One day several years ago, before I was diagnosed with chronic Lyme disease, I went for a walk simply because I did not know what else to do. As I practically stumbled down the road, feet barely clearing the pavement, absolutely exhausted and with my brain in such a fog that I could barely think, I complained to God about how I felt.
I was so tired of this unexplained exhaustion, of just trying to make it through my day, of having so little to give to my kids or husband. It had been too much for too long, and I just wanted to feel better. I just wanted God to cure me. At that moment, the cross felt especially heavy and the road particularly long.
“Oh, Lord, take this cross from me! Heal me!” I begged Him. “I don’t know how much longer I can handle this.”
Suddenly a thought broke through my pleas: “Enter into the suffering.”
Enter in? It seemed so counterintuitive, but I instinctively realized the need for it. I saw that I was doing what we all tend to do when suffering. I was trying to avoid it and complaining when I couldn’t. I was trying to get around it, trying to find a way to fix it so I wouldn’t have to face it anymore.
“Enter into it and move through it,” I felt God saying. And so I did. I directed my attention and my will to doing that. I allowed myself to feel the fatigue and to experience the exhaustion, under His care and direction.
As soon as I did, I felt a great peace. I felt our Lord’s presence. The Suffering Servant was right there with me in my suffering and in His. I felt united to Him in my exhaustion – a companionship, a communion, a depth, a love. It was as if my heart was being held within Another’s, cradled lovingly and poured into, wounds held and soothed. And in that moment, I also felt Him distinctly. I sensed His wounds, His suffering, His weariness given for me, shared with me.
We were not originally made for suffering. Our human nature is repulsed by it. Our hearts long for wholeness and peace, but, in this world, suffering is part of our lot.
It is so very natural to desire contentment and ease, health and security. And we so easily justify this desire in believing that we would be able to pray more readily and with greater focus or would be able to give more to our family or to others if only we had it.
Often when we are suffering, we feel so far from Christ. But I have realized since that day that the emptiness is not so much because of the suffering as it is a result of our reaction to it.
By entering into the suffering rather than complaining about it and trying to avoid experiencing it, we enter into the wounds of Jesus and unite our own wounds to His. In contrast, when we avoid suffering, we also avoid Christ, for joining us in our humanity and in our suffering is the way in which He came, and continues to come, to us.
Though we may feel it is much more difficult to pray while suffering, it can be argued that entering into it with Him and accepting it for His sake draws us closer to His Heart than nearly any other prayer. While we may not feel like we can give enough to our family or friends while we are struggling, our offering our suffering for them draws down more graces upon them such that Jesus helps them in ways in which we would never be able.
In the Anima Christi prayer, there is an image I particularly like: “Within Your wounds, hide me.” I picture myself as a hurting child curled up within the wound in Jesus’ wrist or hand. His holy blood surrounds me and mixes with mine. His sacred flesh holds and cushions me as I also ease His pain in the same way that a balm brings comfort to injury.
A year ago, another image was brought to my attention. In an Avila Institute class, Fr. Matthew MacDonald told us students that the way to Jesus’ Heart is through the wound in His side.
The way to Jesus’ Heart is through the wound in His side.
What a profound illustration of a truly sublime reality! The union of our hearts with Jesus’ Sacred Heart, our abiding in Him and Him in us, is reached by uniting our suffering with His! By walking the path of the cross, through His pierced side, through the purifying and cleansing blood and water poured out by Love and Mercy Himself. It is on such a path that we are made ready for a closer union with His pure Heart.
This unavoidable, awful reality of Jesus’ suffering and ours is infused with unimaginable depth and meaning through the wounds and cross of Christ. His Heart was pierced by a lance and opened for all who suffer in any way.
Entering into the suffering, through Jesus’ wounds and ours, is not easy. It still feels preferable to avoid suffering rather than embrace it. Having this knowledge and experience does not easily change our distaste for the actual suffering. Embracing the suffering and entering into it takes a courageous decision, a great trust and a faith that suffering indeed, in Christ, has a redemptive and unitive purpose.
Making this decision to enter into the suffering with Him transforms us. By doing so, we participate not only in His passion and death but also in His resurrection. He lifts us up in Himself, even as we continue to feel pain, and changes us to resemble Himself more closely.
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Image: Unsplash+
