Her response was something along the lines of, "It's Jesus. Of course He was doing something for both of us." Her certainty and lack of surprise seemed the opposite of my wide-eyed, wide-hearted realization of God's perfect planning.
On a silent retreat, I found myself working through a painful memory I had with my sister. I had tried a couple times during prayer to get to the root of it, but I seemed to get off course. Finally, I was in the memory and I pictured Jesus there, too. The pain of the moment eased and I saw things from a better perspective, one closer to what Jesus must have experienced.
Instead of recalling only my emotions, I began to see the situation as she may have experienced it. "You are the Beloved of the Father," I found myself telling her.
Then she said those same words back to me and a deep healing occurred in that moment. Something wounded in me was restored by God, not through a conversation with my sister.
After the retreat, I decided to write her and tell her about that experience. I didn't go into detail and I didn't explain how I had felt hurt. I simply told her what transpired in prayer. The next time I saw her, she brought up the letter. She said my letter was the Lord's response to her about something she was struggling with. As she told me that the letter was good for her own heart, I was amazed. Our Lord took that inclination I had to write my sister and He used it to speak to her heart in a way I didn't know she needed.
My response was, "Woah." Hers was one of confident certainty that the Lord works in exactly that sort of way.
Sometimes the Lord takes the movements of our hearts and our own healing so He can use them to speak to others in a profound way that we never intended.
Sometimes my own healing allows others to experience the grace of God.
As fallen humans, we are always seeking to repair our fragile, little hearts. But what a different perspective I have when I think of my healing being an avenue that God uses to love others. Beyond the fact that God desires my own personal wholeness, He has a mission for me, one that requires me to seek healing for the sake of others, not just for myself.
In a way, the Church needs you to be healed. Our personal healing is a service to the Church.
Souls need you to pursue holiness and wholeness because, though perhaps unbeknownst to you, God will use that renewal to encounter them.
The Mystical Body of Christ is a mysterious being. God heals us for our own good and then seeks to use that healing to bring about restoration in others. One that may rely in part on your "Yes" to Jesus entering into those wounded parts of your own heart, areas you don't want Him to go, but which will truly revive your soul if you let Him.
Your own healing might be that catalyst for others to be healed or encounter God in a necessary way.
And so He gently asks, "What do you want me to do for you?" (Mark 10:51)
Your response? Unlock that little room within your heart that you've walled away and invite Jesus into that place. His healing, transformative presence will change you and that will change others.
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Showing posts with label healing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label healing. Show all posts
Thursday, November 5, 2015
Monday, November 2, 2015
A Heart Like His
When I was in high school, a Totus Tuus team would come to my parish each summer. One year, on the night we were having Adoration, I thought about how the team would do the same program each week. Each week they would have Adoration and I found myself thinking that it must not be that novel of an experience anymore. If they did it week after week, they must get used to it and not be as excited as I was, since I rarely had the opportunity to go to Adoration.
Fast forward a few years and I was a member on a Totus Tuus team. I realized how wrong my earlier assumption had been. It was because I was closer to Christ that the night for Adoration seemed so much dearer to me than it had before. No, it wasn't a particularly new experience, but I yearned for that hour each week when I could just sit before Our Lord.
This memory came to mind because today in my sophomore class I showed a couple clips from "The Passion of the Christ." As Jesus carries the cross, there is a part where Mary is racing to reach Him as she recalls a similar incident that took place when He was a child. My heart was aching with this dear mother and I found myself near tears. Part of me thinks I shouldn't have this response anymore since I've seen the movie several times. Yet I think it is almost a requirement that as we draw nearer to the Lord, we develop more of His Heart. He has a tender heart. Sin makes us harden our hearts, but Jesus gives us new hearts, hearts of flesh.
We fear being wounded. Rightfully so, because it hurts. Yet if we want to follow Jesus, we must carry our cross and live as He did.
And Jesus was wounded.
