On Suffering

I was appreciative of Kevin Wells writing a glowing review of my book recently. But it put me in a weird head space. I felt dirty. I immediately prayed the litany of humility that evening. The next day I went cold turkey from 100mg of nicotine per day to zero. And then we all got COVID. 

If I'm honest, I pray very little when I am suffering; in the moment, it's just pure survival. As Catholics, we have a theology of suffering. It doesn't have to be wasted or meaningless, but can be redemptive. But I take solace in the words of St Teresa of Avila, “It shouldn’t be thought that he who suffers isn’t praying, for he is offering this to God. And often he is praying much more than the one who is breaking his head in solitude, thinking that if he has squeezed out some tears he is thereby praying.”

It's weird; God sent us physical illness as a grace, I think. I haven't been sick in over a year and then get hit with this double whammy of the physical and psychological hell of withdrawal/detoxing in addition to COVID. Strange timing. Plus trying to keep on the level with my mental health in addition to everything else.

In some ways, I've been trying to get through it by adopting the life of a temporary anchorite. Our bed is tucked in a small, closet type alcove off the main bedroom. For the past week, I have been going to bed before 7pm and sleeping 13 hours a day most days. The past few days, I have been soaking the sheets with sweat and waking up with chills, feeling clammy and gross. I haven't taken a hot shower in two years, but I afforded myself a hot shower the past few days in the morning. I can't read, can't write. I'm just trying to notch the days like a prisoner in his cell, at least until the drug is out of my system and I'm done drying out. Depression is lurking just around the corner, but so far has been kept at bay.

Suffering is ugly, and most of us suffer badly. But I took a cue from St. Gemma not to waste the opportunity to suffer for a soul--or in this case, a stranger whose marriage is on the rocks. I felt impotent to help in any kind of tangible way, so I told him I would offer up the suffering of withdrawal for the sake of his marriage. I also know it is not just willpower alone; I begged Our Lady to help me be free of this addiction, and that I would suffer for it if she would free me.

There is a moving scene in Entertaining Angels (1996), the story of Dorothy Day when Dorothy is thrown in jail for civil disobedience and is in the cell with another woman who appears to be going through withdrawal from drugs. She throws up on Dorothy, and Dorothy just smiles and cradles the woman's head in her lap and sings her to sleep. Jail is hard. Detox is hard. Jail and detox together is super hard, because of how cold and savage and environment it is. You're already at your lowest point, and you are suffering greatly on top of it all. To be a source of comfort and a light to someone in darkness in that moment is a great grace. This is how we should see ourselves as Christians. The Little Flower said, "I always want to see you behaving like a brave soldier who does not complain about his own suffering but takes his comrades’ wounds seriously and treats his own as nothing but scratches."

St. John Vianney said,

"On the Way of the Cross, you see, my children, only the first step is painful. Our greatest cross is the fear of crosses. . . . We have not the courage to carry our cross, and we are very much mistaken; for, whatever we do, the cross holds us tight – we cannot escape from it. What, then, have we to lose? Why not love our crosses and make use of them to take us to Heaven? But, on the contrary, most men turn their backs upon crosses, and fly before them. The more they run, the more the cross pursues them, the more it strikes and crushes them with burdens. . . . If you were wise, you would go to meet it like St. Andrew, who said, when he saw the cross prepared for him and raised up into the air, “Hail O good cross! O admirable cross! O desirable cross! Receive me into thine arms, withdraw me from among men, and restore me to my Master, who redeemed me through thee.”

Listen attentively to this, my children: He who goes to meet the cross, goes in the opposite direction to crosses; he meets them, perhaps, but he is pleased to meet them; he loves them; he carries them courageously. They unite him to Our Lord; they purify him; they detach him from this world; they remove all obstacles from his heart; they help him to pass through life, as a bridge helps us to pass over water. . . . Look at the saints; when they were not persecuted, they persecuted themselves."

Sorry this post leaves a lot to be desired. I feel like I am in a fog. Praise God for the gift and grace of suffering. Thank you Jesus.

