself into Your hands; Do with me what You will. Whatever You may do, I thank You: I am ready for all, I accept all. Let only Your will be done in me, and in all Your creatures. I wish no more than this, O Lord. Into Your hands I commend my soul: I offer it to You with all the love of my heart, For I love You, Lord, and so need to give myself, To surrender myself into Your hands without reserve, And with boundless confidence, For You are my Father. For nearly twenty years, this heartfelt prayer of simple trust, based on the Lord’s Prayer (the Our Father), has been a constant source of light for me, especially as my husband and I continue to parent these children, two of whom we adopted in 2005. Through all the joys and sorrows of family life, this prayer rings true to me, and I find myself offering it in a new way now that my mother has joined our family. When dementia troubles her mind, this prayer helps me to walk with her without fear, with boundless confidence in the One who loves us both.
By: Heidi Hess Saxton
MoreAre you praying for a miracle? Here’s a wonder-working formula for you! Several years ago my husband and I decided to face the inevitability of mortality head on. We dove into the world of wills, trusts, executors, probates, lawyers etc. and tried to sort our earthly possessions. It was very surreal trying to catalogue our possessions by value. Is a vehicle worth more than our wedding album? Would our children understand the value of memories, sentimental objects or family heirlooms the way their father and I did? What lasting legacy could we leave each of our children that would be valuable or meaningful for them after we had gone home to the Lord? Fortunately, God had the answers to all my questions and, just as in Scripture, He used stories to reveal these truths. Trinkets and Treasures This story revolves around our second son, James (or Jimmy as we have always called him), when he was about 6 years old. We raised our family in a wonderful, quaint New England area that offered many wholesome family events for community interaction, such as the annual country fair our church held each Fall. Our family was actively involved with the preparation of this fair and looked forward to it every year. Our children grew up helping where they could and when they were needed. As a result, our kids were familiar faces to other parish volunteers who also helped make the fair happen. Jimmy had learned which booths were apt to have treasures that piqued his interest. He particularly enjoyed the various White Elephant and Rummage Sale booths. So, in the weeks leading up to the fair, he would volunteer to help set up those booths as a strategy for inspecting any incoming goodies. Jimmy had a particular interest in all kinds of trinkets and was blessed with a keen eye for treasures and a knack for bartering for them as well. (Just a side note...he still does!) One year, on the day of the country fair, when all the preparations had been completed and we were ready to enjoy the festivities, Jimmy asked if he could go off in search of treasures. With a small pocketful of money and our blessing, he happily and independently set off on his quest. The rest of us spent the day wherever we were needed to make the day a success. The full day of festivities was exciting and fun for our family, but it also proved to be long and tiring, especially for our little ones. At the end of the fair we wearily returned home and took turns sharing the day’s events and displaying any of the treasures we had acquired. When it was his turn, Jimmy proudly pulled a handful of precious knick-knacks from his pocket. Methodically, he explained their importance to him and how he had bargained for each item. He saved his most valuable find till the end. As he slowly reached into his little pocket, he carefully extracted a long, worn, golden chain holding an equally worn golden cross. As he lifted it high for all of us to admire, he radiated a smile that practically exclaimed “TA DA!” My mother’s heart leaped with joy. This precious child of God had instinctively realized the intrinsic value of the worn cross. I hugged him at least a half dozen times to share his joy, before sending them all off to bed. A Tiny Crack Not long after they had disappeared to their rooms, a long drawn out cry of “Moooooom!” echoed down the stairwell. It was followed by a distinct distressed sobbing that indicated something was unusually wrong. Praying that no one was hurt, I dashed up the stairs to find Jimmy standing in his doorway pointing toward the corner of his room. “What is it? What happened? What is the matter?” I rattled off my standard motherly questions as I scanned the room for possible answers. Finding no apparent explanation, I stooped down to hear what was making him so distressed. Trying to catch his breath