Mortification, Penance, Suffering Seen through the Holy Spirit

By Barbara A. Schoeneberger

Flower Sellers of London by Dore
(Wikimedia Commons)

Comprehending the value of the Cross, of suffering, of willful mortification and penance is impossible with the human eye alone. We need the light of the Holy Spirit to live through that which is visited upon us just as Jesus was seized and killed by worldly powers. In the eyes of the world he was just a man, one certainly with extraordinary power to heal both hearts and bodies, but in the end, just someone who could be killed to be gotten out of the way.

To the world, suffering makes no sense. It is a mystery. Mortification and penance make no sense. The world cannot conceive the hidden meaning and value of suffering and so it vainly seeks to end it by purely earthly means – this program and that, but oddly enough only creating more suffering.

When by the grace of the Holy Spirit and with a generous heart charity seizes us, we can not only accept that which is beyond our control, but also choose to take advantage of all the many instances we find daily to deny ourselves and follow in the footsteps of the Lord.
In Meditation #97 of Divine Intimacy Father Gabriel of St. Mary Magdalene writes:

The spirit of mortification has more than a purely physical aspect of mortification; it also includes renunciation of the ego, the will, and the understanding.

Continue reading at Barb's blog Suffering with Joy.

Mortification, Penance, Suffering Seen through the Holy Spirit

By Barbara A. Schoeneberger

 

Comprehending the value of the Cross, of suffering, of willful mortification and penance is impossible with the human eye alone. We need the light of the Holy Spirit to live through that which is visited upon us just as Jesus was seized and killed by worldly powers. In the eyes of the world he was just a man, one certainly with extraordinary power to heal both hearts and bodies, but in the end, just someone who could be killed to be gotten out of the way.

To the world, suffering makes no sense. It is a mystery. Mortification and penance make no sense. The world cannot conceive the hidden meaning and value of suffering and so it vainly seeks to end it by purely earthly means – this program and that, but oddly enough only creating more suffering. When by the grace of the Holy Spirit and with a generous heart charity seizes us, we can not only accept that which is beyond our control, but also choose to take advantage of all the many instances we find daily to deny ourselves and follow in the footsteps of the Lord.

In Meditation #97 of Divine Intimacy Father Gabriel of St. Mary Magdalene writes:>

The spirit of mortification has more than a purely physical aspect of mortification; it also includes renunciation of the ego, the will, and the understanding.

Continue reading at Barb's blog Suffering With Joy.

Misery is a choice

By Barbara A. Schoeneberger

Altarpiece of the Seven Joys of Mary (Wikimedia Commons)

Do you know people who are truly miserable? I am not speaking here of that great percentage of the world who live in poverty and disease, in war-torn countries, victims of natural disasters that destroy lives completely, or where people face a choice of convert to this or that religion or die. I am also not speaking of sexually and physically abused children nor of those who have been trafficked for financial gain of others, nor of the many other evils in the world. That temporal misery is forced upon persons by outside powers for evil and selfish purposes. 

I am speaking of misery of heart and soul – an invisible misery that manifests itself outwardly most particularly by sins of the tongue, angry outbursts, rash judgment, destruction of property and/or relationships. The kind of internal churning misery that repels others and perpetuates itself both in oneself and in others in our lives with whom we interact.

We all know the constant complainer, the super-critic who is pleased about nothing, the selfish controller of others who continually resorts to manipulation to get what he or she wants. We all know our share of Chicken Littles for whom the sky is falling almost every day. Their lives are full of constant drama, singularly joyless. And who has not known active alcoholics and others addicts of all types? They live in a continual torment and spinning of fears, often using addiction as a way not to face the demons inside themselves. Maybe, just maybe, we can apply these descriptions to ourselves at one time or another in our lives.


Continue reading at Barb's blog Suffering with Joy.

Icon of the Savior Not Made by Hands

By Barbara A. Schoeneberger

A few weeks ago I began a search for an icon of the face of Christ that would speak compellingly to people in great distress since I am meeting so many of them in my life right now. I thought that if they had an image of Jesus that they could look at, perhaps their hearts would calm and they could begin to find peace. I also wanted a prayer to put on the back. After a few days devoted to this task and rejecting image after image, I found the following icon at a Russian site. It is late 19^th century, held in a private collection and the writer unknown. The icon type is “Icon of the Savior Not Made by Hands”, a most intriguing title.

