Have you ever Googled the word “love”? If you did, you may have come across something called the Love Calculator. It is a website where you can supply two names, and the percentage chance of a successful relationship is calculated. Curious, I entered my name and my wife’s. Twenty percent! I hope my wife doesn’t read this!

I then decided to add my name and God. A whopping 13 percent! Then for the last attempt, I put in my name and Jesus. A very disappointing zero percent! Am I that unlovable? Of course, then I read the small print at the bottom of the page: “Please note that this site has no serious intention whatsoever.” Shocking!

The truth is, the modern world increasingly seems to have no real idea what love is or how to determine when love is real. That makes the seemingly simple words of Jesus about loving God and your neighbor very complex indeed. How can you love God with your all your heart, soul, and mind when you have no idea what the act of loving means? And then, what constitutes loving a neighbor? To make it more complicated, Jesus commands you to love them like you love yourself. I bet you can agree with me that there are a lot of people out there who do not even come close to loving themselves. Knowing what love is in modern times is just not that easy. How is a wellmeaning person able to find out the true meaning of love?

You don’t know what true love is? I think you do. Turn your eyes to that crucifix hanging in your church, home, or office. The answer was given over 2,000 years ago, and the image remains for the entire world to see.

Tracy Earl Welliver is currently the Director of Parish Community and Engagement for LPI where he manages the company’s coaching and consulting efforts. He has spoken on and coached dioceses, parishes, and individuals on stewardship, engagement, strengths, and discipleship all over North America, Australia, and New Zealand.

Has anyone ever made a request of you by beginning with the caveat “if you love me?” Prefacing a request like this seems to be a form of emotional manipulation or a form of demand. I have had it done to me before and I really do not care for that approach. In this Sunday’s Gospel we hear Jesus doing exactly what I would prefer no friend of mine do in asking me for something.

Jesus gets a pass here, not just because of who He is, but because it becomes clear why He uses this turn of phrase when you understand what the statement entails. “If you love me, you will keep my commandments.” Honestly, how can one argue with that? Many times when people preface a request with “if you love me” it is because they are preparing to ask for something beyond a reasonable or agreeable request. Can we make an argument against what Jesus is asking? For the disciple, the only answer is no.

The answer is no because there is nothing unreasonable in the Lord’s request. There is nothing in the commandments that is contrary to our personal well-being. There is nothing in the commandments that will adversely affect us by our being faithful to what is asked. Here is our problem: many times we have a false notion of what is truly good; at times we want what is contrary to our ultimate good because sin has darkened our intellect and disordered our passions and appetites. Our ultimate good is in receiving God’s free gift of salvation. God wants that good for us and assists us with His grace to be able to receive that good. However, we have to want that good as well, and not act in ways contrary to it or in ways that will result only in obstacles to our receiving it.

This brings us to another aspect of Sunday’s Gospel: the promise of the Advocate. As Ascension and Pentecost approach, we are reminded that the Holy Spirit is the on-going gift of God’s presence with the Church, collectively and individually. It is the Spirit who seeks to cast light on our darkened intellect and passions so that we can see our choices for what they are; either a help or a detriment in deepening our relationship with God and keeping our focus on the things of heaven.

“If you love me, you will keep my commandments,” the Lord says to us. Dovetailing that we could also say “if you love yourself, you will keep His commandments,” since keeping the commandments will lead us to eternal life with the Lord in heaven. Loving God and keeping His commandments may seem to involve sacrifices but what are we really giving up? If anything is contrary to God then it is also contrary to our own good and we are not really “giving up” anything good.

May the Holy Spirit, the promised Advocate, continue to shine God’s light on our choices so that we may see the good and choose it daily. In choosing the good, we are choosing God and His promise of life with Him forever in heaven.

Father Christopher House is the Rector of the Cathedral and serves in various leadership roles within the diocesan curia, namely Chancellor and Vicar Judicial.