His heart could truly love because it was truly open. In my mind, I seem to imagine that Jesus had this loving heart that was also fiercely guarded, like the armor of a knight. That is incorrect. Jesus is the Divine Healer who allows Himself to be wounded for our sake.
The closer we come to the heart of Jesus, the more we will experience in union with Him. Hearts of steel and stone cannot deeply love. Jesus desires us to have hearts of flesh. Hearts that can be wounded, but more importantly, hearts that can love and be loved.
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Fast forward a few years and I was a member on a Totus Tuus team. I realized how wrong my earlier assumption had been. It was because I was closer to Christ that the night for Adoration seemed so much dearer to me than it had before. No, it wasn't a particularly new experience, but I yearned for that hour each week when I could just sit before Our Lord.
This memory came to mind because today in my sophomore class I showed a couple clips from "The Passion of the Christ." As Jesus carries the cross, there is a part where Mary is racing to reach Him as she recalls a similar incident that took place when He was a child. My heart was aching with this dear mother and I found myself near tears. Part of me thinks I shouldn't have this response anymore since I've seen the movie several times. Yet I think it is almost a requirement that as we draw nearer to the Lord, we develop more of His Heart. He has a tender heart. Sin makes us harden our hearts, but Jesus gives us new hearts, hearts of flesh.
"A new heart I will give you, and a new spirit I will put within you; and I will take out of your flesh the heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh." (Ezekiel 36:26)Hearts of flesh feel experiences more intensely. I find myself wanting the heart Jesus has and yet being fearful of what that will entail. My heart is already very sensitive at times, how would it respond to being more aware of the impact of sin in the world? Could I handle a heart like His that would be vulnerable and open to all? Wouldn't I get wounded?
We fear being wounded. Rightfully so, because it hurts. Yet if we want to follow Jesus, we must carry our cross and live as He did.
And Jesus was wounded.
His heart could truly love because it was truly open. In my mind, I seem to imagine that Jesus had this loving heart that was also fiercely guarded, like the armor of a knight. That is incorrect. Jesus is the Divine Healer who allows Himself to be wounded for our sake.
The closer we come to the heart of Jesus, the more we will experience in union with Him. Hearts of steel and stone cannot deeply love. Jesus desires us to have hearts of flesh. Hearts that can be wounded, but more importantly, hearts that can love and be loved.
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| Heart of Jesus, sanctify my heart. |
Monday, April 27, 2015
Rise and Take Up Your Mat
"Do you want to be healed?"
Of all the questions Jesus asks in the Gospels, this is one of the ones that I find most provoking. The setting is Jerusalem and He is speaking to a man who has been paralyzed and lying on his mat for 38 years. My sarcastic nature wants to respond to Jesus with raised eyebrows and a retort of, "Of course he does! He has been lying there for THIRTY-EIGHT YEARS!" The answer seems obvious to me. This provoking question is why this is one of my favorite passages to discuss with my sophomores. (I have many favorite passages...I'm not certain how many, but a lot. Favorite depends on the day.)
Why would Jesus waste the time to ask this poor man if he wanted to be healed? From outside the situation, we assume that healing is what is desired. In this situation, the man desires healing and he finds it in Jesus Christ. However, Scripture is the living Word of God, which means that there is something in this passage for me in 2015. Jesus is presenting the same question to me today: Do you want to be healed?
One of the highlights of teaching is when you can, as an entire class, deeply enter into the passage. Their fidgeting ceases and the room feels still. This is where the encounter happens, I believe. The class is led through a lecture/conversation that is like the following. We are quick to realize the necessity of physical healing---few would have a broken leg and drag themselves around on it, insisting that it will get better or that it is no big deal. Yet we do this with our internal wounds all the time. Jesus pinpoints our wound and asks as the gentle God that He is, "Can I heal this?" He asks if we want it.
