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Healed While Being Healed

When I first watched the Chosen, I was really touched by a scene from season 3 episode 2. Jesus was preparing to send the disciples out on mission to heal the sick and exorcise demons. In the TV series, Little James has impaired mobility and uses a walking stick to get around. I say in the TV show because large portions of each episode are imaginative reconstructions of conversations and events not recorded in Scripture. This artistic license serves a purpose: to bring the Gospel accounts to life and invite us to reflect more deeply on them. Still, I sometimes wonder whether people realize that the back stories and context added to the plots are not always a part of Scripture.

In this scene, little James approaches Jesus because he’s confused by the idea that a disabled person was being sent out into the world to heal people. Wouldn’t it make more sense for Jesus to heal him? He expresses the fact that he feels inferior to the other disciples who are physically whole. Jesus is so compassionate with him and his concerns, and during the discussion, Jesus leads him to understand the beauty of his story – his decision to follow and believe in Jesus without being healed. The scene comes to an end with Jesus telling him to remember that he will be healed in time. He wasn’t meant to spend eternity with the disability.

During my recent illness, I was meditating on this scene. A friend of mine had previously said something along the lines of God, who exists outside of time and space, has already done everything necessary for our salvation, which includes complete healing. However, we receive the fullness of this gift as we walk through time, and fully when we passover. In prayer, I started realizing that in some real way, I have already been healed, even while God continued to heal me. This idea helped me stay focused on what was important, that I allow the Holy Spirit to use my life circumstances to conform me to Christ. If this illness is a means by which God wishes to conform me, then blessed be the name of the Lord. It also helped me experience God’s faithfulness and mercy as I wrestled with both the typical question, why is this happening to me and struggled to make sense of things.

As I allowed this concept to infuse my understanding of the situation, I found myself vacillating between a few different thoughts. First, I had to struggle against apathy and resignation – “Well, God, if this is what you want, then ok.” I had to remember that God does not want me to suffer, but sometimes God uses suffering to remove things that prevent me from being conformed to Christ. I learned to try and maintain a sense of adventure, of asking,“What is God going to do with this? How will he use it to his glory, which is also to my own glory? I can’t wait to see!” That was hard, and I didn’t fully get there all the time, but it helped me stay positive and focused on the good God could bring from it.

Second, I also struggled to ask God to heal me at times because … wasn’t he using it to conform me to Christ and/or other good things. I had to remember the example Jesus set. He asked to be delivered from what was coming, but then added that the Father’s will be done. Luke 22:42. I had to remember that the good news is that while our prayer might not be answered the way I want when I want, but I can always trust that what he permits to happen will be used to move me on the path of sanctification.

Third, I also found its easy to wait on the Lord in a passive manner – the idea that one just sits back and waits on the Lord. While it’s true that the inner healing of body, mind, and soul is the Holy Spirit’s, the Sanctifier’s job, I still have a role to play, a role of learning to cooperate with grace so all of this can be accomplished in me. The Holy Spirit does the heavy lifting, but I am still called to participate in his work within me.

With this understanding, I found it easier to hope in the promises of Christ because Christian hope isn’t “I hope or wish that this happens.” It is a firm conviction that what God promises is true. When I focus on the truth that God has already done what needs to be done for my eternal healing, what need is there for worry? That’s not to say that I never struggle to live in such hope, but I see that as I learn to think about the good that can come from the bad when I surrender and trust in God, I can better wait on him and allow him to show me, often in hindsight, that he was there with me, he brought something good from it, and I become better able to hold on in hope.

Whether you agree with me that there is a mystical “healed while being healed,” I hope the knowledge that suffering is not forever and that it has meaning can be a consolation for you in your own suffering. I pray that all of our lives start to look more and more like Little James’ character in the Chosen, and that we are better able to go out into the world proclaiming the kingdom whether God removes our suffering now or in the hereafter. Let our stories be that of hope and living in the adventure of learning to become one with God who is love.

