Tag: healing
Healing
In light of current events, I’ve been overwhelmed with emotion. I’ve often felt frightened, anxious, ashamed, convicted, angry, resentful, and confused. I’ve had a hard time making sense of things and have prayed for cunning eyes and the grace to see Truth amidst the many voices and headlines that seem to assault me every time I glance at my phone…which is basically every spare second of my time because I’m an addict. Working on it.
In response to that, I’ve been trying to be more disciplined about reading Scripture. Every day I try to start my morning by reading the day’s readings and devotions I subscribe to. I’ve been opening up my bible to read the scriptures in deeper context and to take time to really meditate on them instead of just reading them on my phone. It has been a life-giving practice.
I rarely have a hard time finding a way to connect with the day’s readings, but today the readings just gutted me. It was like they were written specifically for this very moment in history.
My eyes are spent with tears, my stomach churns; my bile is poured out on the ground at the brokenness of the daughter of my people, as children and infants collapse in the streets of the town.
They cry out to their mothers, “Where is bread and wine?” as they faint away like the wounded in the streets of the city, as their life is poured out in their mothers’ arms.
To what can I compare you – to what can I liken you – O daughter Jerusalem? What example can I give in order to comfort you, virgin daughter Zion? For your breach is vast as the sea; who could heal you?
Your prophets provided you visions of whitewashed illusion; they did not lay bare your guilt, in order to restore your fortunes; they saw for you only oracles of empty deceit.
Lamentations 2:11-14 NAB
Gracious, if that isn’t relevant. I’ve never really spent much time in Lamentations, because honestly it’s not very pleasant. I’m definitely guilty of seeking out scriptures of hope and promise and avoiding the uncomfortable ones. The introduction to Lamentations in my bible says, “…the reader is not so much engaged by the Book of Lamentations as assaulted by it.” I feel the same way about the news every dang day. “But with its unsparing focus on destruction, pain, and suffering the book serves an invaluable function as part of Scripture, witnessing to a biblical faith determined to express honestly the harsh realities of a violent world and providing contemporary readers the language to do the same“ (emphasis mine).
I think that’s where we are, friends. Or at least that’s where I am. I feel assaulted by the pain, horror, injustice, and evil in my country and overwhelmed by the fact that it comes from all sides. But I’m learning that I have to lean into the uncomfortable parts of life in order to grow. I have to examine my own heart, to identify my personal responsibility, look my sin in the face, and make it right. I’m heading to confession today.
I don’t understand the world. I don’t have all the answers and I have failed so many times. I feel pinned and inadequate, ill-equipped to grapple with the things going on in my country and paralyzed by the fear that whatever it is I do, it will never be “right” or “good enough.”
But here’s what I do know. Racism is a horror, an unequivocal sin, and a blight on our culture.
I also know that there’s a difference between justice and vengeance.
I know that we are all sinners and we are all deserving of mercy. Everyone.
I know that nothing will heal us but God, and that we’re not all called to fight injustice the same ways. But just as with the book of Lamentations, I am called to look sorrow and pain in the face and to listen. Everyone is allowed to feel their feelings, even if those feelings aren’t easy for me to understand or agree with. The only way forward for me is to push into the pain and to pray.
Cry out to the Lord from your heart, wall of daughter Zion! Let your tears flow like a torrent day and night; give yourself no rest, no relief for your eyes.
Rise up! Wail in the night, at the start of every watch; pour out your heart like water before the Lord: lift up your hands to him for the lives of your children, who collapse from hunger at the corner of every street.
Lamentations 2:18-19
Right now my heart feels like the Centurion in today’s gospel (Matthew 8:5-17): “Lord, I am not worthy to have you enter under my roof; only say the word and my servant will be healed.” I know that I am unable to heal anything on my own, unable to affect change without first being healed myself, without being radically transformed by Christ.
Healing is the central theme of the gospel and healing is what our world so desperately needs. Today in Matthew, Jesus heals the Centurion’s servant, Peter’s mother-in-law, and many more:
When it was evening, they brought him many who were possessed by demons, and he drove out the spirits by a word and cured all the sick, to fulfill what had been said by Isaiah the prophet:
‘He took away our infirmities and bore our diseases.’
Matthew 8:16-17
He’s here to heal us, friends. We’re never going to conquer evil or injustice or pandemics without looking into our hearts with humility and honesty, taking responsibility for our place in the world, and opening ourselves to the healing light of Christ.