through the tears, he explained that the chain had slipped through his fingers and fallen through a very tiny crack in the floorboards. His tear-stained eyes were fixed on me, imploring me to recover his precious treasure. I asked his older brother for his rendition of events and he verified Jimmy’s story. Plan A involved shining a flashlight into the tiny hole, hoping that it had fallen straight down where I could see it and then figure out how to retrieve it. But…no such luck. Moving on to Plan B, my husband gathered his tools and began prying up floorboards. Although we all scoured the area carefully, the chain was nowhere to be found. While my husband reattached the floorboards, I tried to console our disappointed, tired little boy. We were all worn out, and it was apparent that nothing more could be done that evening. However, as we began to say nightly prayers with the boys, a thought came to me. When I was a child, just about Jimmy’s age, I had a toy jump rope that was very special to me. Somehow the jump rope had been misplaced and I felt very sad and helpless. I stopped and asked God to find it for me and place it in a specific location for me to find the next morning. To my delight, it was there the next day. God had answered my prayer and I have never stopped praying or trusting Him since then. (Read this story in my article “Just Like a Child” for the September/October 2019 issue of Shalom Tidings at shalomtidings.org). Recalling that feeling, I relayed my story to the boys and we prayed in the same way for God to help Jimmy. Jimmy asked for God to place the necklace on his dresser in a little container where he had placed other important treasures. We ended the long day with that prayer. Timeless Treasure The next morning I woke up to another long drawn out cry of, “Moooooom!” Gathering my wits and my robe about me, the same list of questions echoed through my head as on the previous evening. However, instead of finding a crying son in the doorway, I saw Jimmy smiling from ear to ear as the worn golden chain and cross dangled once again from the grasp of his little hand. “Did you find my chain last night?” he asked excitedly. I gasped. I knew that question! I had asked that same question to my mother many years ago, regarding my jump rope, when I discovered it had been located. I knew the impact my answer was about to have on my son. I slowly shook my head and reached out to hold Jimmy’s little hand. “No, Jimmy. I did not find your chain. You asked for God to help you and He answered your prayer.” I let my answer sink into his little heart for a few moments. My husband and my other sleepy son appeared in the doorway asking, “What’s going on?” Jimmy directed the same question at them, “Did you find my chain last night?” Neither could explain how the chain had appeared in the little treasure box. God had visited Jimmy that evening and it was time for me to pass on the lesson I had learned as a child. “Jimmy, when we pray to God, He listens to us. Last night you needed help and you asked God to help you in a very specific way. God heard you and helped you. I want you to always remember this moment. I want you to know that, you can ALWAYS ask God to help you no matter what you need or how old you get. He will always help you. Do you understand?” He looked down at his little cross and nodded. The impact of what had just happened began to take root in him and in all of us. None of us have forgotten that day and we have shared the story of the little cross to the children that were born after Jimmy. Precious Legacy My husband and I finally concluded our deliberations on how to distribute our belongings to our children. They may not fully understand the monetary or sentimental value of our earthly possessions and that is okay. When I recall this story, God reminds of what He said in Matthew 6:19-20 “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. “But store up for yourselves treasures in Heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys, and where thieves do not break in or steal.” God tells us in Scripture not to store up things on this earth that will wither and pass away. He tells us to store up our treasures in Heaven. We have stressed to our children the importance of prayer and the eternal value of having faith in God. I have found peace and comfort in knowing that we passed on to our children the importance of having a close prayerful relationship with God. They, in turn, are passing their faith and their stories about God on to their families. Praying forward our faith has become our everlasting legacy and heavenly treasure. Today, I want to encourage you. It is never too late to start your own legacy. Pray for your faith to increase and then pray forward your faith to those God places in your life. God bless you dear brothers and sisters.