In Christ,

On Suffering

Most of you don’t know that I was diagnosed with an autoimmune condition last year, ulcerative colitis. For many years now, I have wrestled with scriptures that say God protects us, but my life circumstances don’t reflect what I expect that to mean. My illness has given me more direct ways of exploring these questions. Why am I sick? Why didn’t he protect me from this? This blog will attempt to lay out some of the things I’ve learned over the last year and a half.

In many respects, the answer is rooted in “God is love.” 1 Jn 4:8. The entirety of scripture together tells us that we were created to live eternity with God in love. The New Testament tells us that transformation is required for us to be able to do so. This begs the question, what does a transformed life look like? The answer is — like Christ. Paul regularly talks about our lives in Christ; not simply with Christ. Baptized people live no longer as individuals, but as members of Christ’s body. Galatians 2:20, 1 Corinthians 12:12–27. Thus, we need to turn to the life of Jesus to see what we are to become.

When I look at the life of Jesus, I see someone who gave his all for the many. He poured himself out both in life and in death. He lived selflessly and self-givingly. He loved like no one who came before him or after him. As Paul says, he didn’t wait until we lived up to our potential, but came while we were still sinners. Rom 5:8. He ate with the outcasts without shunning them. He is king of the universe, but lived as a servant, not as human leaders do. He lived in full trust of the Father’s love and concern, even to the cross.

I don’t know about you, but my life looks very little like his life. There is a lot of transformation yet to be done, and this is where at least one of the meanings of suffering comes in. While God is continuously working to heal our wounds, he can make great progress when we seek to handle suffering like Jesus did in his passion. This means the spiritual life is about collaborating with the Holy Spirit to heal the wounds that prevent us from living life to the fullest in Christ; our life of living, moving, and having our being in Him. Acts 17:28. One of the ways this happens is through the practice of dying to self and carrying our crosses, something that is required of all disciples. Matthew 16:24–25, Mark 8:34–35, and Luke 9:23–24. When we die to self, to selfishness, we grow in our ability to love as Jesus loves.

In my experience, suffering has brought into the light several misperceptions about God and his ways. I can better see how my misperceptions cause me to prioritize myself over others. I have learned (imperfectly as of yet) how to be with Jesus in his passion. How to abide in God even when I feel confused or want to force my will, my way. How to trust that God, like a doctor who may perform surgery or use chemo to heal us, can use our suffering to transform us. I am learning to surrender to the process and watching how God is using the good and bad of life to teach me how to live more Christ-like.

In these trials, God is teaching me to live more selflessly by living in trust with him. This is not to say I now live fully from these lessons. To some degree, it is knowledge received in prayer; knowledge that I will spend my life learning to live from with the help of the Holy Spirit. With the help of his grace.

No, I am not transformed, but I am being transformed through the power of God within me by baptism. Such transformation happens not only through trials and tribulations, but through every aspect of my life as long as I continually seek to live my life in Christ. As far as whether God protects me or not, I’ve learned to believe that he is protecting me into eternal life in Christ, which sometimes means not living a comfortable and cozy life in this world. I’m learning to have faith that if God allows something to happen in my life, it is an opportunity to be conformed to Christ.

Holy Spirit, I offer you the good and evil in my life today. I know I still live in a broken world and I trust you to use every aspect of my life to perfect me in Christ. Teach me how to cooperate with you. I know you will not override my will, and I hereby expressly give you permission to do what you need to do within me today.

In Christ,

He First Loved Us

In 1 John 4:19, we hear that we love God because he first loved us. Have you ever stopped to think about the importance of this in the spiritual life? That while we were still sinners, he loved us and sent his only Son. He didn’t wait for us to make progress. In fact, it seems he gave us hundreds of years of history to show us that we were incapable of making progress on our own. Just look at the Israelites and their struggle to live the way God instructed them to live. Despite being the chosen people, they could not do what they were supposed to do.

