Jesus, I trust in You

By Nancy Shuman

The rays of His Light have broken through.  Pierced aridity, shattered a hardening heart, put darkness to flight... and all with a single aspiration uttered again and again. 

"Jesus, I trust in You." 

It is, perhaps, my favorite aspiration; its every word is filled with power.  I said I would let you know how my distracted attempts at prayer were going, and I'm happy to report that I have, in some ways, been praying unaware.  This morning I realized how automatically my heart turns to Our Lord in the midst of everyday life, often without a conscious decision on my part.  I don't think it's a coincidence that this awareness broke through on Mercy Sunday.
 

Continue reading at Nancy' Blog The Cloistered Heart.

Jesus, I trust in you

By Nancy Shuman

Painting by Kazimirowski
(Wikipedia)

The rays of His Light have broken through.  Pierced aridity, shattered a hardening heart, put darkness to flight... and all with a single aspiration uttered again and again. 

"Jesus, I trust in You." 

It is, perhaps, my favorite aspiration; its every word is filled with power.  I said I would let you know how my distracted attempts at prayer were going, and I'm happy to report that I have, in some ways, been praying unaware.  This morning I realized how automatically my heart turns to Our Lord in the midst of everyday life, often without a conscious decision on my part.  I don't think it's a coincidence that this awareness broke through on Mercy Sunday.

I used to have a wristwatch with an hourly alarm.  Each time it chimed, I'd pray inwardly: "Jesus, I trust in You."  No matter where I was or what I was doing, this little beep served as a monastery bell.  It was good training.

Is there value in simple, quick prayer that's so "automatic?"  I would say that indeed there is.  I have formed the habit of aspiration(s) by an act of my will, and Jesus (in His mercy) meets me much more than half way.  


Continue reading at Nancy's blog The Cloistered Heart.

St. Therese on littleness

By Michael Incorvia

(Photo in public Domain)

Littleness is what St. Thérèse desired with all heart.  She saw littleness as a way to spiritual childhood, a pathway to heaven, for “unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 18:3).

For Thérèse, littleness was surrendering to Jesus, trusting in God, bathing in Christ’s divine mercy.  In her littleness, she rested in God’s protection and found serenity.  St. Thérèse made God her Father in all aspects of her life.

She became completely dependent on God’s merciful grace.  When asked to describe this littleness, she replied:  “When we keep little we recognize our own nothingness, and expect everything from God just as a little child expects everything from his father. Nothing worries us.”


Michael originally posted this at his blog   To Love and Truth.

Complexity of grief

By Lora Goulet

Christ as the Man of Sorrows, Flemish School (photo credit: Wikimedia Commons).

complexity of grief 

 ends and begins horrific pain

loss inexpressable

departs and returns so unexpectedly

unbroken ice on a river before the thaw

looks so quiet

invisible undercurrent

ruptures and casts aside everything in its path

unleashes tears unstoppable

thunderous turbulence 

assured that He hears

our quiet garden prayers

Holy Mass, Eucharistic Adoration, Holy Rosary

His most tender and glorious Sacred Heart is our home

Jesus is always with us

His perfect compassion

He understands our circumstances

having loved so deeply

left with emptiness

mirroring the love 

Our Heavenly Father feels for His children

His passion and suffering in union with our sorrows

He sends His angels and saints to help us

as together we course the narrow turbulent path 

to the indescribable beauty of being with Him forever...

"His mercies are new every morning"(Lamentations 3:23)

En Los Corazones de Jesús y María

Lora originally posted this at her blog Camino La Mancha.
She also writes at mommynovenas.

Don't be afraid to approach God

 By Michael Incorvia



 

St. Therese at age 13 (photo credit: Wikipedia).

More fearful than standing before a large audience to deliver a speech, is standing before God.  We fear being found unworthy and sinful.  We need only look to the Gospels to dispel our fears.  Christ welcomed all to approach who felt unworthy because of their state in life or sinfulness.   They needed only call out His name or beg His mercy to approach and be healed.