By: Teresa Ann Weider
MorePraying for your loved ones? Here's a story to keep you hopeful Only Yesterday I remember it like it was yesterday—sitting in a dimly-lit living room with my future father-in-law after a holiday meal. It was the first time I had met my boyfriend’s parents, and I was noticeably nervous. The family had scattered after dinner, leaving Harry and I to engage in small talk by the fire. I had heard so much about him and was excited to have this opportunity to converse. Harry was truly larger than life with an incredible sense of humor. He was the father of six children—hardworking, an equestrian record holder and a veteran of an elite military organization. I was dating his oldest son. I had admired him long before I met him and hoped to make a good impression. I, too, came from a large family, and was a devout Catholic—something I hoped he would view favorably. I knew that Harry had grown up in the Catholic Church, but left long before he married and started a family. This was something that piqued my curiosity and I wanted to know more—to understand why. What could have made him leave this faith that I, even as a teenager, loved so dearly? When the topic of religion eventually came up in conversation, I excitedly shared with him my devotion to the faith. His response was unexpected and heart-sinking. He nonchalantly, almost coldly, stated that he was once a Catholic—even an altar boy, but now he was not sure if he could even remember the Lord’s Prayer. Wanting to respond without sounding disrespectful, I quietly mentioned how sad that was—and I deeply felt it. This conversation left an impression on me and I kept this memory closely tucked away. Glimmering Lights The years came and went, and my husband and I held Harry close in prayer— hoping that one day he would return to the faith. Harry was there for my marriage to his son in the Catholic Church. He was there for the sacramental celebrations for our children, and he was even there the day his own son became a Catholic. Unable to hold back my tears of joy as I watched my husband’s baptism, the memory of my conversation with his father, ten years earlier, came flooding back and I felt the very slightest heat of anger—anger that my husband’s father had cheated him out of a faith-filled upbringing. My husband wanted more for his own children. He had not just been supportive of raising our family in the Catholic faith, he himself felt an inner longing for more. His initiation into the Catholic Church was a wonderful example of his own deep faith and trust. I saw small glimmers of faith in Harry over the years, and I always believed there was still some conviction buried deep in his heart. When my husband was diagnosed with cancer, my father-in-law told me in confidence that he was praying to Our Lady for him, as he had always had a deep devotion to her. This was something he had never told anyone, and he confided in me. I felt a genuine happiness in knowing that this dedication, although unseen, was still in there. Optimistically, my husband and I continued to pray for Harry’s full return to the faith. A Priceless Gift The year 2020 was cruel to many, and my dear father-in-law was one of its victims. Having taken a bad fall, he was placed in a rehabilitation facility with no personal contact for weeks. His health was beginning to fail, and this strong, vibrant man was beginning to shrink—in stature as well as in light—as the onset of dementia had also become clear. My husband decided to take a chance and ask his father if he would like a visit from a Catholic priest. To our utter surprise, he eagerly agreed—and asked me to supply a copy of the Lord’s Prayer to refresh his memory. Once again, my conversation with him as a teenager immediately came to mind, but this time I felt excitement and hope. In the days that followed, my husband accompanied a priest to his father’s home as mobility was limited now. Harry confidently participated in the Sacrament of Penance and accepted the offering of Holy Communion from his own son. Receiving both of these sacraments for the first time in nearly sixty years was a priceless gift. Harry received the Anointing of the Sick as well, and these precious sacraments indisputably gave him the graces to live out his final weeks in peace. In his final days, his son brought him a rosary, and prayed it around his bedside with our children—knowing that Harry was now walking the fine line between this life and the next. As a devoted child of Our Lady, this seemed a fitting goodbye. Harry passed away peacefully soon afterwards, and our hearts will forever be filled with gratitude to our merciful God and Our Lady for bringing Harry back to the faith before he passed on. Knowing that Harry is at peace with the heavenly angels is of great comfort to us. It may have taken him decades to acknowledge it, after years of unceasing prayers, and a final chance offer from his loving son, but his faith was there. It was always there.