Legend

This is one of the oldest image types of the Eastern Church and has been written many times over the centuries. Via Wikipedia and research from other sources:

According to the legend, the fame of Jesus’s miracles had spread throughout the region and into Syria as related by Matthew 4:24.  King Abgar of Edessa, though not having seen Jesus but believing in him, desired to be cured of leprosy, according to some accounts. He could not travel into Roman territory because of a treaty with Caesar, so he sent his court painter, Ananias, to find Jesus, give him the letter, and paint His portrait. Ananias was unable to get near enough to Jesus to render an image because of the crowds, but Jesus called Him over and gave him a letter for Abgar declining his invitation but praising his faith and promising to send one of His disciples to him. Along with the letter went a likeness of Jesus said to have been formed by Our Lord wiping his face with a towel. Upon beholding it, Abgar was healed.

This legend was first recorded in the early fourth century by Eusebius of Caesarea, who said that he had transcribed and translated the actual letter in the Syriac chancery documents of the king of Edessa. The apostle “Thaddaeus“, known as “Addai” in Syriac, went to Edessa after Pentecost, was welcomed by Abgar, preached the Gospel and healed many.


Continue reading at Barbara's blog Suffering With Joy.

Jesus cleanses the leper

By Barbara A. Schoeneberger

 

My Ignatius Study Bible and the “Gospels in a Year” adventure at Flocknote  are exciting tools to help me know the Lord all the better. If you aren’t signed up yet, try it out. I’m loving it.

Jesus Cleanses the Leper

Some weeks back our study for the day was Matthew 8:1-13. I wanted to write about it then but didn’t get to it. Then the same passages came up for the Gospel of the Third Sunday after Epiphany a couple of weeks ago and again, the story kept tugging at me. The image of the leper is so touching I can’t get it out of my mind, as he is the symbol of the sin-sick soul we hear about in the beautiful American Spiritual, “There is a Balm in Gilead”. This is a beautiful tale of faith.

Matthew 8:1: When he came down from the mountain, great crowds followed Him.

Jesus always withdrew to the high place, a mountain, to pray to His Father.  Mountains symbolize the dwelling place of God. This is where Moses and the prophets often conversed with God, and where God gave commands and instructions to them. After dealing with the crowds, Jesus went to the heights for peace and quiet and to “recharge his batteries” if you will. Our mountains are the quiet places we go when we want to pray – the Adoration chapel or church, the home altar, a chair in the back yard, on the porch, or on the balcony, a peaceful place in the woods, anywhere we can be alone with God. Before we undertake any great work, a conversation with the Father will give us strength just as it did Christ.


Continue reading at Barbara's blog Suffering With Joy.

The cockle in our lives

By Barbara A. Schoeneberger

Kiss of Judas, Fecamp Psalter

Wikimedia Commons

The Gospel for the Fifth Sunday After Epiphany in the Extraordinary Form is the parable of the man who sowed good seed in his field, but his enemy came in at night and sowed cockle seed over it. Now what kind of person would do such a thing? The farmer’s crop not only provided his living, others needed it for survival too, and future crops depended on the seed. The malicious act of a hateful heart would hurt many.

This is exactly what Satan is about. Create as much pain and suffering as possible in ways that have far reaching effects. Discourage all kindness. Choke the light of Christ out from the midst of God’s children. Seize their water and make them shrivel and die, all the while masquerading as one of the authentic stalks of grain until the very last minute when the reality of being a fake naturally emerges.

Cockle and wheat look alike when growing until the heads mature. At harvest the cockle is uprooted, bound and burned. The wheat is harvested and stored in the barn, protected from the elements, safe. We can see the obvious spiritual reference to the Last Judgment here, but let’s back up a bit and consider the time of the two growing along side each other. If we identify ourselves with the wheat, what is God showing us here of how we are to live in this very imperfect world? Why not just rip up the cockle wherever it appears so that it can’t hurt any of the wheat?


Continue reading at Barb's blog  Suffering With Joy.

Jesus cleanses the leper

By Barbara A. Schoeneberger

 


My Ignatius Study Bible and the “Gospels in a Year” adventure at Flocknote  are exciting tools to help me know the Lord all the better. If you aren’t signed up yet, try it out. I’m loving it.

Jesus Cleanses the Leper

Some weeks back our study for the day was Matt. 8:1-13. I wanted to write about it then but didn’t get to it. Then the same passages came up for the Gospel of the Third Sunday after Epiphany a couple of weeks ago and again, the story kept tugging at me. The image of the leper is so touching I can’t get it out of my mind, as he is the symbol of the sin-sick soul we hear about in the beautiful American Spiritual, “There is a Balm in Gilead”. This is a beautiful tale of faith.