When I was little, I came home from school one day after a lively lesson on saying yes to God in our lives and declared, “If Jesus were to come today and ask me to go with him, I would say yes and go right away!” My mother was rightfully cautious and explained that if anyone claiming to be Jesus wanted to take me, I should come ask her first. As a child, I was let down that she wasn’t as excited to say yes to Jesus as I was. As an adult, I can laugh and appreciate her response. She knew I could easily be deceived and the likelihood of Jesus coming to me in person was pretty low.

In the Gospel we hear Jesus say to us, “I will not leave you orphans, I will come to you…” It is so striking to me that this gospel is being read during our current times. During a time of confusion, suffering, uncertainty, and for many isolation and loneliness, God the Father is actively caring for us and telling each of us, you are not alone. The language of orphans and hope finds its answer in God’s plan for humanity when Jesus says, “I am in my Father, and you are in me, and I in you.” Despite all the failings of human history and our own failings, we are called to truly become part of God’s family as His children through Baptism. We are called to be able to emphatically say yes to God as his children, no matter where it takes us.

The disciples knew this well and lived it boldly as we see in the first reading. The Holy Spirit enabled them to rise above worldly sufferings and persecutions and work miracles in Christ’s name. In many ways, their courage is tied to their hope. St. Augustine once said that, “hope has two daughters, anger and courage; anger at the way things are, and courage to see that they do not remain the same.” The boldness of the disciples came from the love of the Holy Spirit that Jesus promised to give us all. The same Holy Spirit received at Confirmation. To be people of hope, we are called to be people of love and courage. I’m reminded of this when I read St. Peter’s letter in the second reading. We may not see Jesus face to face as I was expecting as a child, but we do experience his voice and truth through the Church he founded. St. Peter encourages the faithful to be ready to give an explanation to those who ask for a reason for this hope. We ought to be always ready, in love and gentleness, to proclaim the gospel, even if it is difficult. It helps us ask the question: Am I living a life rooted in hope to the point that I can declare boldly like a child that God is for us and not against us?

In a real way, we have the unique opportunity to be online disciples in our world today with so many facets of society moved to digital platforms. God may not send us His Spirit to raise the dead as He did with the early Church, and we may not experience persecution, but He is calling us to raise souls from the brink of despair by our words and presence today. We are marked as members of a divine family and no longer tied to this earth. He has promised we won’t be left orphans and has sent the Advocate to give us the strength to live in the hope of this promise. What will we do with it? Will those we interact with online, even in the small hidden ways, see this witness? Will they notice something different about us? The answers to our most profound questions about our situation have already been answered in the love of Christ. This saving love is the hope we are called to embody and share with the world. Let us do it boldly, and with the hope and trust of true children of God.

Angie Windnagle, BSC is an author for Liturgical Publications, Inc. and writes reflections on the Sunday readings.

I’ve been trying to mark each day as different during quarantine life.

Friday nights, our family gets takeout to support a local business and watches a movie together. “Clueless” and “Roman Holiday” have been big crowd pleasers.

Saturdays, we take a laptop out on the deck and work out to a Zoom bootcamp together. We laugh hysterically when our burpees look nothing like our instructor’s.

And Sundays before Mass is streamed live into our living room, before I have my morning coffee and before the rest of my family wakes up, I walk the mile downhill to the edge of Lake Washington to watch the sunrise.

Of course, quarantine life hasn’t been all fun and laughs. Most of the time it feels like that Bill Murray film, “Groundhog Day,” and I wonder when it will end. There have been tears, confusion, and an ache of weariness in our bones.

And yet.

It’s dark on that walk down the hill. I watch lights turn on within houses as I walk past. I can smell coffee brewing and bacon caramelizing on the stove. The birds start singing on my way and I’ll see a family of raccoons scampering across the street further down the road. They notice me with their beady red eyes and disappear into the shrubbery. The sky starts to turn a shade of steel and I know it’s time to speed up my gate.

I don’t want to miss it.

I want to see the sunrise because like the Psalmist, I pray in the morning that God will hear my voice, I plead with him and I wait. (Ps 5:3-5) I want to feel that it is going to be different.

I want to see the sunrise because I want to remember that God is still in charge. The sun is still rising every morning. He’s taking care of the big things, like governments and viruses, and he’s taking care of the smaller things, like the health and safety of my little family and the unrest in my heart.