"If I Die, I Die": The Illusion of Safety

I have always been fascinated by the church in China. But many Americans may not be aware of the unique circumstances of Christianity under the CCP. For one, there are over 57,000 state-sponsored churches in China as part of the "Three Self Patriotic Movement" (TSPM). These are essentially Communist-controlled puppet churches, counterfeits that hold the State above the Kingdom of God. Meanwhile, those who refuse to submit to the CCP and live out the true faith are ruthlessly monitored, interrogated, tortured and jailed. The former are considered "safe" churches; the latter, undoubtedly "unsafe."

Here in America, we are familiar with the slogan "Be safe." It was the mantra of our government during the COVID era, when safety became our golden calf. It can be argued there was a degree of prudence and uncertainty among the citizenry and local authorities early on when we weren't sure what way this was going to go; I'm not here to judge that or play Monday morning quarterback.  

A few years ago I read the book The Heavenly Man about evangelist Brother Yun witnessing to the Gospel in Communist China. It was one of the most inspiring books I have ever read, and his unwavering faith in Christ and the power of the Gospel is truly remarkable. It shouldn't be, for he is simply a believing Christian who lives out his belief (and is willing to be jailed, beaten, and tortured for it) as we all should. And that belief wields power--the power of the Gospel and the miracles promised to those who believe.

In trying to learn more about the plight of underground Christians in China during that time, I came across a sermon online by another inspiring witness to Christ, Pastor Wang Yi. Pastor Yi was sentenced to nine years in prison for "inciting subversion of state power." Unlike the church in America, which is able to pontificate about intellectual, theological, and abstract concepts, the Church in China is afforded no such luxury. What they are concerned with is, for one, the practicalities of how to take a beating for the faith.

What I found so powerful about this literal believer in Christ was how he inverted this idea of "safety" in one of his sermons (How I Approach Police Interrogations 面对询问时我会怎么做), which I have transcribed below. As you will see, he is less concerned about his physical or worldly safety, and more concerned with what he calls his "spiritual safety":

"I once told a few brothers and sisters that in my early Christian years, every time I entered the police station I was afraid. But I said I learned something that I wanted to share with them. I want to share it with you all, too. I don't know whether or not you'll find it helpful.

Do you know what I've learned? When I'm being interrogated at the police station, I put myself in a spiritually safe situation. 

What do I mean by a spiritually safe situation? I mean I put myself in a physically unsafe situation. This sounds kind of abstract. What I mean is that when I'm in the police station, for the sake of safety, I say everything upfront. I immediately arrive at the point of no retreat. Unless you beat me, unless you arrest me, we have nothing more to talk about.

If I discuss things with them little by little, if I prolonged our conversation, I will be influenced by them. I will feel spiritually unsafe. They will get to my head through some roundabout ways. Then my spirit will weaken, and many of their words and actions will affect me. I don't want to be in this kind of spiritual danger. So in the very beginning, I clearly and directly address the point of conflict in the starkest possible terms so that there is nothing more to discuss. Then there are no more questions left for them to ask me. All they can do is beat me or arrest me. 

I say to them very clearly, 'If I'm arrested today, I'm prepared to stay here. Unless you want to charge me with a crime and arrest me, I have nothing more to say. I don't dispute the Communist Party's rule over this country. But Communism is evil. This is what I believe. 'Do what you want to me.' 

As soon as I say this, there is no turning back. I've discovered that this puts you in more physical danger. But it also comes with a great benefit: it increases your spiritual safety. So this is what I do every time. When I do this, I know that I'm spiritually safe.

Jesus also did this. Jesus often, through one word, forced all of Israel, all of the Sanhedrin, all of the Pharisees into a position where they had to kill him. Either they had to believe in him or they had to kill him. As C.S. Lewis said, you must either fall at his feet and call him Lord, or you must kill him. Because there is no middle ground, no safe zone.