Matt. 8:1: When he came down from the mountain, great crowds followed Him;

Jesus always withdrew to the high place, a mountain, to pray to His Father.  Mountains symbolize the dwelling place of God. This is where Moses and the prophets often conversed with God, and where God gave commands and instructions to them. After dealing with the crowds, Jesus went to the heights for peace and quiet and to “recharge his batteries” if you will.

Our mountains are the quiet places we go when we want to pray – the Adoration chapel or church, the home altar, a chair in the back yard, on the porch, or on the balcony, a peaceful place in the woods, anywhere we can be alone with God. Before we undertake any great work, a conversation with the Father will give us strength just as it did Christ.

Continue reading at Barb's blog Suffering With Joy.

The Benedictine Oblate and Christian Perfection

By Barbara A. Schoeneberger

Clear Creek Abby Solemn Profession of Vows, 9/7/13

Poverty, chastity, and obedience are called the three evangelical counsels, the counsels Jesus recommends in the Gospel for those who desire to do more than the minimum to get to heaven, and to aim at Christian perfection (Mt. 19:16-22). By Christian perfection we mean that extremely elusive condition of perfect charity, love of God and love of neighbor, that we will enjoy for all eternity and which we seek, by the grace of God, to reach in this life, sinners that we are. In fact, if we don’t work at it consistently and generously in this life, God will have a lot of polishing to do on us before He admits us to heaven when we die.

The vast majority of religious communities of priests, brothers, and nuns take these three as vows when they make their commitment to belong to their community forever. Through practicing these vows they witness to the world a higher reality. They declare through all of what the counsels imply that there is indeed something more enduring than this world. As laity, we can practice these counsels according to our state in life, too. The more we desire to reach Christian perfection out of love of Jesus, the more we can look to these three counsels to guide us in our daily choices.

Continue reading at Barb's blog Suffering with Joy.

Was Mary really an unwed mother?

By Barbara A. Schoeneberger

Espousal of Mary by Rafael

This past Sunday, we attended Mass at a nearby parish rather than driving a half hour to the Extraordinary Form Mass we normally attend because we were exhausted from the nine hour trip home on Saturday. The liturgical calendar called for the feast of the Holy Family and I was looking forward to hearing another great sermon by the pastor, but such was not to be.

Early on in his discussion of the Gospel he said, “Jesus was conceived outside of wedlock.” Then he proceeded to say that people looked down on Jesus and ridiculed Him because of this. The pastor could not have shocked me more if he had cast a bolt of lightening on my head. “Ay-yi-yi! Ach du lieber! Mama Mia! Merdre! Eheu! Aigoo! Good Grief!” If I knew the words for dismay in any more languages I’d write them here. Where do people get these cockamamie ideas? Especially a priest who was supposedly well-trained in Sacred Scripture in the seminary?

This is the second time in the past several months I’ve come across the “Mary was an unwed mother theme.” The first was when reading a supposedly Catholic book on families. What to do? When we got home I decided to research the subject so that I could write an informative and correct post and found an excellent article by Father Michael Griffin, O.C.D., in the EWTN library. St. Joseph: A Theological Introduction contained exactly what I was looking for, and could not have been a better source of meditation to celebrate the feast of the Holy Family. If any of you have come across this particular error, I hope this post will help clear the confusion.


Finish reading at Barb's blog Suffering With Joy.

St. Benedict on humility and disinterstedness

By Barbara A. Schoeneberger

Altenburg Abbye (photo by Tyssel,
Wikimedia Commons)

The year 1875 marked the 1500 anniversary of the birth of St. Benedict, whose Rule I am bound to follow by my choice of becoming an Oblate. Now, another 125 + years later, not a day goes by that I do not marvel at the wisdom of this “Father of Western Monasticism” and how it applies to my life today. Moreover, by the grace of God I can see how He has arranged my life to make it possible to follow this Rule without complications. Not that the road is easy – just that the path is not hidden. The barbed-wire fences and hedgerows along the way keep me from wandering beyond the point where I would lose direction. That is, in fact, one purpose of having a rule in the first place.
In Chapter 57 St. Benedict writes:

If there are craftsmen in the monastery, let them practice their crafts with all humility, provided the Abbot has given permission. But if any one of them becomes conceited over his skill in his craft, because he seems to be conferring a benefit on the monastery, let him be taken from his craft and no longer exercise it unless, after he has humbled himself, the Abbot again gives him permission.