I want to see the sunrise because I want to see how God is going to show up, not just in the sunrise but in this mess of a pandemic. I feel as if I am almost daring him to show up. I know he’s here but I want something big.

The sky is still steely blue when I arrive at the lake. My heart calms as I watch the sky transform from azure blue to indigo purple.

A man with a fishing pole walks down the dock and baits his hook. We are the only two people out here on the lake before 6 a.m.. I find a small comfort that I am sharing this with him, even a stranger. I am not alone.

The sun begins to peek over the Cascade Mountain range and the sky pinks up. Orange reveals itself to meet pink and the sky resembles rainbow sherbet.

“This is lovely,” I pray, “But I want something even bigger. God, fix all of this.”

I know the answer even before I turn to walk back up the hill to home as I hear the words from Ecclesiastes ring in my heart:

The sun rises and the sun sets;
Then it presses on to the place where it rises.
What has been, that will be;
what has been done, that will be done.
Nothing is new under the sun!
Even the thing of which we say, “See, this is new!” has
already existed in the ages that preceded us.
(Ecc 1:5,9-10)

There is a strange comfort in that. I think it’s called Hope.

Shemaiah Gonzalez is a freelance writer who holds a B.A. in English Literature and M.A. in Intercultural Ministry. She thrives on moments where storytelling, art, and faith collide. A Los Angeles native, she now lives in Seattle with her husband and their two sons. For more of her writings, visit www.shemaiahgonzalez.com

This journey of faith is not always easy. Sometimes the greatest wounds are those we suffer when family members and friends wander away from God and leave us behind. The faith they had when they were younger is now strained, or they see the daily walking with Jesus to be too difficult. For them, Jesus becomes what Peter wrote about when he described Jesus as the stone that causes people to stumble and the rock that makes them fall. Our journey is hard enough, but watching a loved one stumble and fall is heart-breaking.

What are we to do in such a situation? Most importantly, we pray. We must realize that God is more powerful than us, and even if we can’t make them see the truth, He can. Then we witness to the transformative power of Jesus by our own lives. We need to serve him in word and deed. We should let a joy of being a disciple enlighten our faces. Allow Jesus to work through us so that others may be drawn to him. Lastly, we must never lose hope. Many have walked long journeys alone only to find God far down the road. What will it take to bring someone to Christ? It might be an action, a word, or an emotion. We never know how certain people will be touched. That loved one is a gift from God in your life. Place them back in God’s hands, and let Him pick them up if they have stumbled and fallen.

Tracy Earl Welliver is currently the Director of Parish Community and Engagement for LPI where he manages the company’s coaching and consulting efforts. He has spoken on and coached dioceses, parishes, and individuals on stewardship, engagement, strengths, and discipleship all over North America, Australia, and New Zealand.

For this Fifth Sunday of Easter this year, the Church provides for us a selection from the Gospels that takes us back to the night before Jesus died. These passages that are presented to us are from the fourteenth chapter of John’s Gospel, a section known as the Last Discourse. Jesus would have been speaking in a way that would have bewildered the disciples; they would most likely have been perplexed and confused, as we hear from Thomas’s question. Little did the disciples know that in a matter of hours their lives were “going to fall in” as one commentator puts it. They would find themselves turned upside down in chaos and uncertainty.

The Scriptures are timeless. We must never forget that the word of God is as apropos for us today as it was in the days when it was first heard/lived. Most of us can relate to the unfolding drama recorded for us by John. A few months ago (it is somewhat mystifying to say “months” now), we were living our lives but how quickly those lives were upended, not as quick for the disciples perhaps, but still quick for us, in about a week’s time. At times like these, it is easy to fall into the trap that Philip does in the Gospel when he says to Jesus “show us the Father and that will be enough for us.” We might be tempted to say “just manifest your power or glory in some undeniable way, Lord, and we will believe.” We do not need to ask God to reveal Himself in such ways since He is always present; it is up to us to recognize Him.