So let me encourage you all, brothers and sisters: When you are facing persecution, when you are facing pressure because of your faith, don't give yourself too much wiggle room. Articulate the most controversial point as early as possible, and then, with Esther, say, 'If I die, I die.' It is often those who say, 'If I die, I die," who live in the end."

As Christians who are comfortable waxing about liturgical nuances online or ranting about the vax or extolling the lofty ideals of Thomistic philosophy or complaining about this or that, I think it's important to be brought down to earth from time to time by witnesses such as Pastor Yi and countless other Christians outside the U.S. who are not afforded the "safety" of freedom of religion and freedom of speech, but who nevertheless count the cost and take their beatings singing in a gospel simplicity that, quite simply, should put our faith to shame. Theirs is not a theoretical but a fundamental faith...not an abstract cost, but a real and painful one. But it is not in vain, either. For Christ truly promises life to those willing to lose it...and these Christians are indeed willing. 

When we hold on so tightly to the illusion of safety--especially when it comes to staying safe in our faith--it's like dousing the charcoal with lighter fluid and never striking a match. And persecution for these Christians is the flint that ignites their faith; a deep faith that becomes immovable, unshakable, even against Goliaths like the CCP. These are the men and women, brothers and sisters, we should be seeking to emulate. To say with them in deed, spirit, and solidarity, and without theological embellishment, "If I die, I die." For it is those who profess and embrace that death in paradox who truly do live in the end.

Here I Am. Send Me.

 

A lot of hand-wringing and angst-tweeting by faithful Catholics with the in-your-face juggernaut of corporate Pride, Inc. as the month of June is peeking its colorful head around the corner. It can often feel like a David and Goliath situation and I don't blame our brethren for staying in their safe spaces and raising cain from a keyboard. Real life is sloppy and often unscripted. A lot of times, even though people won't always admit it to themselves, people are just trying to figure things out as they go.

I spent the afternoon having lunch with a now-friend who is a member of our parish community. I listened intently to him for an hour and a half relay the tales of the pre-indult period spent fighting to sustain the Latin Mass in our diocese, from the early 1960's til not too long ago. He (and his elderly father) were in the trenches: invested in time, money, energy, and spiritual capital to keep the flame of tradition alive when everything around them was working to make sure it was snuffed out for good; the "Latin Mass celebrated in a hotel" were not just fairy tales from a time long long ago. They also endured hostility from all sides, and were not immune to in-fighting as well.  At times it was barely a flicker of light in a vast darkness, and I don't think many people newer to tradition realize what was endured during those early days. 

There were no blue-prints or script for how to go about fighting these battles; but they knew what was at stake and that it was worth fighting for. I admire that, as I admire my now-friend, even if there is a lot I am still working through myself and how little I still know about the history of the Council and the tumultuous wake it left faithful Catholics in. In speaking (or rather listening) to him, it became clear that there is no 'perfect way' of going about these things, and the only ones who get it right are the Monday-morning quarterbacks and critics highlighting the shortcomings after the fact. 

I'm a little bit of a thinker, but it's more outweighed by the impetus to 'do.' I loathe meetings and conferences and talking ad nauseum when it isn't followed by action. When I reflect back on my time spent in the Lion's Den of San Francisco Pride six years ago when I took a red-eye out from the East Coast to SFO to witness to the 1M+ attendees there to the truth of the Gospel, there were many times I thought to myself "What the hell am I doing? I just dropped $700 on a flight to stand in the middle of a mob of gay activists and BDSM hedonists for four hours and hand out rosaries and witness to a people who want to hear nothing of what I have to say, then fly back the same day. And I have an abject fear of crowds to boot! Why, why am I doing this? I don't want to do this!" The answer was pretty straight-forward: The Lord through the Holy Spirit sighed "Who shall I send? Who will go for us?" and before I could think twice or second-guess it, I replied: Here I am. Send me! (Is 6:8)

I didn't know what to expect, or what I was expecting. It seemed like a fool's errand. But as I have lived as a Catholic for the past twenty five years, my inner convictions in one area have stayed firm: if I can bring even one person to Christ and the Gospel and the truth of the Catholic faith, I can die having lived a good and purposeful life. In that massive sea of rainbow fish, there may have been one soul swimming upstream in his mind but not knowing where he was going. It was raining men all day, but I was fishing--not with a massive net on a commercial ship, but with a single rosary line on a clapboard tugboat. Souls are often won one at a time, and even that one soul you may have to fight and plead tooth and nail for. 