Abbots, like parents, have special graces granted by God to fulfill their duties of guiding and protecting the spiritual and temporal life of the family. In the case of the monastery, the community is supposed to be self-sufficient under the direction of the abbot. The talents of the various members are to be applied, according to the discretion of the abbot, in the service of the daily upkeep of the household.


Continue reading at Barb's blog Suffering With Joy.

The value of the contemplative life

Barbara A. Schoeneberger

Christ in the House of Martha and Mary
by Tintoretto (Wikimedia Commons)

“Now it came to pass as they were on their journey, that He entered a certain village; and a woman named Martha welcomed Him to her house.  And she had a sister called Mary, who also seated herself at the Lord’s feet, and listened to His word.  But Martha was busy about much serving.  And she came up and said, ‘Lord, is it no concern of Thine that my sister has left me to serve alone?  Tell her therefore to help me.’

"But the Lord answered and said to her, ‘Martha, Martha, thou art anxious and troubled about many things: and yet only one thing is needful.  Mary has chosen the best part, and it will not be taken away from her.’”  Lk. 10: 38-42

About eight or ten years ago, some devout Catholics got riled up over criticism of a small monastery of cloistered Carmelites by fellow Catholics engaged in what we call “social justice” issues.  It seems some Catholics attached to the local Franciscans were saying that since the Carmelites were diminishing in number and had more space than they needed, their monastery should be taken away from them and used to house the poor because “those nuns weren’t doing anything anyway.”

I knew that the Carmelites owned their property, that there was no danger of the bishop taking the monastery away from them and using it for other purposes, but I visited with one of the nuns anyway and carried back the information to the others to calm their anxieties.

The monastery is a juridical person, that is, the group of nuns were protected as an entity by canon law.  They were also a foundation of pontifical right, which means only the Pope could close them down, and he would have to have a very good reason to do so.  So the worries were unfounded and things calmed down.

The devaluing of contemplative life disturbed me a great deal then and still does today.  Martha and Mary stood out in my mind strongly.  Moreover, I now look back at what happened within the context of those who are too ill or disabled to “do” things and their devaluation by others using the utilitarian yardstick.

Continue reading at Barb's blog, Suffering With Joy.

Insights on Divine Providence

By Barbara A. Schoeneberger

Portrait of a Young Man at Prayerby Memling
(photo credit: Wikimedia Commons).

This morning I was reading Father Romano Guardini’s The Art of Praying and found these passages that seem connected in a way with Archbishop Chaput’s address to the Baptist University of Houston on March 1, 2010 where he spoke on the vocation of the Christian in American public life:

The future of Christian life depends, among other things, on whether prayer can establish an active link with life as it is and with the stream of history.  Here, again, the idea of Providence is the starting point…

The will, the Divine Providence, of God is our salvation as St. Paul says (1 Thess. 4: 3), and we laity must work it out in the world, no matter how much some of us would like to flee to the cloister.The evil perpetrated by man against man and against creation cannot be lessened without each of us doing the job he has been given by God.  Yet sometimes life seems to be too much to bear and we want to give up and run away.  If we arrive at that point, it must be because we are depending too much on ourselves and not enough on God.  We are seeking our own will and not His Providential Will.  We are not praying the Our Father with an understanding of “Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.” 

Continue reading at Barb's blog  Suffering With Joy.

Jesus, the ultimate empath

By Barbara A. Schoeneberger

The Sacred Heart (Wikimedia Commons).

To be an empath is to be able to feel what others feel. Literally. A lot has been written about this phenomenon in recent years, often by New Agers who think it is some kind of psychic phenomenon. I couldn’t find any reputable scientific studies on it, but rather lots of anecdotal evidence for its existence.

Mothers often say that they are connected to their children and know if something is wrong, even over long distances, and vice versa. Some people can’t serve in the medical profession because they feel the pains of the ill in their own bodies unless they turn away and block it. Watching surgeries on TV is not an option.

Watching people receive injections is out of the question.  The worst part is feeling the emotions an abused person, child or adult, feels. The fear, anger, confusion, despair, and desperateness, the turmoil and anguish of someone who is or has been victimized are much more than words on a page or audio waves in the air to an empath as I’ve seen the term applied.

