Most of us who have been Catholic for any good length of time have been advised at one point or another to “offer it up”. That is, to join your sufferings with the the suffering Christ and let Him make it redemptive and transforming - a source of grace for yourself and the world. And it’s true: knowing that no suffering is without value in this life gives a great deal of hope. Hope desperately needed when the pain feels pointless and awful. But it’s not enough to tell someone to “offer it up.” From the stubbed toes to the long bouts of severe illness, misery is hard. It’s tough to find a smile to cast towards God when all you want to do is shake your fist at Him. Learning to cast your suffering upon Him, and even embrace the crosses he permits us, is hard stuff! Some of the hardest you’ll ever do. I had moments of wishing I would die, the pain was so bad, and I’ve had moments where I did die, for my life was torn from me and yet my heart continued beating. Looking to His bleeding wounds upon the cross didn’t make these moments hurt less. In some ways they made them hurt more, for they made me stop trying to distract myself from reality. Making the offering, moment by moment, in the midst of these trials, made me feel like it had value. It made me realize that this was my work to help myself and the world. I pray my little kids never face some of the pain I’ve experienced - just the back-flip gone bad or the fight with a friend is painful enough at their tender ages - but I do hope to teach them that they can give these moments a sense of hope instead of only frustration. As I ponder *how* to teach my children about this incredible gift we have, this gift of being able to “offer it up” and “rejoice in our sufferings,” I also have to ponder the mystery of gift. Because choosing to give over the sufferings I receive to God only has value if it is free. I can’t make my kids offer things to God. I can only show them and teach them about it. And it is a careful area to tread, because I never want to use this teaching as a way to deliver myself from the suffering of helping them through things. I never want the phrase “offer it up” to take on anything less than it’s full meaning, that of hope in the midst of pain. It’s too easy to use it flippantly. It’s too easy to say, “offer it up”, when what you mean is “stop complaining.” I hear often, “think of those worse off than you and offer your pain for them.” And indeed, that can be helpful at times. But it can also fall into the trap of comparing. Or the trap of making you feel guilty that you hurt. I try to feel grateful that my pain isn’t worse, but that doesn’t make me stop hurting. Whether you are dealing with a big cross or a small one, it’s still a cross. “God will never try you beyond your strength” may be true enough, but He may still try you to your very limit, or even beyond, knowing that the strength one has also comes from the support of those around you. It is not the strength you carry on your own. If you’re pushed to your limit, it’s still your limit. It still breaks you; it’s still hard. It doesn’t matter if your limit is far shorter than another person’s. I hate to ever compare crosses, for each of us was given one fit perfectly for us, and though another’s cross may look far lighter than our own, it wasn’t made for us. And looking at a heavier cross doesn’t necessarily make your own feel lighter. Your own still weighs upon you. Rather, each of us must our own way to “offer it up”. We have to find our own intention that gives this work of suffering meaning for us. Perhaps you simply want to offer it to God, and have Him do with it as He will. And sometimes you can’t find the strength to do it, to say those hard words, “I offer this to you.” Or maybe after you do, you still need to sob aloud and talk with a friend and share your sorrows. Maybe you need someone to help you carry your cross, as Simeon did, for it has become too heavy to bear alone. I think the key is not to merely tell someone “offer it up”, but rather to say, “how can I help you make this offering?” “How can I help you see the value in this cross that seems unbearable?” “How can I support you through this?“ Mary didn’t say to Jesus - “Hey son, this is your suffering, bear it well okay?” She walked with Him. She wept over Him. She stood by Him. I want my children to know that whether they’re sad because of a skinned knee or a crushed dream, that they can look to me to help them bear it. I don’t want them to feel like their pain is belittled because I compare it to something much worse, or I don’t allow them to grieve. I want to show them the crucifix upon the wall and help them see that He who loves them enough to die for them, loves them enough to cry with them in their sufferings too. And He will bring these little crosses to bear much fruit.
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JpgA mother, pondering what it means to be loved. CategoriesArchives
March 2017
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