By: Mary Therese Emmons
MoreDiscover a powerful prayer that takes just 7 minutes, and opens the door of Mercy It was a warm, balmy day. The moss hanging from the massive water oak trees in our front yard blew sideways dusting the grass with debris. I had just checked the mailbox when Lia, one of my best friends, pulled into the driveway. She hurried over and I could see on her face that she was extremely upset. “My mom went into the hospital two nights ago. Her cancer cells have spread from her lungs to her brain,” Lia said. Lia’s beautiful brown eyes shimmered with tears that streamed down her cheeks. Seeing her was heartbreaking. I took her hand. “Can I go with you to see her,” I asked. “Yes, I’m headed there this afternoon,” she said. “Okay, I’ll meet you there,” I said. When I walked into the hospital room, Lia was at her mom’s bedside. Her mom looked up at me, her face twisted in pain. I hope it’s okay that I came to see you today,” I said. “Of course. It’s nice to see you again,” she said. “Have you heard from that priest friend of yours,” she asked, her voice weak but kind. “Yes, we speak off and on” I said. “I’m so glad I got to see him that day,” she said. Lia and I had been part of a Rosary group that met every week during the time her mom was first diagnosed. A priest, well known for his spiritual gifts, had come to one of our meetings and we were eager for him to join us in prayer and hear our confessions. Lia’s mom was raised Catholic, but when she married, she decided to assimilate into her husband’s family and adopt his Greek Orthodox faith. However, over the years, she felt less and less at home in either faith community. Worried that her mom had been away from The Church and sacraments for so many years, Lia invited her to our Rosary group so she could meet our special priest. Not till the priest was preparing to leave did Lia’s mom finally walk through the back door. Lia shot me a relieved smile. Her mom and the priest talked alone for about twenty minutes. Later, Lia called to tell me her mom couldn’t say enough about how kind and loving the priest had been to her. She told Lia that after they talked, he had heard her confession, and she had been filled with peace. Now, lying in the hospital bed, she no longer looked like herself. The color of her skin and the look in her eye revealed the ravages of a long progressive disease. “I was wondering if you would like to pray together,” I asked. “There is special prayer called the Divine Mercy Chaplet. It is a powerful prayer Jesus gave to a nun named Sister Faustina to spread His mercy throughout the world. It takes about seven minutes and one of the promises of the prayer is that those who say it will enter through the door of mercy rather than judgment. I pray it often,” I said. Lia’s mom looked up at me with one eyebrow raised. “How can that be true,” she asked. “What do you mean?” I said. “Are you telling me that if a hardened criminal prays that prayer minutes before he dies, he enters through the door of mercy rather than judgment? That doesn’t seem right,” she said. “Well, if a hardened criminal actually takes the time to pray it and pray it sincerely, then there must be hope in him, despite all he has done. Who is to say if and when the heart opens to God? I believe that where there is life, there is hope.” She stared at me intently. I continued. “If your son were a hardened criminal, wouldn’t you love him even though you hated his crimes? Wouldn’t you always hope for his change of heart because of the great love you have for him?” “Yes,” she said weakly. “God loves us much more than we could ever love our children and He is always ready to enter any heart with His mercy. He waits for those moments patiently and with great desire because He loves us so much.” She nodded. “That makes sense. Yes, I’ll pray it with you,” she said. The three of us prayed the Divine Mercy Chaplet together, chatted a few more minutes, and then I left. Later that evening Lia called me. “My mom’s nurse called to tell me that right after I left the hospital, mom lost all lucidity.” We grieved together, prayed and hoped for her mom’s recovery. Lia’s mom died a few days later. On the night of her death, I had a dream. In my dream, I walked into her hospital room to find her sitting up in bed, wearing a beautiful red dress. She looked radiant, full of life and joy, smiling from ear to ear. The night of the wake, when I approached the coffin to pay my respects, I was stunned to see her wearing a red dress! Chills ran up my spine. I had never been to a wake where the deceased wore a red dress. It was highly unconventional and completely unexpected. After the funeral, I grabbed Lia and pulled her aside. “What made you put a red dress on your mom,” I asked. “My sister and I discussed it and decided we would put mom in her favorite dress. Do you think we shouldn’t have done it?” she asked. “No, it’s not that. The night your mom died, I dreamed I walked into her hospital room, found her sitting up smiling from ear to ear…and wearing a red dress!” I said. Lia’s jaw dropped and her eyes widened. “What? No way,” she said. “Yes, way,” I said. With tears streaming down her cheeks Lia said, “You and I were the last people she saw before her brain shut down. And that means the last thing she did was pray the Divine Mercy Chaplet!” I grabbed Lia and hugged her. “I’m so grateful you came with me that day, and we prayed with my mom, and that I was able to be with her before she lost her consciousness,” she said. “I can’t get over the fact that you saw her in your dream so happy and wearing a red dress. I think Jesus is telling us she really did enter through the door of mercy.” she said. “Thank you, Jesus.” “Amen,” I said.