Some people might think empaths are crazy, but being crazy and being highly empathetic are not synonymous. If that were the case, we would have to consider that Jesus was not alright in the head, and that is not a possibility except in the eyes of a cold, hard, selfish world. Being an empath, or having a high degree of empathy for the suffering of others, is actually an aid to fraternal charity and to fulfilling the second Great Commandment. It is a great natural gift given to some for the supernatural good of others.


Continue reading at Barb's blog Suffering With Joy.

Are you a good cellarer?

By Barabara A. Schoeneberger,

Monk Feeding the Poor by Gaillet

A central figure in the life of a Benedictine monastery is the cellarer. Hmmm. What does that have to do with me? I’m not a monk or nun and what the heck is a cellarer anyway? In Chapter 31 of his holy rule, St. Benedict clearly defines what kind of man the cellarer should be, and light bulbs went on when I read this section of  a document that guided the lives of many beginning over 1600 years ago. I should care and it does have a lot to do with me and everyone else today who calls himself Christian. How?

The cellarer, called the “steward”, is the monk charged by the Abbot with the whole administration of all temporal things at the monastery. He is the one everybody must go to for food, clothing, tools, supplies, etc. Obviously, this is a person of power because he has authority over the distribution of earthly goods necessary to daily living, not unlike the head of a family today, the pastor of a parish, the boss at work, etc. In a way, most of us are cellarers because most of us have some charge of earthly goods in relation to others.

We have now leapt from the 400s into the 21^st century.

Attributes of the cellarer

As cellarer of the monastery let there be chosen from the community one who is wise, of mature character, sober, not a great eater, not haughty, not excitable, not offensive, not slow, not wasteful, but a God-fearing man who may be like a father to the whole community.

 Continue reading at Barb's blog  Suffering With Joy

Going through God's meat grinder

By Barbara A. Schoeneberger

The Liberation of St. Peter by Terbrugghen (photo: Wikimedia Commons)

Our journey towards sainthood can be compared to being put through a meat grinder. I’m old enough to know what meat grinders look like in action, having personally observed the cook use one in the convent where I once lived. A slab of a former cow is reduced to a pile of hamburger on its way to filling the stomachs of the hungry and so it is with us in our transformation along the way to heaven. God, our heavenly chef makes mincemeat out of us to shape us into something useful and delicious to feed those hungry for salvation.

Being ground up to bits is not fun. We can’t endure it without the grace of faith. St. Therese of Lisieux knew this well, writing in Story of a Soul, “I have made more acts of faith during the past year than in all the rest of my life.” In this case she was speaking of the dark night of the soul, but her words could just as easily apply to all the circumstances we face when God allows us to endure situations which afflict, humble, and mortify us.

Divine Intimacy Father Gabriel of St. Mary Magdalene writes:

It will sometimes be easier to accept heavy trials which come directly from Our Lord, such as illness and bereavement, than other lighter ones where creatures enter into play, and for which, perhaps, we experience greater repugnance. The immediate action of creatures, especially if their malice has a share in it, makes it more difficult for us to discover the divine hand. A greater spirit of faith is necessary here, that we may pass beyond the human side of circumstances, the faulty way of acting of such and such a person, and find, beyond all these human contingencies, the dispositions of divine Providence, which wills to use these particular creatures, and even their defects and errors, to file away our self-love and destroy our pride.

Continue reading at Barb's blog  Suffering With Joy.

Forgiving and forgetting--are both possible?

By Barabra A. Schoeneberger

The Resurrection by Master of the Trebon Altarpiece
(photo credit: Wikimedia Commons).

Have you ever been deeply hurt by someone? By people you trusted? Have you been a victim of a violent crime? Has someone close to you whom you love very much been hurt?

Have you been told by the perpetrator or others to “forgive and forget”? Did you feel angry at this admonishment? Do you now feel guilty because you want to forgive, have tried to forgive, but just can’t forget? Do you think something is wrong with you because you just can’t forget no matter how hard you try?

Have you anguished over not being able to forget?

I can answer yes to every one of these questions and I am not alone. The problem lies in conflating forgiveness and forgetting. For years I’ve struggled with guilt, thinking something must be wrong with me because memory of a situation would pop into my head unbidden and I thought that meant I had not truly forgiven the person.


Continue reading at Barb's blog Suffering With Joy.

To follow God wherever His will leads us

By Barbara A. Schoeneberger

Portrait of John Henry Newman
by John Everett Millais, 1881 via Wikipedia

Lead, Kindly Light, amidst th’encircling gloom,
Lead Thou me on!
The night is dark, and I am far from home,
Lead Thou me on!
Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to see
The distant scene; one step enough for me.

