Tag Archives: The Passion

Losing Or Giving?

At the beginning of Lent I read a few suggestions of things to do when it came to prayer. I’ve actually had a really prayerful Lent so far. I’d say it’s going well. I haven’t been perfect about my fasting, but I chose a pretty difficult fast. Anyway, one suggestion that seemed like a good idea was to read through the Gospel of Mark start to finish. The suggestion was to read it all in one go, but I’m taking it really slowly, and reading a chapter per day, or even less than that if I feel God wants me to stay with something for a while.

The other night I couldn’t sleep. I woke up at 3:00, and immediately knew I was done for the night, so I said, “Lord, I’ll stay up with you if you want.” I got this feeling that He wanted me to read through His Passion. I Went online and read it, slowly, and stopped where I felt like He wanted me to. I’ll admit I cried. I just finished reading “Consoling the Heart of Jesus” by Father Michael Gaitley, which I highly recommend. In it, he talks about how Christ really does suffer with us. In a revelation to Saint Faustina, Jesus said that, if her duties permitted, she should make the Stations of the Cross at 3:00. The 3:00 hour, He says, is the Hour of Mercy. Because He died at this time, He said to Saint Faustina that He will be exceptionally merciful.

Yesterday and today I made this prayer. Between that and finishing the book, I can honestly say that I’ve fallen deeper in love with Jesus. Yesterday, two other significant things happened. I read Mark 8: 35, which is where Jesus says, “…whoever wants to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.” For eons this has confused the heck out of me. For some reason, though, I stopped there, and kept it with me for the rest of the day. Later, I finished re-writing a song. I struggled with this re-write. It took me three hours or so. Incidentally, though, this idea of losing my life for His sake ended up in the new version, and I realized that I wasn’t losing anything.

Jesus lost His life for our sake, but what He really did was give His life to us. I’ve chosen to follow Him. The idea of losing my life is scary, but the idea of giving my life to Him because I love Him isn’t. The idea of losing something leaves this nasty feeling of uncertainty. When you lose something or someone, there’s a kind of emptiness that needs to be filled. Sometimes this is easy. If you accidentally left a water bottle somewhere, in other words, if you’ve lost it, you can easily get another one. It’s a little trickier when you’ve lost your phone, for example because that might have had important personal information on it. It would be especially difficult for me because I use my phone to write my song lyrics, and I haven’t transferred them all to my computer. It’s especially hard when you lose a loved one because that person is literally irreplaceable.

On the other hand, giving something away doesn’t leave that empty feeling that losing does. If you give something as a gift, especially, you know where it is, you know who has it, and you know that it’s treasured (ideally). Jesus revealed to several saints that what really bothers Him most is that the gift of His life is not appreciated by so many people. What consoles Him is when we do accept and treasure His sacrifice and His life. Losing my life sounds terrifying, for obvious reasons, but giving it to Jesus, who I know treasures it, isn’t scary at all. I know who I belong to, and I know my gift is treasured.

That probably isn’t too terribly insightful, but that’s what I got for tonight. 🙂

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Quick Answers To Strange Prayers

“What have I got myself into?” I sit here this afternoon with a message in my inbox from a teenage boy from exactly where, I don’t know, knowing that, in fact, this kid is an answer to a prayer. Nonetheless, I feel as though I’ve probably bit off more than I can chew. Two days ago, I was praying my Rosary, as I do every day, and the focus was on the Sorrowful mysteries. Whenever I focus on Christ’s Passion, the thing that bothers me most is that he had to endure it alone. He was as alone as anyone could possibly be, and that kills me. When I finished my Rosary, I said an extra prayer, which was, “Lord, I wish there was a way I could take some of that loneliness away from you.” Then it hit me. “Whatever you do for the least of these, you do for me.”

I can’t directly take away the loneliness of His Passion, but I can help someone else who is lonely. I had insomnia a couple of nights ago, so for something to do while I was trying to fall asleep, I joined a website that helps people find pen pals. I created my account, and on my profile, I said that I was hoping to make a new friend, and to be a help to someone who was lonely. I prayed that a lonely person would find me, but yesterday I decided I couldn’t just sit around and wait. Jesus went looking for those who needed His help, so I decided I needed to, as well.

I found the aforementioned kid’s profile, and he said he suffered from severe depression, and was looking for a friend. He’s fifteen, and he was looking for someone more around his age, but I sent him a message anyway, saying that I might be able to help him, or just be a friend. I told him that when I was younger I dealt with pretty bad loneliness, and I knew that it sucked. I didn’t expect him to reply, but surprisingly, he did. He was surprised that I’m twenty five, and he agreed to be email buddies. This was all in a conversation we had using the website’s mailbox, so I gave him my email address, and now I’m waiting. In the meantime, I’m also praying for him.

I worry that I won’t have the right words to talk to this kid, but I suppose I don’t have to. I most likely can’t physically be there to give him a hug when he needs it, but maybe all I need to do is listen. I often forget that it’s just as important, if not more important, to listen, than to say the “right” thing. Sometimes people don’t need to hear anything. Sometimes they just need to get their words; their thoughts; their pain out. If I can’t be the angel who comforted Jesus in the Garden, maybe I can be a friend who comforts this kid in his garden.