By: Rosanne Pappas
More“I walk by Faith, not by sight” chuckles Mario Forte as he shares an astonishing life witness I was born with glaucoma, so at the beginning of my life, I only had partial sight in my left eye and none at all in my right eye. Over the years I have had more than 30 surgeries—the first when I was only three months old...At the age of seven, the doctors removed my right eye in the hope of preserving the sight in my left eye. When I was twelve years old, I got hit by a car while I was crossing the road on my way home from school. After becoming airborne—thought I was superman there for a bit—I landed with an almighty thud and ended up with a retinal detachment, among other things I had three months off school recovering and undergoing more surgery, so I had to repeat Grade Seven. Everything is Possible As a child, blindness was normal to me because I could not compare it to anything else. But God gave me an insight. From a very early age, before I had received any official instruction, I would talk to God, just like any other person because I was so used to communicating with people that I could not see. I could only tell the difference between light and dark, but one day, in the blink of an eye, everything went black—like a light switching off. Although I have been in total darkness for more than 30 years, the grace of God gives me the courage to keep going. Now, it is not the physical light I see, but God’s light within. Without Him, I would not be any better than a piece of wood. The Holy Spirit makes everything possible. Sometimes people even forget that I am blind because I am able to move around the house, operate a computer and look after myself. This is thanks to my parents who always encouraged me to do things by myself. My father was an electrician who took me on site with him to help me understand his trade, even getting me to install power points and switches. He taught me how to think logically so I could adapt and improvise when things went wrong. My mother, with her caring, loving nature, sowed the seeds for my faith. She made sure that we prayed the Rosary and the Divine Mercy chaplet together every day, so those prayers are engrained into my memory. They enabled me to successfully graduate with an IT degree. With their support, I would get in touch with the individual lecturers to get the course outline before the term started. Then we would go to the library to copy all the relevant materials so the Royal Blind Society could transcribe them for me. A Higher Call In my teens, I had a remarkable experience of God calling me. At that stage, I still had some sight in my left eye. While I was praying in the church one day, the main altar was suddenly illuminated with an intense light and an interior voice spoke tenderly, saying, “Come, Come to me.” This happened three times. Ever since, I have felt His hand protecting me with a love and mercy which I don’t deserve. This calling led me to consider if it were possible for me to become a priest or a deacon. That proved to be unrealistic but my Theology studies deepened my faith. I began to lead devotion to the Divine Mercy in a charismatic prayer group with the support of the parish priest. Despite all the setbacks I have suffered, I am grateful that I can be of service to the Lord and the people that I have met through the events I organize—the Divine Mercy devotions, overnight adoration and 40 Days for Life—have also assisted me after the deaths of my parents, my sister and my niece. They have become my family and help me weekly with domestic duties and special transport needs. Deep in My Heart The most tragic events in my life are not the lack of my sight but the loss of my closest relations, so I am especially grateful that these friends come with me to the cemetery to have a meal by the gravesides of my loved ones and pray the Divine Mercy chaplet for their souls. I try to focus on the positives—what I have, rather than on what I lack. I strive to do the best I can to carry out God’s commandments to love. Every day, I am determined to put God’s will first and put the Gospel into action. Saint Paul said, “We walk by faith, not by sight.” (2 Corinthians 5:7) I often joke that I literally do this. That little verse speaks volumes. We will not see the fruits of our labour in this life. It is such a joy to work in God’s vineyard. Jesus suffered and died for me. Every single person can say this. Anyone who wants to know Him can come to receive the Lord. I give thanks and praise to the Lord that He has given us the opportunity to receive His glorious presence into our being. His living Word can revive us with the hope of the Resurrection, so that we can live each day in His presence and carry out His command to love. In my heart, I sing Alleluia! Eternal God, in whom mercy is endless and the treasury of compassion inexhaustible; look kindly upon us and increase Your mercy that in difficult moments we might not despair, but with great confidence submit ourselves to Your holy will, which is love and mercy itself. Amen.