We have to boldly seek truth, realizing that political leaders and organizers of movements may not be completely rooted in gospel truth, regardless of whichever cause they serve. We have to develop open hearts and cunning eyes, constantly checking in with Jesus. He must be the only one we serve, not politics, parties, or movements. To be clear, I’m not advocating that we take no action but rather that we carefully discern which organizations and individuals we support rather than being swept away by every social media post we see that has an eloquent quote (something I am guilty of). We have to do our research before we align ourselves with anything or anyone.
Healing starts with recognizing the belovedness and inherent dignity in each and every person, even those who seem the most evil and ugly to us. We are called to serve justice with mercy and reconciliation. We are required to take responsibility for our actions, even if that means admitting we were wrong. We have to work out our salvation with fear and trembling, leaning into the discomfort and hiding ourselves in the wounds of Jesus.
Here is the prayer of my heart:
Lord Jesus, you know our hearts, where they are aching, consumed by anxiety, gripped with fear, where they are hurt, wounded, and hardened. You know all the places we store up little hopes. You know our wants and needs and all the false gods we turn to. Give us the grace to turn to you today. Lord, bolster us where we feel weak, weary, and worried.
Jesus, heal our hearts. Bind up those things in us that rebel against you. Purify us and give us hearts of flesh in place of our hearts of stone.
Father, give us eyes to see you at work in our lives, hearts that break over what breaks yours. Give us ears to hear you speaking directly to us and the humility and obedience to serve you.
Reveal yourself to us, Lord, in every person we meet. Remove our blinders that we might see belovedness all around us.
Jesus, this world is broken. We are broken. Draw us to you and comfort us at your breast. Help us to recognize you offering yourself to us and give us the grace and fortitude to offer ourselves back to you.
Amen
Much Will Be Required
I read the following scripture passage yesterday, one that I’ve probably read or heard a bajillion times. It’s the story of Peter and John curing a crippled man and I can’t get it out of my head. It goes as follows:
Now Peter and John were going up to the temple area for the three o’clock hour of prayer. And a man crippled from birth was carried and placed a the gate of the temple called “the Beautiful Gate” every day to beg for alms from the people who entered the temple. When he saw Peter and John about to go into the temple, he asked for alms. But Peter looked intently at him, as did John, and said, “look at us.” He paid attention to them, expecting to receive something from them. Peter said, “I have neither silver nor gold, but what I do have I give you: in the name of Jesus Christ the Nazorean, rise and walk.” Then Peter took him by the right hand and raised him up, and immediately his feet and ankles grew strong. He leaped up, stood, and walked around, and went into the temple with them, walking and jumping and praising God. When all the people saw him walking and praising God, they recognized him as the one who used to sit begging at the Beautiful Gate of the temple, and they were filled with amazement and astonishment at what had happened to him.
Acts 3:1-10 NAB
As I read and reread this passage, I’m struck by the crippled man being healed and the idea that, even though he experienced a miraculous healing and his life was obviously immensely improved, much would now be required of him. Being healed took away the impediments holding him back, but I wonder if this new development also took away a certain level of comfort. I can’t presume to know what the crippled man was thinking or feeling as his life began to unfold in such a new and dramatic way, but when I put myself in the situation I’m left with a lot of fear, if I’m honest.
This healing meant that he would no longer have to beg for alms at the temple. But now he’d have to find work, reintegrate himself into society, essentially come to terms with an entirely new identity. Let me be clear: these things are not bad. Working, contributing to a community, embracing an identity based on Christ, these are all deeply good and holy things. Yet I can’t help but imagine how difficult it would be to navigate these life changes after the miracle. When I put myself in the place of the crippled beggar, of course I am delighted to be healed, yet so wary of everything that is sure to come after.
As I dig deeper into the feelings that this story draws up in me, I’m forced to ask myself, where am I crippled? Where am I in need of healing? Where do I cling to my pain or my crutches, or the mat that I’ve laid on so long that it conforms to my body?
Am I hesitant to claim healing because of what it will require of me, of what I will be asked to give up? Am I letting my fear of the unknown drag me every day to the Beautiful Gate of the internet, the pantry, the world to beg for acceptance that won’t sustain me?
Much will be required of the person entrusted with much, and still more will be demanded of the person entrusted with more.