In these months, I have seen the face of God in the many, many parishioners who contacted the parish office early in the shutdown to let us know that they were prepared to help in any way those who were vulnerable and could not get out for food, supplies, or medicine. I have seen the face of the God in those who have generously and sacrificially continued to send in financial support to the parish. I have seen the face of God in those who continue to manifest small and large acts of kindness, compassion, and selflessness in these uncertain and sometimes frustrating times. I have seen the face of God in these days because God is always present, hiding in plain sight, wanting and waiting to be seen by us. I hope that you too have been able to see the face of God in these uncertain times.

Being able to see God present around us is vital to our moving forward because moving forward now involves a degree of uncertainty and maybe some apprehension or fear for some, just as it did for Thomas in the Gospel. As we look forward to the days ahead, with a desire to return to some normalcy, if we are able to see God in our midst, then we can look forward in hope, even if the path and the details are unclear.

Some much of who and what we are has become uncertain: our routines, how we view the world, and how we understand this life. In the end, there is still one certainty and that is our loving God revealed to us in Jesus Christ who is the way, the truth, and the life. St. Paul teaches us that He is the same yesterday, today, and forever and so is His love, His mercy, and His presence among us. Find Him present in your life so that, together, we might move forward in faith and hope to a better tomorrow. God bless you and yours!

Father Christopher House is the Rector of the Cathedral and serves in various leadership roles within the diocesan curia, namely Chancellor and Vicar Judicial.

Patience. None of us have as much as we need. We all need it.

The lead singer of Guns N’ Roses, Axl Rose, even sang about it. Of course, he isn’t exactly the pinnacle of patience. If he were, he never would have sent a roadie on a plane from the U.S. to London moments before a concert to fetch the infamous yellow jacket he left behind. (And you thought you’ve had challenging bosses.)

Patience. I’m told it’s a virtue. Patience is exemplified mostly by saints who became saints because they were capable of said virtue. Saint Monica of Hippo patiently prayed for 17 years for the conversion of her son, Augustine — and we’re all thankful she did.

I don’t exactly put forth 100% into my practice of this virtue. I’ll be the first one to stand up and share that if there were a patience deficit, I would be the poster child for it. I am what-not-to-do for patience. Ask my kids, ask the cat, ask the countertop I vigorously tap while “patiently” waiting for everyone to start gravitating towards the door to leave for anywhere.

I struggle with patience in all aspects of my life, but specifically as a parent. I can only answer the same questions so many times before I want to bang my head on the wall. I can only imagine how I must make God feel when I do the same. I struggle with patience regarding my chores, my marriage, my work, my family, and people I run into in life. I am not always charitable. I allow myself to get frustrated, I get angry, I’m not friendly, I yell, I get short-tempered. I forget I make mistakes. I forget all the times that others have been patient with me in life. Most importantly, I forget God’s infinite patience with me.

Mother Angelica said that “patience is adjusting our time to God’s time,” and that’s a problem for those of us who have grown so dependent on an instant-gratification culture filled with Amazon Prime, good wifi, and remote voice commands.

As a parent, I’d like to be better at being patient with the Lord when I ask for something. On any given week, I tell my children “no,” “later,” or “another time.” All because their requests are either not timed right, not good for them, or simply not possible. The only difference is my response to my children is clear, immediate, and direct. If God is clear and direct, which I’m confident he often is, then I’m not being open to listening because I want what I want when I want it… instead of having faith and trusting God.

God gives us what he wants when he wants us to have it. Like any good parent, he knows when the best time is, or if there is a best time.

I once heard that the best way to understand God’s time is to understand his ability to see everything. God is above looking down on the entire locomotive we call time. All at once he sees the caboose, the engine, and every car in between (past, present, and future). The train moves slowly for us riding inside of it, and even if we’re walking around, it takes time to move a few cars up. God sets things in place for us in a certain car. It may take us several “cars” to reach the intended one, but we always get there. Even if our request isn’t in the car, I’m positive a lesson to be learned is along the way and we almost always understand his answer by the time we get there.

Patience is a “time” thing for us. We experience the waiting period that God doesn’t. I’m certain this is the way it is because in waiting, there can be suffering, but there is also always hope in this life. Every request is a trust fall exercise with a God we can’t see but one who is there and wants us to just let go. He’ll catch us. I think making us wait is his way of pushing us to trust in him. To ask and then let him do his job. God can see the whole train.