By: Mario Forte
MoreThe ROSARY is an intimate spiritual conversation you are having with the Blessed Virgin Mary and GOD to present your fears, your needs and desires. The Rosary gives YOU Spiritual Power to accomplish anything you want in life and overcome the impossible. This meditative spiritual conversation can be done at anytime and anywhere you go. You can do it in a group setting or by yourself. You can pray the Rosary with your kids, with your spouse or the person you are dating, and with your friends. You can make it a family affair. You can also recite the Rosary while cooking, driving, taking public transport, waiting in line, or taking a shower. There are no limits to where you can pray the Rosary. Every time you pray the Rosary, you become more spiritually empowered, you gain more healing, more confidence, more inspiration, more miraculous changes in your life, more spiritual awareness and more divine graces in your life. YES...the Rosary carries MIRACULOUS POWER! Reciting the Rosary, gives you peace for yourself and for the world, and higher purpose, strength, victory, healing, miracles, serenity, clarity, determination, vision, unity and harmony for yourself and for your family. More blessings can enter your life when you recite the Rosary! Every time you pray the Rosary, your Soul is refilled with renewed hope, inspiration, energy and healing. I am a testament to that. Each Hail Mary is a moment of Grace, a moment of Mercy, a moment of Healing, a moment of Hope, a moment of Gratitude, a moment of Humility and a moment of Surrender. Whenever you have doubts, or you encounter an obstacle in reaching your goals; any time you feel lonely, depressed or anxious; every time you are feeling bullied, rejected or as if the whole world is against you, pray the Rosary fervently with belief and love in your heart to fortify your mind, body and soul. This spiritually empowering tool will encourage you not to give up on yourself. Use the Rosary to make personal requests and to pray for the needs of others and the world, especially for healing. In that space of contemplation and prayer, as you offer your gratitude to God and the Blessed Virgin Mary for the events of the Gospel, you can receive the spiritual guidance you need. If you don’t know about the Rosary, this is your chance to discover its power and give it a try! The Rosary is one of the greatest legacies you can leave your children and a fantastic gift to share with your family and friends.
By: Dahla Louis
MoreDid you wake up today to lead a mediocre life? You are called to a greater, better and higher plan. Signs and Wonders "Truly, I say to you, he who believes in Me will also do the works that I do; and greater works than these will he do, because I go to the Father. Whatever you ask in My name, I will do it, that the Father may be glorified in the Son; if you ask anything in My name, I will do it.” (John 14:12-14). Yes, you have read that correctly, Jesus Christ told us we would do greater things than Him! Greater things than God Who took on human flesh and dwelt amongst us! Can we really take that in? Did Jesus mean this literally? How can we interpret that? Greater than curing lepers, blind people, or deaf people? Even greater than raising the dead? Could it be that Jesus was telling us that we would literally do the works He did, but greater in number since He was ready to ascend to His Father? Do we really believe that when Jesus told us that ‘signs’ would ‘accompany those who believe’, He was talking to us. That He literally meant it when He said ‘in my name they will cast out demons; they will speak in new tongues; they will pick up serpents, and if they drink any deadly thing, it will not hurt them; they will lay their hands on the sick and they will recover’ (Mark 16:17-18). For the past few years I have volunteered with a local charity in my home city of Manchester, England, where different local Christian churches, of different denominations, take it in turns to host homeless asylum seekers every night of the week—giving them a bed for the night, food in the evening and breakfast in the morning before they leave. On Saturday night it was the turn of my Citycentre Catholic church. I was often blessed to be part of the sleepover team, staying over and sharing meals. Simply spending time with these beautiful men was a blessing beyond words. Many of them were Muslim. Chaos Theory There were many miracles over the years. One in particular stands out, in a supernatural way. The night started, as usual, when I set off with another volunteer, a good friend of mine, to collect the men. As we rang the bell and entered the building, I was met by a lady who gave me a piece of paper with a name on it. She told me it was the name of a man who had been brought in earlier by the police from the streets in a stupor from taking drugs. Although she assured me that he was okay now after sleeping it off, I wasn’t happy with that and asked to see the man myself. When we