My dad died very suddenly one ordinary day of my fifteenth
year. I remember reading Anne of Ingleside up in my parents’
bedroom when I suddenly heard my mom calling my brother from downstairs, “John!
Dial 911. Your dad can’t breathe.” At
that moment, something cold and terrible hit me in the gut, and I knew that
life wouldn’t be the same again. My dad
was taken to the hospital in an ambulance, and died an hour later from
respiratory arrest brought on by emphysema.
Soon after this, genuine faith came into my life like a new
gift, giving meaning and joy in the midst of pain and upheaval. What a tremendous gift and what perfect
timing – and with this newfound faith came new friendships which have lasted
through the years.
God showed me how to struggle with Him – through questions
like, “How do I know Christianity is THE religion?” and then, “How do I know
Catholicism is the way to be Christian?” and others, “Who is Mary and what role
does she play in salvation history?” and “What does the Eucharist mean, and why
is it called the ‘source and summit’ of our Catholic faith?” And as these
questions surfaced in my heart, and as they worked themselves out through
prayer and research and friendships, I found that God could be trusted with my
doubts.
Except one doubt. One
doubt has laid hidden in my heart for years like a sealed box, covered in dust
and chains. This is the doubt I would
like to ignore. I would like to pretend
it isn’t there and to have a safer faith.
That doubt is, in a phrase, “When is the other shoe going to
drop?”
In the midst of any joy, any happiness, this doubt is always
hovering in a corner, asserting itself, saying things like, “Something painful
is bound to happen. Something will disturb
the peace. And God won’t stop it. Even
if He is good, loving, faithful, the other shoe will drop and there is nothing
that can keep it from dropping.”
I am not sure how to answer to this doubt – and I am
absolutely sure it is related to my dad’s sudden death. It makes trusting a difficulty. It makes uncertainty difficult.
But today it struck me that Mary, in the middle of her great
joy in Jesus’ birth, and in presenting Him in the temple, heard, “And a sword
will also pierce your heart.”
How, I wonder, did she handle years of this prophecy hanging
over her head? How did she live under
the umbrella of this ominous promise with joy, with peace, accepting Jesus in
each day, knowing that at any moment, at any time, the sword was coming? Did she know she would have Jesus for 33
years? Maybe she wondered, those three
days he was lost in Jerusalem as a boy, if this time she was going to lose Him
for good.
And yet, I believe wholeheartedly that Mary lived her life
in peace and in joy, not because she ignored the sword, but because she
embraced it – she made the sword her friend.
And I believe that she embraced the sword because she loved Jesus. She loved him on the good, joyful days, when
he was popular and celebrated, and she loved him when he was being mocked and
reviled. She knew that no matter what,
her path lay with Him, and that meant both the greatest joy and the greatest
sorrow. And, full of Jesus, consumed by
grace, she forgot herself.
Her love lay her open to the greatest pain and suffering,
and yet her love freed her from her fear of it.
If God is our first love and our first treasure, there is
nothing to fear.
(Easier said than done!)
No comments:
Post a Comment