While I don’t always understand the “whys” in life, I know if I trust and stay patient, the wait is a lot easier. So, how do I make the wait bearable? Well, I don’t most of the time. Because I’m not patient. But I do try. I try to remind myself to trust God. It’s an hourly effort most days to remember that he is not ignoring me, but that he knows what’s best for me and he will take care of me.

I work towards patience daily (and fail hourly). I start and end the day with an Our Father and when I feel myself losing patience a quick Hail Mary. If it’s a really rough day I say multiple Hail Marys in rapid succession. When I’m frustrated and feel my tipping point is coming, I try to say, “Jesus I trust in you” in an effort to slow myself down. I also recently came across this prayer for the virtue of patience:

Patience is a virtue of the Lord: He awaits the return of His children. Forgive my trespasses Oh Lord Jesus, For many times have I tested You. I deserved the wrath of Your hand, But You saw greater things for me: Your patience has been enormous! Grant me a droplet of such endurance, That I may abolish my impious impatience, Refraining from using unpleasant words, And always reflecting Your serenity. Great is the Lord Jesus in His ways!

Patience is a virtue but it’s also a journey that takes a lot of dedication, humility, piety, perseverance, faith, and love. Most importantly, it takes trust that God’s got this. In the words of Axl Rose: “… take it slow, and it’ll work itself out fine. All we need is just a little patience.”

Christina Antus lives with her husband and her three cute, but noisy, kids. When she’s not writing, she’s running, reading, folding forever-piles of laundry, and probably burning dinner.

Promises have meaning and are typically not taken lightly. There is something about receiving someone’s promise that evokes peace in our hearts. While the present moment may be uncertain or trying, knowing there is something good on the horizon gives hope. In John 14, Jesus shares heavenly promises bound to bestow peace and hope.

Jesus comforts us, proclaiming that we should not let our hearts be troubled. He encourages us not only to have faith in God but also to have faith in him, an act of trust you will never find misguided. Faith, as Hebrews 11 tells us, “is the realization of what is hoped for and evidence of things not seen.” Most experiences of faith are something not seen but felt only in our hearts. Perhaps having faith is not always the simplest task, but God never asks the impossible; therefore, we can be assured of the grace necessary to accomplish it.

We can hold tight to other promises shared by Jesus in today’s Gospel as well; these are especially comforting in times of uncertainty. Jesus has gone before us and is preparing a place for us — meaning there is room in heaven for everyone. Furthermore, He promises to come back and take us there so that all we need to know of how to get there, is to follow the Way, Jesus himself. For Jesus is the Way, the Truth, and the Life — the model of faith and giver of peace.

Although Jesus has gone before us, he is still, and will always be, right here with us. As worries mount, so too does the tendency to feel God has forgotten us, but the Scriptures ask us to recall the promises of His presence. Hope is restored upon the assurance never to be forsaken nor abandoned (Hebrews 13:5); recalling Jesus remains with us always, until the end of the age, to be exact (Matthew 28:20).

It is precisely those moments when we struggle the most to see God amid our circumstances, that we should rely those promises. With the gift of hindsight, we can look back to the outcomes of other hardships or trials (especially those beyond our control), carefully and prayerfully recognizing all the graces bestowed. Possibly the situation didn’t resolve as wished, yet there is a discernable peace associated with that time and some greater good that came from it.

A family once prayed for a cure to their brother’s terminal illness. They longed for his healing. As the disease progressed, so did his once dormant faith. Before becoming sick, he was far removed from the Catholic faith. His illness brought forth completely different healing as he decided to embrace a relationship with Christ. The miraculous reception of the sacraments, after too many years to count, and the acceptance of God’s will; amazed the family, who likewise found great peace in this otherwise unwanted circumstance. In the end, the eternal promises of Christ resulted in a peace that was truly beyond understanding.

Like St. Thomas, we too can worry we’ll not know the path to the place Jesus has prepared for us. The road may seem confusing or beyond our reach. The promises, while trustworthy, may feel as though they are meant for someone else, and not for someone so filled with doubt, sin, or fear. Remember, out of great love for us, while we were still sinners, God sent his only Son to die for our redemption (Romans 5:8).