met, I looked into his eyes and saw such darkness. I felt instantly repelled, so I told him that, unfortunately, he would be unable to stay with us that night. This was difficult because I knew it meant a night on the streets for him, but it was clearly not the right thing for him to come and stay. I explained that we had been informed he had taken drugs, that there were women at the shelter, and we had the other men to think about too. We could not babysit one man and neglect the rest. Although he insisted that he would be okay, I told him sadly that it would not be possible for him to stay with us that night because the charity had a zero tolerance policy on drugs. He started shouting and swearing that he would go anyway, but I told him that he would not be let in without us. As he stormed off into the night, a fight broke out in another part of the room with two other men. It was chaos from the word go! Consequently, I had to inform a second man that he couldn’t join us. This also didn’t go down well. I assured him of our prayers, but this was little consolation to a man who was already irate, troubled, and probably intoxicated. Advising God? As we walked off together, the other men came to shake my hand, thanking me for not allowing the two men to join us since they had both caused many problems for them each night. They were relieved and so grateful for a night’s peace. As we walked along, we encountered a police van with flashing lights in the middle of the road. A police officer shouted orders for everybody to get back, stretching out his arms to keep people away from a man who lay on the ground unconscious. Another policeman knelt beside him checking his neck for a pulse because he had stopped breathing. I quickly realized that it was the first Muslim man who had stormed off minutes earlier. Immediately, I swooped under the policeman’s arms and knelt down placing my hands on him. “What do you think you’re doing?” yelled the policeman, but I insisted that I needed to pray for him. Immediately, I called upon the Lord. ‘You breathed life into this world at the beginning of time, breathe life into this man. Jesus, You called Your friend Lazarus from the tomb, please raise this man now’. I hesitated as I thought to myself, “Who do I think I am to advise God with earthly words? This is God I am addressing.” How inadequate my human words were. It was coming from my heart, of course. Then I began to pray using the supernatural gift of The Holy Spirit which I have been blessed with—the gift of praying in tongues (1 Corinthians 12:1-11 & 1 Corinthians 14:1-5). When My Heart Sunk Saint Paul tells us that ‘The Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but the Spirit Himself intercedes for us with sighs too deep for words. And He who searches the hearts of men knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God’ (Romans 8:26-27). I have no idea how long I knelt there praying, but suddenly the policeman checking the pulse exclaimed, “I can feel a pulse!!!”. My heart sang. I felt elated and could not stop thanking Jesus. Moments later, an ambulance arrived. It was such a blessing to see the heart monitor picking up a heartbeat on the screen. Again, I thanked and praised Jesus with total awe and wonder. I had been totally oblivious to my surroundings since I had acted purely on instinct. I believe that it was God who urged me instantly to this man’s side. As I stood up, I realized that a bigger crowd had gathered. Again I was greeted with handshakes from the asylum seekers, thanking me for being open enough to pray for him. A few weeks later, I was volunteering again at the night shelter when another Muslim man came up to me with a massive smile on his face, eager to tell me about this man that I had prayed with. He told me that the man had been addicted to drink and drugs ever since he arrived in England three years ago. When he had bumped into him just a few days earlier, he was no longer addicted to drink and drugs so he was no longer sleeping on the streets because he had moved into his own home. I was amazed all over again and praised God. However, The Lord was not finished there. In the midst of this beautiful moment, I was able to perceive a deep pain in this man sitting before me. I was able to share the Gospel with him and we prayed together. We have a God who never stops pouring out blessings. God, indeed, is great! We must have faith. Jesus tells us the smallest seeds of faith are enough to move mountains (Mark 11:22-25) and ‘with God all things are possible’ (Matthew 19:26). Our Triune God, The Creator, The Redeemer, and The Sanctifier; Father, Son and Holy Spirit lives inside each baptized Christian believer. We must really believe that and live it. ‘Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and for ever’ (Hebrews 13:8) and His words are ‘Spirit and life’ (John 6:63).
By: Sean Booth
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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