 I was not ever thus, nor prayed that Thou
Shouldst lead me on;
I loved to choose and see my path; but now
Lead Thou me on!

I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears,
Pride ruled my will. Remember not past years!

So long Thy power hath blest me, sure it still
Will lead me on. O’er moor and fen, o’er crag and torrent, till
The night is gone,
And with the morn those angel faces smile,
Which I have loved long since, and lost awhile!

This profound poem by Blessed John Henry Cardinal Newman (1801-1890) was written in 1833, a plea for docility to God’s will at a time when he was frustrated by not being able to get back to England and to his work after a sojourn in Italy. Its original title was “Pillar of the Cloud” with a fourth verse added by someone else later.


Continue reading Barb's reflection at Suffering with Joy.

Duty and devotion

By Barbara A. Schoeneberger

St. John of Martha Celebrating Mass by Miranda (public domain).

A fellow blogger inspired this post when she wrote about her frustrations with Holy Days of Obligation being celebrated during the week, which necessitates our attending Mass according to Church law. Many people feel that way, some to the extent that they skip Mass, but not so this blogger who went because it was her duty to go whether she liked it or not.

Life is like that. We all have duties, some of which become outright oppressive at times. Who hasn’t been tempted to shirk them at home, at work, or church? The concupiscence of our human nature is constantly at war with our spirit which urges us on to the noble acts required by our status as children of God. Fulfillment of all of our duties according to our state in life and its attendant obligations is a virtuous act of filial piety, something we tend to rebel against now and then. Filial piety flows into devotion, which St. Thomas Aquinas tells us, is “the will to do promptly all that pertains to the service of God.”


Continue reading at Barb's blog Suffering with Joy.

God is your papa

By Barbara A. Schoeneberger

Digital oil painting by Barb from photo
by Michelle M. from freedigitalphotos.com

And he said, Abba, Father, all things are possible unto thee; take away this cup from me: nevertheless not what I will, but what thou wilt. (Mark 14:36)

“Abba”, that beautiful Aramaic word spoken by a baby as his first word for “father”, has an equivalent in every language. In English it is “daddy”. In Korean it is “Appa”. In Italian, “babbino”, “papá”, “papino”. In all languages it expresses childlike innocence, trust, intimacy, and affection. In pre-Christian times “Abba” grew from solely a baby’s expression to mean “dear father”, an expression grown children would use to address their fathers.

When Jesus cried out these words during His agony in the garden, He spoke for all mankind, first as a Jew and secondly as a Gentile, as Mark wrote first the Aramaic word and then the Greek for “father”. Abba is for all of us. St. Paul reminds us of this in Romans 8:15:

For you did not receive a spirit that makes you a slave again to fear, but you received the Spirit of sonship. And by Him we cry, “Abba, Father

By this we know that Jesus means for all of us to have that same relationship with His Father that He does, the child with the strong and loving protector and provider who watches over us with the greatest of care. This is His will for us.


Continue reading at Barab's blog Suffering With Joy.

Bear one another's burdens

By Barbara A. Schoeneberger

French peasant women tilling soil circa 1917-1920, public domain photo image enhanced

Bear ye one another’s burdens, and so you shall fulfill the law of Christ. (Gal. 6:2)

When participating in Sunday Snippets this past week, I came across Michael’s post at “To Love and Truth” titled Listening to God’s Soft Whisper. One great thing about the Catholic blogging world is the opportunity to participate in spiritual observations of others, and this post really made me think. The post began:

 We often thank God for sending a particular person into our life.   God blessed us through that person.  It is easy to see God’s action in those He sends into our life in response to our prayer.  It is more difficult to be the person who God sends in response to someone else’s prayer.  [My emphasis.] I am often very conscious of my own needs, aware of the constant pressure points against body, mind, and soul, preoccupied with my own problems, worries, hopes, etc. Sometimes this can cause me to close off others, to be blind to their needs. Yet Jesus expects us to bear one another’s burdens, and in fact not to be anxious over what we shall eat or wear, or anything else because our Father takes care of all our needs (Matt. 6:25-32).

 Forgetting of self to be present to others implies being open to God’s call to be the person He sends to someone else in need. If we are to be God’s gift to someone else, we must constantly be corresponding with His grace to grow in the direction He wills, a scary thought when you come right down to it. We all know how fragile and imperfect we are if we’re honest with ourselves, and how we neglect to follow the inspirations of the Holy Spirit in us.

Continue reading at Barbara's blog Suffering With Joy.