Jesus is truly the Way, the Truth, and the Life, and we don’t have to search far to find he is always with us. He journeys alongside our darkness and our joy. He is the embodiment of the unseen God; if we have seen him, then we have seen the Father.

We don’t need to search far to find signs and wonders of God. We can witness his almighty love in a sunrise, the sweet smile of a child, and the peace which comes in prayer. “Amen, Amen, I say to you, whoever believes in me will do the works that I do, and will do greater ones than these, because I am going to the Father,” (John 14:11). Amen, this is where hope prevails amid the most challenging and uncertain times.

Allison Gingras is the founder of ReconciledToYou.com — where she shares her Catholic Faith and Relationship with Jesus with laughter and honesty, and how it is lived in the everyday, ordinary of life! Allison hosts A Seeking Heart with Allison Gingras recorded on FB Live Mondays 12:30 pm et; and distributed through Breadbox Media. Her newest project is the Stay Connected Journals for Catholic Women, published through Gracewatch.Media. Allison works for WINE: Women In the New Evangelization. As their WINE Steward she oversees and facilitates the online aspect, aka the Virtual Vineyard, including WINE Book Clubs.

When I was in eighth grade (1989/1990), I saw the movie The Shoes of the Fisherman for the first time; it has since become one of my favorites. The 1968 movie stars Anthony Quinn as a Ukrainian archbishop named Kiril Lakota who has been imprisoned in a Siberian labor camp by the Soviet government. The movie begins with Lakota being brought to Moscow and face to face with Soviet Premier Kamenev, played by Sir Laurence Olivier. The crux of the meeting is that the Vatican has brokered a deal for Lakota’s freedom, but before Lakota finds this out, Kamenev asks him if has learned enough in his confinement to face freedom. Lakota responds that he has already been free for a long time because he has spiritual freedom.

This scene has been bouncing around in my mind lately because I have felt like a captive these past weeks due to the public restrictions in place because of the COVID-19 pandemic. I’m filling to bet that I’m not the only one in the parish who has felt that way. At the same time, in honest reflection, I know that I should not feel that listlessness inside because I have allowed my mind to err concerning what true freedom is and from where it comes. True freedom is not about the things of this world, nor is true freedom something that this world can ever give us.

The Fourth Sunday of Easter is traditionally nicknamed “Good Shepherd Sunday” because, you guessed it, the Gospel for this Sunday always speaks of Jesus being the Good Shepherd. When I envision a shepherd, two main qualities come to mind: one who protects and one who leads. The Lord Jesus seeks to do both for us. He offers us grace upon grace to aid us in the struggle against evil, sin, and temptation. The challenge for us is to open up and direct our lives to receiving these graces from the Lord. When we do, not only will we have divine aid in our struggle against sin and temptation but we will also find ourselves being led more and more to detachment from the world, and detachment leads us to true freedom in Christ.

If we find ourselves feeling like caged tigers these days, it’s a good time to ask ourselves how attached we are to the world and what belongs to it. Are the world and the things of it bad in and of themselves? No. However, if we seek to attach ourselves to the things of heaven and the life of grace then we will experience greater inner freedom in our lives, the freedom that Lakota knew in The Shoes of the Fisherman. If you have some extra time in these days of isolation, try and find the movie on-line, and, more importantly, ask the Lord Jesus, our Good Shepherd, to lead you to greater detachment. You will find that the grace of detachment will lead you to greater happiness and peace.

Father Christopher House is the Rector of the Cathedral and serves in various leadership roles within the diocesan curia, namely Chancellor and Vicar Judicial.

Well, here we are in the “new normal” of COVID-19. And we don’t know how long it’s going to be before things change.

We have to strive to be strong and to be together (in spirit, of course). This indeed will test our character, our strength, and our coping mechanisms, and will really show what we’re made of. And the better we learn to handle ourselves in this time of isolation, the more bearable these days will be.