As a class we discussed possible reasons why the paralytic might be scared of being healed. Perhaps he wonders if the healing will last, maybe he doesn't want to get his hopes up that it could happen, and perhaps he will walk oddly or trip when he walks. I asked them in what was his identity rooted. After being a paralytic for 38 years, it would make sense if that was how he primarily thought of himself--as someone who couldn't walk, someone who felt abandoned by God. Yet to be healed would mean that his identity must change--he would no longer have the characteristic he used to define himself. That change could be frightening. We began to see how the man is brave to seek healing from Jesus. In seeing the importance of the paralytic accepting Jesus' healing, we saw how we also needed to embrace the healing that Christ offers. Ours may not be a visible, physical healing, but rather an internal one. Yet if the Healer desires to heal, shouldn't we embrace that?
We live in a wounded culture. I hate that we are so wounded, yet I love that sometimes I am able to point to this woundedness and proclaim, "In the beginning, it was not so!" We are longing for wholeness and perfection because we were made to desire that. But first we need to see ourselves where we are---we are the paralyzed man, lying vulnerably before the Giver of all good gifts, being asked if we want to be made whole. May we have the courage to say 'Yes' and to embrace all that will come of being healed, particularly if it means coming to a deeper understanding of our identity as a child of God.
Of all the questions Jesus asks in the Gospels, this is one of the ones that I find most provoking. The setting is Jerusalem and He is speaking to a man who has been paralyzed and lying on his mat for 38 years. My sarcastic nature wants to respond to Jesus with raised eyebrows and a retort of, "Of course he does! He has been lying there for THIRTY-EIGHT YEARS!" The answer seems obvious to me. This provoking question is why this is one of my favorite passages to discuss with my sophomores. (I have many favorite passages...I'm not certain how many, but a lot. Favorite depends on the day.)
Why would Jesus waste the time to ask this poor man if he wanted to be healed? From outside the situation, we assume that healing is what is desired. In this situation, the man desires healing and he finds it in Jesus Christ. However, Scripture is the living Word of God, which means that there is something in this passage for me in 2015. Jesus is presenting the same question to me today: Do you want to be healed?
One of the highlights of teaching is when you can, as an entire class, deeply enter into the passage. Their fidgeting ceases and the room feels still. This is where the encounter happens, I believe. The class is led through a lecture/conversation that is like the following. We are quick to realize the necessity of physical healing---few would have a broken leg and drag themselves around on it, insisting that it will get better or that it is no big deal. Yet we do this with our internal wounds all the time. Jesus pinpoints our wound and asks as the gentle God that He is, "Can I heal this?" He asks if we want it.
As a class we discussed possible reasons why the paralytic might be scared of being healed. Perhaps he wonders if the healing will last, maybe he doesn't want to get his hopes up that it could happen, and perhaps he will walk oddly or trip when he walks. I asked them in what was his identity rooted. After being a paralytic for 38 years, it would make sense if that was how he primarily thought of himself--as someone who couldn't walk, someone who felt abandoned by God. Yet to be healed would mean that his identity must change--he would no longer have the characteristic he used to define himself. That change could be frightening. We began to see how the man is brave to seek healing from Jesus. In seeing the importance of the paralytic accepting Jesus' healing, we saw how we also needed to embrace the healing that Christ offers. Ours may not be a visible, physical healing, but rather an internal one. Yet if the Healer desires to heal, shouldn't we embrace that?
We live in a wounded culture. I hate that we are so wounded, yet I love that sometimes I am able to point to this woundedness and proclaim, "In the beginning, it was not so!" We are longing for wholeness and perfection because we were made to desire that. But first we need to see ourselves where we are---we are the paralyzed man, lying vulnerably before the Giver of all good gifts, being asked if we want to be made whole. May we have the courage to say 'Yes' and to embrace all that will come of being healed, particularly if it means coming to a deeper understanding of our identity as a child of God.
 |
| "Rise, take up your pallet, and walk." Jn. 5:8 |
Tuesday, March 3, 2015
What is your withered hand?
"How are we each like the man with the withered hand?"
It was seventh period and my students were, as usual, talkative and eager to laugh with their fellow students. We are in the midst of learning about the Gospel of Mark and today found us reviewing the story of the man with the withered hand.