So, I went. I remember feeling like a fool, but also at peace for having the assurance of the Holy Spirit that at least in that moment, I was doing what God was calling me to do. Not bitching, not complaining, but taking action. It was a good lesson for me, and one I kept close to my heart years later. 

The funny thing is there was a moment when I felt the Holy Spirit clearly saying GO and I hesitated for an hour or so. We were on vacation at the time, and I remember when I was checking available flights online (an hour later, as I was hemming and hawing and thinking this was crazy), the one I was going to book suddenly jumped up $200 more than the one from an hour before. It was the only flight out of PHL that came back the same day, but it was going to cost me a good bit more. So I booked it. It was a good lesson--when the Lord calls, don't hesitate to answer. 

 I should mention too I work in an extremely LGBTQ friendly-Marxist environment, so it felt especially tenuous and I was fearful of any professional repercussions were I to get caught up in any media presence, etc. A lot of those fears were unfounded. A valuable lesson I learned from a civil-rights activist (which I quoted from in my article Christian Men, Take the Beating) and took to heart was this:

"They made black people experience the worst of the worst, collectively, that white people could dish out, and discover that it wasn’t that bad. They taught black people how to take a beating—from the southern cops, from police dogs, from fire department hoses. They actually coached young people how to crouch, cover their heads with their arms and take the beating. They taught people how to go to jail, which terrified most decent people.  

And you know what? The worst of the worst wasn’t that bad. Once people had been beaten, had dogs sicced on them, had fire hoses sprayed on them, and been thrown in jail, you know what happened?

These magnificent young black people began singing freedom songs in jail. That, my friends, is what ended the terrorism of the south. Confronting your worst fears, living through it, and breaking out in a deep-throated freedom song. The jailers knew they had lost when they beat these young Negroes and the jailed, beaten young people began to sing joyously, first in one town then in another." 

If you know what's right, you don't count the cost. You fight for it. You go where you are called. You obey the Lord. You take the beating. 

I found in a deep-recess of my email my reflections from that day in the belly of the beast. It's interesting to read it now, because I, too, get comfortable in my little Catholic bubble, my safe space. I don't want to look like a fool. I have a lot to lose. But there is a danger, too, in not obeying the Lord, passing by opportunities to witness, ignoring grace or signal graces or gut-feelings, not only speaking when you should hold your tongue but holding your tongue when you should speak, or only speaking when you should be marching, or only marching when you should be locking and loading. 

We are called to labor and work, and we don't need to always do it perfectly, with imaginary Catholic critics in the back of our heads pointing out all the things we are doing wrong. Half the battle is showing up, and when you live by faith you are given your marching orders but not a crystal ball. The Lord gives us what we need to know in that moment, and not before. 

I may be accused of getting things wrong more often than not--but it's harder to accuse those who seek to be faithful and follow and back it up with the imperfect labor of the the second son, the one who says, "I won't go," and then puts his gloves on.  

So, do the work. Don't worry. After all, you are called to be faithful, not successful. 