St. Thérèse teaches that we should have complete trust in the merciful love of Jesus.  His divine heart is irresistibly inclined to pour out its mercy without measure on the abject and the lowly.

We are to approach Christ in “trustful humility” with our sinfulness, brokenness, and imperfections before us.  Through His mercy our sins will be forgiven, our brokenness healed, and our imperfections refined.

In “trustful humility” we should offer ourselves as an “empty vessel” to be filled with the love of God and ultimately absorbed in love in Him.  We should never fear His loving mercy.  We should approach unhindered, to embrace His merciful love.


Michael blogs at  To Love and Truth.

Humility: God's anesthesia

By Mary N. 

Madonna of Humility by Domenico di Bartolo (photo credit: Wikipedia).

God has been very good to me. Unfortunately, I have to admit that at times I have the bad habit of focusing on my flaws instead of God's mercy and kindness. Do I really think that my human imperfections matter more than the greatness of the Lord? No, but it can be easy for me to get caught up in this negative type of introspection.

Every flaw looks magnified when inspected up close.

The world becomes a very small place indeed when we focus on ourselves to this degree.  I know better than this but still catch myself doing it. There's nothing that imprisons a person as much as being overly preoccupied with yourself does. When it comes to spiritual matters, self-absorption is downright dangerous.

I'm quite sure we impede the work of the Holy Spirit when we worry about our spiritual progress. It's as if we were saying to the Lord, "I can't trust you with my sanctification. I am worried about my holiness because I don't quite believe you are powerful or loving enough to take care of this for me." Or perhaps we think He'll let us down and that we won't reach the impossibly high standards of holiness that we set up for ourselves with our fallen natures that (of course) know better than God what holiness is.

 In other words...

 ...I am  convinced that our own idea of holiness and God's are different. Very different.

Sooner or later everyone must get rid of the false gods they have set up for themselves...and the most difficult one to boot off the throne is the god of self. It's been a problem since the Garden of Eden and is no less of one today. The apple doesn't fall far from tree. Those who think they have escaped this aspect of the fall of man are deceiving themselves. The saints didn't think they were saints; they understood the depths of their fallen nature and their total dependence on God's mercy. They knew they were sinners in deep need of salvation. Once self has been kicked off the throne it becomes very clear that this is true in our own lives as well. One of the biggest obstacles to becoming a saint is thinking you are one already. The humble KNOW they are sinners but this doesn't bother them to a great degree because:


Continue reading at  The Beautiful Gate.

Small gifts, great love

by Elizabeth Tichvon

Grandmother's Birthday by Brenner (photo credit: Wikimedia Commons).

"Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful. Stop judging and you will not be judged. Stop condemning and you will not be condemned. Forgive and you will be forgiven. Give and gifts will be given to you; a good measure, packed together, shaken down, and overflowing, will be poured into your lap. For the measure with which you measure will in return be measured out to you" (Luke 6:36-38).

Where else in the New Testament does Jesus speak so intimately to each of us? None of us has the same opportunities to be merciful, to love, to forgive. Jesus gives each of us different talents that match the role He assigns us. Talents come in as many varieties as there are people, and all are equally important to His perfect plan. But we must use our talents to do His will by giving away gifts we design from our own passions and from our own desire to give.

A smile is a gift when it transforms a life. A prayer is a gift when it alters the direction of a soul. Wealth is a gift when it feeds a stranger. A word of encouragement is a gift when it lifts the spirit of someone we find hard to love. These gifts seem minor to us, but their weight is measured by Jesus alone. Our small gifts given with great love are just as precious to Him as a gift given by someone we hold high, like Mother Teresa, whose arms were a gift to countless children as she held them with their last breath.

Jesus places people of His choice, not ours, in our path for us to love. We must not waste the opportunity, but move forward according to this assumption, using our free will.

Our reward will be measured on its own and against no one else's. We'll recognize that our gift was considered great in Jesus' eyes when the measure He returns to us fulfills the deepest desires of our hearts.  Once again, we learn that loving acts bring us the greatest joy!


Elizabeth originally posted this as a reflection on the day's Scripture reading at her blog Clickity Click.