One of the goals I have for my Scripture classes is to convince them that this is the Living Word of God and that it should be impacting their lives now. I tell them that Jesus desires to speak to each of us, today, in this very moment, through events that happened and were written about a couple thousand years ago.
"How are we each like the man with the withered hand?"
It was a rhetorical question and I continued on with one of my little preaching sessions. The man had a disfigured hand and yet Jesus asked the man to come before the crowd of people and stretch out his hand. This requires a deep trust that Jesus will be gentle and that He can heal. The part that the man most wanted to hide from other people, Jesus was asking the man to openly show to Him.
The words seemed to flow naturally from my mouth as I asked them to consider what part of them Jesus desires to heal.
"Perhaps you don't have physical disabilities. Jesus wants to provide emotional, spiritual, mental healing. What if Jesus called you in front of the crowd and asked you, "How is your relationship with your mom?" Or if He asked you, "How did you feel when your friend betrayed you?" Jesus wants to come to you in the midst of your brokenness and heal you. Christ desires complete wholeness for us."
As I said these words, I was looking at them and their solemn little faces spoke of hurts that I will never know or understand. Faces that a few minutes before were laughing, now would quickly drop their eyes when mine would rest on their face. I told them that Jesus desires to heal them. That whatever part of them they most want to hide from Jesus, is the place He most wants to come.
It was, I believe, a moment of the Holy Spirit working through me. The room had a stillness to it that revealed an attentiveness that went beyond the typical atmosphere for notes or theological discussions. I could feel the weight of the room and the weight of the Holy Spirit. In the momentary pause before I continued on with notes, I thought briefly, "I love talking about healing." It was never something I had thought before, but I knew it to be true. There is a certain life that fills me when I am able to speak about the transforming effect that Christ desires to have on us.
How does Jesus desire to heal your withered hand today? Let's let Him do it. Amen. Amen.
It was seventh period and my students were, as usual, talkative and eager to laugh with their fellow students. We are in the midst of learning about the Gospel of Mark and today found us reviewing the story of the man with the withered hand.
One of the goals I have for my Scripture classes is to convince them that this is the Living Word of God and that it should be impacting their lives now. I tell them that Jesus desires to speak to each of us, today, in this very moment, through events that happened and were written about a couple thousand years ago.
"How are we each like the man with the withered hand?"
It was a rhetorical question and I continued on with one of my little preaching sessions. The man had a disfigured hand and yet Jesus asked the man to come before the crowd of people and stretch out his hand. This requires a deep trust that Jesus will be gentle and that He can heal. The part that the man most wanted to hide from other people, Jesus was asking the man to openly show to Him.
The words seemed to flow naturally from my mouth as I asked them to consider what part of them Jesus desires to heal.
"Perhaps you don't have physical disabilities. Jesus wants to provide emotional, spiritual, mental healing. What if Jesus called you in front of the crowd and asked you, "How is your relationship with your mom?" Or if He asked you, "How did you feel when your friend betrayed you?" Jesus wants to come to you in the midst of your brokenness and heal you. Christ desires complete wholeness for us."
As I said these words, I was looking at them and their solemn little faces spoke of hurts that I will never know or understand. Faces that a few minutes before were laughing, now would quickly drop their eyes when mine would rest on their face. I told them that Jesus desires to heal them. That whatever part of them they most want to hide from Jesus, is the place He most wants to come.
It was, I believe, a moment of the Holy Spirit working through me. The room had a stillness to it that revealed an attentiveness that went beyond the typical atmosphere for notes or theological discussions. I could feel the weight of the room and the weight of the Holy Spirit. In the momentary pause before I continued on with notes, I thought briefly, "I love talking about healing." It was never something I had thought before, but I knew it to be true. There is a certain life that fills me when I am able to speak about the transforming effect that Christ desires to have on us.
How does Jesus desire to heal your withered hand today? Let's let Him do it. Amen. Amen.
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