Sent: Sunday, June 25, 2017 at 08:21:35 PM EDT

Subject:

It has been a marathon day, and I'm pretty spent, but God is so good. A few reflections from SF Pride while it's fresh in my mind:

The first is that everyone was pretty pleasant and free-spirited for the most part. There was not a lot of belligerence, no yelling and minimal confrontation. These are not "bad people," but as i see it, they are lost, hurting people, and also other people just going along with the crowd. There was a lot of drugs in the air, you could smell it everywhere, so maybe people were just happy I don't know. Joseph is very mild mannered and polite and admits that his presence there is a bit of a Johnny Appleseed operation. People didn't know what to make of us. I think they were so pleasant because there were many gay-affirming churches present at booths and I guess they thought we were just members of another one of them, since we were wearing shirts that said, "Jesus loves gay men and women." Which is true, but hard to go into it on the street...that Jesus everyone without exception, loves us so much he wants more for us than what we degrade ourselves to. It was boots-on-the-ground ministry and hard to connect one-on-one, so we gave out rosary bracelets and a card with Joseph's website, I think in the hopes that they will visit the site after the parade at home when things aren't so crazy. Joseph said his site gets about twenty times more traffic in the days after Pride. I remember the first post I read when I found his website was 'Hell is For Real' about his near-death experience. I think that's what struck me about the day, what I made mention to Susan: this parade, this world...it's not reality. It's somebody's reality, but it's not what is really true and really real. It is as if there is a cliff behind the curtain, and nobody really sees it. For four hours I wore a smile (a genuine one, mind you) and said more "God bless you's" than I could count. But on the inside I was breaking up at the offenses against our Lord, the perversion. I offered up the soreness, the sunburn, the hunger and thirst to The Lord in the hopes he would pardon such offenses, an act of reparation that pales with what he endured on the cross for us.

Something interesting note as well was that this really was a quasi-religious event, albeit not in the traditional sense. There was a procession of sorts, down Market Street. There were men in underwear dancing on platforms wearing angel wings. One man was dressed as the pope in mockery, blessing people...another, Our Lady, a kind of blasphemous Madonna. Why would they do this? Like Satanists who do not have Black Masses at a Methodist church, or an Episcopal church, or a Baptist church...they mock the Catholic Church, and desecrate the Eucharist. And it was very similar here. Satan mocks, and he doesn't bother to mock what has no power. But there was also a hunger here, a hunger for God and what is religious and even Catholic...but not on God's terms. It was a perverted substitution. There was also a legitimate sense of a craving for love and affirmation, but somewhere along the line a hurt, a trauma maybe came in and something must have failed along the way. Joseph has written about this. You wouldn't believe how many rosary bracelets we gave away, people wanted them, but in a way in which they did not understand.  There was dancing and laughter and happiness, but it felt like a facade because like Joseph, I know what's on the other side. It is easy, so easy to go along with what is around you, when you are surrounded by it as the majority, and it's even seen as good. But it was like...I felt like I was in an alternative universe where everything was upside down. It didn't shake my faith, but it made me fearful of God's judgment. God has been so patient with us, and I think that time may be running out, and so I pray the rosary every day and if anything flying out here has convinced me to start fasting and offering up sacrifices for conversions. Because there is really nothing we can do on our own, the force against us is to strong. We need God. NEED Him. And prayer is an indispensable weapon in this fight.

One thing that bothered me was seeing children at an event like this. I thought of my own children, and so many other children...toddlers, pre-teens, and adolescents...who are just being born into this confusion and won't know any different.

Joseph made an interesting point too, that there were many corporate sponsors of the event, a lot of backing. It felt like Goliath, honestly...a powerful force to be reckoned with. I felt like a needle in a haystack. I had peace and an assurance of being on the 'wrong side of history,' because it was evident that this was the history of man, not God, for God is not the author of confusion (1 Cor 14:33). It made my heart heavy, but only because as a Christian I was finally entering into the fray; it was new to me, but not new to human history, for the world will hate us because it hated Him first (Jn 15:18), and we'd better get used to it if we want to be Christ's disciple.

My final reflection is that the scene was just saturated with sex. It's like you get numb to it. And that's not how God intended sex to be. There was no modesty at all, and I'm not talking in a prissy kind of way. I wasn't scandalized by it per se, but it's just...if people knew the power and holiness of sex as God intended it. I don't know. It's like a secret, but one that God wants us to know. There was a part of the parade where people would engage in all kinds of perversions, and Joseph said in the past he has gone over and prayed over that area, you know outstretching his hand and all. And people would react violently, the way demonics would react to being exorcised kind of.