Luke 12:48 NAB
Have I become so comfortable in my infirmities, so dependent up on what I know now, that I’m unwilling to trade in my paralysis for the opportunity to run and jump and praise? I wonder.
I think part of my fear is rooted in the idea that maybe I won’t be strong enough to rise to the challenges of adapting to life after healing. That I’m not strong enough to fully give up the things I cling to: the likes, the sugar, the idea that I’m in control and if I do the right things, I’ll be whole.
It’s hard to let go. It’s hard to step out in faith even when I know that the One beckoning me forward is only concerned with my ultimate good. And the truth is, I will never be “enough.” I will never be equipped to do battle with my addictions, dependencies, worldly alliances, or to reconcile my humanity with my call to holiness, at least not on my own. And that’s the point, right?
The crippled man doesn’t get a happily ever after tied up with a bow. He is arrested, along with Peter and John, and put to trial before the Sanhedrin where Peter boldly proclaims the truth of Christ. However, it is on his account that they are all released, as the community knew him and his story well: “…they released them, finding no way to punish them, on account of the people who were all praising God for what had happened. For the man on whom this sign of healing had been done was over forty years old.” (Acts 4:21 NAB)
Being healed, knowing Christ, being transformed in Him is not a one time event. The crippled man wasn’t healed and then allowed to walk off into the sunset. Much was given him and much was required. The path to holiness is one that we have to keep choosing over and over and over again, knowing full well that more will be asked of us than we think we can give. We aren’t called to a happily ever after, but rather to work out our salvation with fear and trembling even and especially in moments of doubt and fear, trusting that He who tells us to get up and walk will be guiding us on every step of the way.
If you’re like me and can identify with this struggle and the difficulty to trade the battle for control for an alliance with the Holy Spirit, I guess I just want you to know that this is all normal. You’re not alone and, while I certainly don’t have all the answers, I do have faith despite my doubt. I realize my struggle is not due to any failing on the part of God, but due to my fallen nature and my humanity. And that’s okay. God blesses the struggle. There is holiness in admitting that we don’t have it all together and still struggling on toward Him. We don’t always have to get it right and I truly believe that any forward movement toward holiness is honored by Christ, whether that’s a full on run, a stumble, or a crawl. Jesus meets us where we are, as we are, no matter what.
If you’ve never prayed the following prayer, I highly suggest it. I usually follow it up with, “Lord, help my unbelief.”
LITANY OF TRUST
From the belief that I have to earn Your love
Deliver me, Jesus.
From the fear that I am unlovable Deliver me, Jesus.
From the false security
that I have what it takes
Deliver me, Jesus.
From the fear that trusting You
will leave me more destitute
Deliver me, Jesus.
From all suspicion of
Your words and promises
Deliver me, Jesus.
From the rebellion against
childlike dependency on You
Deliver me, Jesus.
From refusals and reluctances
in accepting Your will
Deliver me, Jesus.
From anxiety about the future
Deliver me, Jesus.
From resentment or excessive preoccupation with the past
Deliver me, Jesus.
From restless self-seeking
in the present moment
Deliver me, Jesus.
From disbelief in Your love and presence Deliver me, Jesus.
From the fear of being asked
to give more than I have
Deliver me, Jesus.
From the belief that my life
has no meaning or worth
Deliver me, Jesus.
From the fear of what love demands Deliver me, Jesus.
From discouragement
Deliver me, Jesus.That You are continually holding me, sustaining me, loving me
Jesus, I trust in You.
That Your love goes deeper than my sins and failings and transforms me Jesus, I trust in You.That not knowing what tomorrow brings is an invitation to lean on You Jesus, I trust in You.
That You are with me in my suffering Jesus, I trust in You.That my suffering, united to Your own, will bear fruit in this life and the next Jesus, I trust in You.
That You will not leave me orphan, that You are present in Your Church Jesus, I trust in You.That Your plan is better than anything else
Jesus, I trust in You.
That You always hear me and in Your goodness always respond to me Jesus, I trust in You.That You give me the grace to accept forgiveness and to forgive others Jesus, I trust in You.
That You give me all the strength I need for what is asked Jesus, I trust in You.That my life is a gift Jesus, I trust in You.
That You will teach me to trust You
SISTERS OF LIFE
Annunciation Motherhouse 38 Montebello Road Suffern, NY 10901 845.357.3547
sistersoflife.org
Written by Sr. Faustina Maria Pia, SV
ohblessyourheart 