Enough

I’m saying sorry over and over again- but it is not good enough for you. Man made perfect, you are perfect. I am apologizing for things that I did’t even do.

I hate you in my mind for making me feel this way. That I’ll never be good enough, brave enough, I’ll never be anything enough for you. Because that goal of what is enough is impossible to attain. You yourself are not even aware of it. What is your enough?

The words you say are spears and they’ve made a thousand and one cuts in the core of my heart. They are deep enough to penetrate flesh, they are deep enough to wound. The heart rests on the inside of the body and wounds deep are not visible- on the outside.

If you are not the God-man how can you say that you do not forgive me, even for a thing that I did not do? Because the gift of forgiveness is transcendent, the radiant face of Jesus, the blood of the cross and the Eucharist on my tongue, and you are not sitting next to me… in the pew.

Can it ever be enough, when will I ever be enough? My Heavenly Father seems to think I am enough…already. I am enough, even through all my faults, and spills and messes. Jesus is on the floor with me holding the rag, cleaning up the blood that I did not spill.

And though my heart is broken, His is too- for me and for you. That I am enough for Him and not for you. That my humanness is limiting. That my good is not good enough, for you. That to Him, I am walking towards transfiguration, making change, wanting Holiness, but to you I am defined by the sin that plagues   you..

Love is a choice. You can choose to love me, despite all of my flaws, and faults and irregularities. You can love me when I apologize to you for what you did, when I cover up for you and you blame me, when you tell me I am responsible for your sin and those of your father. And your father’s father.

This is Lent. A working out of my salvation. The voices in my head telling me not to forgive. The pain and the beauty. The little Easters. The desperately seeking Jesus. The seven times seventy-seven times forgiveness- without condition. The transformation inside me. The molding and the aching. The paying for the sins of another. The ugliness of your father’s father. This is the movement towards the cross. This is the cross. These are the rules of engagement.

Forgive, Forgive, Forgive

 

 

Do Not Fear the Cross!

Invitation to the Cross (His words to me)

“We must never say that the kind of sanctity, forgetfulness of self, love of the cross, self-immolation and so on-are not for us. That is our human way of looking at things. If God wants them of us, he will send the necessary graces; all we must do is to hold ourselves in readiness for anything that he may ask of us, and go ahead fearlessly.”

Dom Augustin Guillerand, O. Cart., French Carthusian monk and revered spiritual author

The question in my meditation time today was, when is the last time that you were happy? Such an odd question for Day 2 of Lent, when I was expecting the scourging at the pillar. But this Lent has been different for me, very different, as I had already spent my time in the desert prior to entering this Lenten season.

Instead, I felt Ash Wednesday as an opening. There was joy instead of pain, peace instead of sorrow. My foot entered the door of His kingdom and crossed over into an infinite threshold. There was no fire, or brimstone or darkness, but only light; light in my vision, in my body and in my soul. It was almost as if I entered heaven.

But how could this be? Was I not destined to be thrown into the darkness for self-evaluation, state of consciousness and penance? Yes all those things are important. But why had I entered the gates of eternal freedom?

Because, the Lord said, you have chosen the cross

In two or so months of suffering, it wasn’t until a single moment leading up to Lent that I sat with myself and decided to make that choice. I had had enough suffering, and I was willingly ready to hop on that cross. But if I chose death, would he give me life? It was worth the chance…

My soul is sorrowful even to death

When I gave up my soul to the cross, the tears ran dry. I could still feel every inch of the pain; but that was until I crossed over to the other side. And as I slid  into my spiritual death, the pain, the willingness to give it all to Him, the suffering suddenly stopped. I was inside the book of Revelation; He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death, or mourning, or crying or pain…and there wasn’t. 

The cross was true to it’s word- it did not fail me. I could only feel the splinters but for a second.

And suddenly my great pain turned into great joy, and my mourning to turned into dancing! The welcomed cross, the humble cross, the needed cross.

Choose life, God said, by choosing death

What a strange dichotomy. What an absolute wrecking of soul. But He is the God of the living, not the dead. And I praise the cross of His execution every time I get down on my knees.

O great physician of the soul! Oh great Master! May I die to self a thousand times a day to feel your infinite love!

“When I cried to the Lord, he heard my voice; he rescued me from those who attack me. Entrust your cares to the Lord, and he will support you.”

Psalm 55; A Lament over Betrayal