I can't help but think the Church has let people down. I'm not talking about the Catechism or the Holy Spirit's assurance that the gates of Hell will not prevail against Her. I'm talking about waffling and wavering in practice. The temptation to be liked is so strong, and I'm sure those in ministry and pastoring have made the mistake of capitulating so as not to be hated. Well guess what? If you're not hated for your faith, it should give you pause. Because we are past time for dialogue and understanding. You'd better pick up sides and get on your knees when you see what we are up against, the way Satan has his way in the world. Now, I'm late to this fight, so maybe I'm just as much to blame. But the narrow path is becoming more clear to me as the only way to be saved. It should have been clear from the start.

I'm tired and sunburned, hungry and thirsty, and I thank God and give him praise for the opportunity to offer it up these pittances and to taste some of the derision and sorrow He experienced as he hung for us, men of the mob who favored Barrabas over the very Son of God. I don't know why he called me fly out here from Philadelphia. I hope maybe we touched one person. God bless Joseph for his endurance and compassion and commitment to Truth in a way that is not always understood or accepted as normative, and to people who most of us would not minister to. What a blessing to go into the trenches with him, even if just for a day. And thank you thank you thank for all your prayers, they sustained us for sure.

"Do You Love Me Still?"

My wife and I are attending a weekend marriage retreat in a couple months; it will be the first one we've done in our twelve years of marriage, so I'm hoping it's a good opportunity to have some time together and maybe work on underlying issues we're not aware of. 

Twelve years is not a long time in the grand scheme of things, but it's long enough where you've gotten comfortable, somewhat mechanical, and--let's be honest--lazy. It's easy to take your spouse for granted, but as the years go on you assume they'll always be there, always love you, always do the dishes or change the oil. 

It's a dangerous assumption, to be quite honest. I find that the times I fall into sin in general are the times I rest my eyes rather than remaining vigilant. The times of relative peace and complacency, as when King David should have been in battle with his men but remained at the palace instead (2 Sam 11:1)

It's easy to love someone when you know they love you. But the real work of sanctification comes when the person you pledged your life to (and vice versa) actually despises you, has betrayed you, or no longer loves you. "If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you?," our Lord says (Lk 6:32). 

I'm not sure you can have any kind of authentic love without suffering. That is why the love of Christ is so complete, so full, so redeeming--because he did not fail to suffer for us. He did not stand afar off, but entered into our existence to give meaning to our suffering and to redeem us through it. 

My wife told me about a friend who was struggling to come to terms with the fact that her father has picked up a girlfriend when that friend's mother came down with Alzheimer's. It filled me with a kind of indignation towards this man that I didn't even know--"you don't DO that to a person!" How could he? But it is more common than we think--when our needs are not being met, or we make our vows conditional, we start to look for loopholes. So as not to suffer.

I was thinking about this as I was kneeling on the floor without a kneeler at Mass. The first ten minutes or so, I was caught up in praise of the Lord and thanksgiving. But as the minutes rolled on, and the pressure on my knees grew, it sobered up my spirit and I got into squirmy discomfort mode. I imagined the Lord saying,

"If I willed you to remain kneeling for an hour, a day, a week...would you still love me then? Can you love me only when it is comfortable for you?"

The Lord caused Peter pain when he asked him three times, "Simon, do you love me more than these?" Peter felt hurt, as the Lord did not appear to hear that Peter responded affirmatively, "you know that I love you, Lord." And it was true. He did love the Lord. But Jesus addended his admonition to "feed my lambs" with this passage I have gone back to on many occasions:

"I tell you the truth, when you were younger you dressed yourself and went where you wanted; but when you are old you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will dress you and lead you where you do not want to go" (Jn 21:18).

Isn't that marriage? Isn't that being a father? Doing that which you don't want to do, going where you don't always want to go? But that is how we prove our love, to show that we are not fair-weather partners. 

