So many times in our lives, we’re confronted with situations involving pain: be it emotionally, physically, spiritually, mentally — suffering comes in all shapes and sizes…but all of it valid, and as a general concept: ultimately unavoidable.
And I promise that this post isn’t depressing…just hang with me here for a hot sec.
I’ve dealt with a lot of pain in my life, but the majority of it — my ulcerative colitis and anorexia — has been physical or mental. Which, each has its own particular challenges. But emotional pain — that is a different species all together: one that I had never truly experienced.
Emotional pain hits you to the point you cannot breathe. Where the emotional strife is so acute that it can actually manifest itself physically: sweating, chest pains, gut pains. That level of emotional pain is reserved for very rare occasions in life. And usually, that type of hurt is something that, for one reason or another, you cannot talk about with others….which is what makes this type of pain particularly difficult to cope with.
Which is exactly where Jesus comes in.
Recently, I went through something and all I could do was to go to daily Mass and just sit (or rather, sob) in the presence of Jesus and pour my heart out to Him. To just let Him have all my hurt and pain and just surrender it over. It was one of those situations where I had no idea what to do, nowhere to turn, and it was literally all I could do, or wanted to do was just escape to Jesus.
I learned early on in life, navigating those seasons of Ulcerative Colitis and anorexia that truly, when you feel desperate, alone, and out of options: there is but one source of refuge and rescue: the arms of Jesus.
But letting go of this emotional pain was really hard. It took days and days to really let go and find healing. And let me tell you — I can only imagine what people must have thought seeing a really pregnant woman sobbing her eyes out in the back row of church. (Everything is fine with our baby, BTW).
But Christ’s healing finally broke through yesterday. I was asked to bring up the gifts during Mass. (Which for my non-Catholic friends is when two people from the congregation bring up the bread and wine to the priest in preparation for the Eucharist).
And as I was bringing up the gifts, I just imagined my hurting heart in that bowl, along with the bread. I was offering it on the altar for Jesus to transform, just like He does the bread and wine.
That was when the healing broke through. And I just sat there, looking at the crucifix behind the altar. It has Jesus’ body with outstretched arms, hanging on the Cross, and I heard Jesus tell me, “I love you *this much*” just like a child tells his parents he loves them ‘this much’ while gesturing as wide as his wingspan.
Jesus had heard all of my prayers, all of my cries, felt all of my pain — He saw it, He knew it, and He took it and transformed it into peace – healed by the power of His love.
And afterward, it was as though a weight had been lifted from my heart. That part of me that felt shattered and broken was no longer all I could see and feel and think about. I could breathe.
And leaving Mass, I realized that I needed to offer that same outstretched arms-kind of love. That was going to be the measure of true healing.
We are all called and invited into Jesus’ suffering. And like Jesus, we must also transform that suffering into love, just like He modeled on the Cross.
It is a task that seems impossible at times. But with genuine and earnest surrender, and letting Him into your pain, He will take it and redeem it fully.
Until Wednesday, friends.
xox Caralyn
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