If, however, it seems our lives are beginning to unravel and/or spiral out of control, we would do well to remember that there is someone who can still be our Rock. His name is Jesus Christ. The blessing of having our Catholic faith is that we know this. But what about those who don’t? Perhaps this could be a significant moment in history for us to help people come to desire him more than ever before. This, of course, will be influenced by the degree to which we radiate peace and joy amid this time of great suffering and upheaval.

If our lives are seen as attractive (in the ways not of this world), people might be more open to Jesus, as a result of first becoming more open to us. Hopefully, authentic relationships may develop through which a person might choose to eventually take a leap of faith. And we want people to take that leap, for after doing so, what might seem like unbearable suffering can be seen in a new light.

How Faith Transforms What We “See”
In my own life, I was moved by the attractive example of others, opened my heart to Christ more, began to taste his love in a new way, and began to trust him more than I ever had before. This made it easier for me to cooperate with God’s grace, which brought about blessings beyond measure (and much healing). This brought me to realize that God’s plan for me was better than my plan, and that made me want to know God more intimately, and to cooperate with him (and his graces) more profoundly.

The after-effects of that journey, however, is that I can now see how I am handling myself during this isolation a lot better than if this were to have happened years ago, before my conversion. And today, not only am I able to make this time bearable, but I can also make it fruitful. And regardless of the degree of suffering, you can too.

Entering A New State
The reason for that is because I learned that I could use those experiences to enter more deeply into the Passion of Christ. With all due respect to the profound suffering that people are experiencing, in due time, and with due support, we can choose to enter his passion out of love for him. In doing so, we can more profoundly unite our hearts and our sufferings to his and can begin to walk with Christ in a more intimate way. This might be easier said than done, but it is still something we can set our sights upon as a target.

Through that, however, we can come to see our purpose in a whole new way. Ultimately, of course, our purpose is to work for the salvation of souls. But if we embrace suffering and unite our hearts to the Lord, we can gain a better understanding of what that actually will look like in our lives, and how our choice to do that might impact others in a positive way. Through that, over time, we can gradually shift from wherever we are, into a state of mission—befitting of furthering the Kingdom of God. In that state of mission, we can come to see the suffering is no longer just an occurrence, but rather is an occurrence that we can transform into something better. And that “something better” is penance.

Carrying Our Crosses
If we become engaged in this mission, we ought to not expect that the crosses we are carrying will just go away. Rather, we ought to expect to gain the strength to carry them, and to carry them well, not with resentment and or bitterness, but rather with interior joy and peace—hopefully eventually to the point where it attractively radiates outward from within us. How we get there isn’t to do with the type of sufferings we are faced with during our lives—or whether they become alleviated—but rather is to do with whether we are willing to change our thinking, such that we can willfully accept sufferings as penance instead of experiencing and wasting the suffering altogether.

In other words, if we change our thinking to see that our sufferings can be given as a gift to God by being transformed into a form of penance, then enduring those sufferings can be seen through that new lens; the lens of charity. And when we willfully endure penance with the joy of knowing we are giving the gift of our hearts to the Lord (not that we should seek out the suffering to bring this about), that penance can be used for the good of all humanity; for the eternal salvation of souls!

What a profound gift to give!

A Renewed Sense of Purpose
In transforming our way of thinking like that, we can become renewed with a sense of purpose that will last our entire lives. Also, it will give us the confidence to embrace future inevitable sufferings with courage so we can serve in even a greater capacity.

And that points us to greater intimacy with Christ—in a complete, consistent, and forever type of love.

So, when suffering seemingly becomes too great, or at any point leading up to that threshold, perhaps we can remember that complete, consistent, and forever love, and courageously embrace our sufferings as a penance.

If enough people strive to enact this degree of charity, the face of the entire world would be forever changed for the better.

Hudson Byblow is a Catholic speaker and writer who presents at conferences throughout Canada and the United States. He shares his personal testimony to clergy, schools, and parishes and consults for various Catholic agencies, speakers, and educators. He focuses on his story of overcoming trauma while pursuing greater self-honesty and truth. Today he strives to elevate the conversation through clear language while revealing the joy of living chastely in his newfound freedom in the Lord. His website is www.hudsonbyblow.com.