As Christians, Christ baptizes our suffering with meaning and purpose. There is a kind of faith in that which is needed to keep us from nihilism--that it is not wasted, not meaningless, not for naught. Christ could not have done that without the cross, and we can't either if we are honest in following him, as he says, "anyone who does not take up his cross and follow me is not worthy of me" (Mt 10:38). 

But we also operate on the faith that there is nothing that can separate us from the love of Christ (Rom 8:35-39), that Christ never stops loving us, and that his love is trustworthy. Therefore, we don't have to operate in fear and uncertainty that we cannot lean on him, that he will abandon us, because even when he appears to withdraw for a time, it is for our ultimate good; He does not abandon us.

Just as gold is proved in a furnace (Wis 3:6), our love for the Lord is refined not by what He gives us but by what we are willing to endure for Him. We can apply this to our spouses as well--they are not servants, or business partners, or conditional friends, but spouses for life. They could be taken from us tomorrow, or we could live with them for another twelve years, or twenty, or fifty. 

So, let our love be proven by what we are willing to suffer for it, and let our sanctification not come without scars. 

The Gift Of Suffering

 Thanks to a freak chain series of mechanical and weather related events, my 1pm flight home from Houston has been bumped back by about ten hours. I’m tired, hungry, and would just like to see my family. But it’s a true gift. Thank you Jesus!

We were asked to be a family representative to greet the new bishop at his installation Mass tomorrow afternoon. It’s the first time in over 100 years our diocese will ordain a bishop (he is a Monsignor). EWTN is covering it, and every priest in the diocese, including a cadre of bishops and cardinals, will be there. If my flight doesn’t get canceled, I’ll roll in around 4am (instead of 5:30pm as originally scheduled), get to work at 8, and head out early to meet my family at noon. But that’s in God’s hands at this point. Thank you Jesus!

Because of the domino effect of bumped flights and lack of airline and concession and food workers, the lines stretch forever for all food and restaurant places for those that are even open. I ate breakfast twelve hours ago, so it’s a perfect opportunity to fast for the conversion of sinners. The water fountains are working though! Thank you Jesus!

My friend let me borrow a copy of Fr Thomas Dubay’s “Happy Are You Poor,” which I had always wanted to read. And now I have both a copy and four hours to read. Lessons to learn! Thank you Jesus!

I’m writing this blog post on my phone, because I didn’t bring my laptop. I found a seat with an outlet, and the airport has free WiFi. Marvel of technology! Thank you Jesus!

St. Alphonsus writes

“We call adversities evil; actually they are good and meritorious, when we receive them as coming from God's hands: "Shall there be evil in a city which the Lord hath not done?" "Good things and evil, life and death, poverty and riches are from God." It is true, when one offends us unjustly, God does not will his sin, nor does he concur in the sinner's bad will; but God does, in a general way, concur in the material action by which such a one strikes us, robs us or does us an injury, so that God certainly wills the offense we suffer and it comes to us from his hands.

"Whatever shall befall the just man, it shall not make him sad." Indeed, what can be more satisfactory to a person than to experience the fulfillment of all his desires? This is the happy lot of the man who wills only what God wills, because everything that happens, save sin, happens through the will of God. There is a story to this effect in the "Lives of the Fathers" about a farmer whose crops were more plentiful than those of his neighbors. On being asked how this happened with such unvarying regularity, he said he was not surprised because he always had the kind of weather he wanted. He was asked to explain. He said: "It is so because I want whatever kind of weather God wants, and because I do, he gives me the harvests I want.'' If souls resigned to God's will are humiliated, says Salvian, they want to be humiliated; if they are poor, they want to be poor; in short, whatever happens is acceptable to them, hence they are truly at peace in this life. In cold and heat, in rain and wind, the soul united to God says: "I want it to be warm, to be cold, windy, to rain, because God wills it." This is the beautiful freedom of the sons of God, and it is worth vastly more than all the rank and distinction of blood and birth, more than all the kingdoms in the world. This is the abiding peace which, in the experience of the saints, "surpasseth all understanding.'' (Uniformity With God’s Will, ch 2, 3)

St Paul writes to the Philippians, “I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength.” (Phil 4:11-13)

Thank you Lord, for everything that comes from your hands. We are right where we need to be by your Divine Will. Who knows who you may put in our paths that we may have missed otherwise? Who knows what calamity may have been avoided on account of your delay? How are we to learn patience and mortification of the senses when we avoid the opportunities you present to practice them? “In all things give thanks.”

Thank you Jesus!

I Was Afraid Of Suffering. That Time Has Passed

I have no models but the saints, and a few friends of faith. But after living the faith for a while (like a fool, not having gotten the memo that everything is relative), you start to think yourself a little fray, a little cray, over time. Because all the dots are connected, everything is clear--what you are living for, what you need to do, where you are heading--and you look around and everyone--your family, the people in the pews, your pastor, your coworkers, the people at the store--seems to be unaware, unconcerned, or unbothered.

So you start to doubt yourself. Maybe I am crazy? Maybe I should tone it down?

I don't believe anyone needs to look for suffering. Unless it is God's will for you to suffer. Then that changes everything. And it very well may be, but that is His prerogative, not ours.

It has been my impression among non-Catholic Christians that suffering is not seen as redemptive, maybe something to be avoided. Not always, but at least in more prosperity-type mindsets. There is not the value in it ascribed by Catholics. In the Church, given the history of the saints and Christ's own suffering, it makes sense, does have value, is used in the work of redemption. It's this context that I find myself.

'When it is all over you will not regret having suffered; rather you will regret having suffered so little, and suffered that little so badly.'

--St. Sebastian Valfre

I pray I will not eat these words someday. But I'm starting to get it, and it is only by reading the lives of the saints who lived it. And even if I did, should it move me to weep in weakness, I would be in good company with Peter.

"I desire to suffer always and not to die. I should add: this is not my will, it is my inclination. It is sweet to think of Jesus; but it is sweeter to do His will."

 --Bl Mary of Jesus Crucified "The Little Arab"

God's will. His will. Always God's will. I would rather be the vilest worm by God's will than a seraph by my own (Bl Henry Suso).

We must abide by God's will despite what we think might be right on the surface. If God calls us to meet a friend at a fine restaurant one night when we want to fast of our own accord, it is wrong for us to fast. Who knows, it may be for his conversion that we are called to dine well that night and speak with tenderness over wine. And the nights where we desire a steak and a drink, He may call us to fast for this same friend. Who knows. Only God's will matters. Always His will. Lord, I come to do Your will.

"For it is better, if God should will it so, that you suffer for doing what is right rather than for doing what is wrong" 

(1 Peter 3:17)

The question should not be 'how will I suffer?' but 'will I suffer for Him?' We suffer when we resist sin, since we are in the flesh. That is doing what is right, what Peter talks about. When we do wrong seeking pleasure, we suffer but by the world's hands, since the love of the Father is not in us when we are consumed by love of the world (1 Jn 2:15).

Do we dare ask for suffering? That I am afraid of, still, reluctant. But in His will, only His will, it may be part and parcel. Will I avoid it then? St. Peter, give me strength to go to death in my time, give me faith as you walked on water, give me courage to suffer disgrace for the Name. 

I don't know what is happening to me. I don't know what is happening in the Church. But I know God is working, and He wills to work through us if he give him our fiat, as our Blessed Mother did. I used to be afraid, but I'm not so afraid anymore, and it is only by grace. My life is empty without Christ, and I want, I will to give him my life whatever comes, because he is worthy to be trusted. Lord, use me and do not leave me alone. If all my friends leave me, do not leave me Lord. And if you do, only fortify me in the darkness, and send your angels to minister to me in my weakness. 

See, you are doing a new thing in your Church! I was once afraid of suffering for your sake, Lord, but if it be your will and if your work demands it then send it Lord.  So that with St. Maximilian, I might have the privilege, Lord, to say: 

"For Jesus Christ, I am prepared to suffer still more."