In Ezekiel 36:27, we receive a hint as to why this is true. In that verse, God tells us that he will place his spirit within us so we can live the covenant. Imagine the joy of the disciples at the Last Supper when, according to John’s Gospel, Jesus said, I have to leave so the Holy Spirit can come. Jn 16:7. Every Jew present at that time would have known what that meant in light of Ezekiel’s prophecy.

For those of us who are baptized, we have received his Spirit. However, we still struggle to live the covenant. Why is that? In truth, the key answer is that life is a journey of learning to cooperate with the Holy Spirit so we can learn to follow his breath-like inspirations towards properly living the covenant. At the same time, I think learning the importance of how he first loved us is a key towards learning to follow those inspirations.

So, why is this passage so important? I would suggest that our ability to love him flows from our ability to receive his love for us. It is difficult to surrender to the truth that despite our sinful behavior, he loves us. Don’t believe me? Just look at your favorite image of Jesus. Make eye contact, and see if you can ponder his love and receive it. Sometimes this might be easy (or seem easy), but other times, it is very difficult. When we learn to receive his love, we learn to love him in return.

In Christ,

The Suffering Servant

For a while now, I have wanted to study the suffering servant poems to better understand them. My understanding of poetry and ability to connect with these passages has limited my ability to undertake this task. Over the last few weeks, I have been learning about AI, and its strengths and weaknesses. I’ve been alternating between ChatGPT and Claude. Here, at the beginning of Holy Week, I thought it was a good opportunity to see what these two tools could do to help me achieve my goal. I asked both to compile a narrative that blends the four separate passages while being true to the poem itself. I thought I would share the fruit this endeavor, in case it proved beneficial to anyone else. This is the ChatGPT version. It stays more neutral within the text itself. The version Claude produced was beautiful, but it interpreted it against my Christian lens. Of course, I’ll offer you the same disclaimer GPT offered me, AI does not always get things right, but this seems pretty consistent to the best of my current understanding.

May God lead you deeper in your faith this week as we reflect on what Jesus did to restore us to the fullness of our human dignity!

There is one whom the Lord upholds, one chosen and delighted in. The Spirit of the Lord rests upon him. He does not draw attention to himself or force his voice to be heard. He moves quietly, without breaking what is already fragile or extinguishing what is barely alive. Instead, he brings forth justice with steadiness and faithfulness, and he does not grow faint or discouraged until what is right is established.

The Lord formed him for a purpose that reaches beyond a single people. He was given as a covenant, as a light to the nations, to open blind eyes, to bring prisoners out from confinement, and to lead those who sit in darkness into light.

From the beginning, his life was called and shaped by the Lord. He was set apart from the womb. His words were made sharp and effective, yet his formation was hidden. He was held in the shadow of the Lord’s hand, concealed like a carefully prepared instrument. Though he was chosen, his experience included a sense of laboring without visible result, of spending strength without return. Yet even in that, he entrusted his cause to the Lord, trusting that what was unseen was not lost.

His mission was not limited or small. He was not only to restore what had been scattered, but to become a light reaching outward, so that salvation would extend to the ends of the earth.

He lived in constant attentiveness to the Lord. Each day, he received what he needed to speak and to sustain others. His ear was open; he listened and learned, and then spoke in a way that strengthened those who were weary. He did not turn away when obedience brought suffering. He offered himself fully—his body to those who struck him, his face to humiliation, enduring shame without resistance.

Yet he was not abandoned in this. He knew the Lord was near, helping him. Because of that, he stood firm. He did not collapse under accusation or opposition, trusting that the One who vindicates was with him. He set his face with resolve, knowing he would not ultimately be put to shame.

Still, his life became marked by rejection. He was not esteemed by those who saw him. He was familiar with suffering and grief, and people turned away from him. What he carried was not recognized for what it was. Yet the suffering he bore was not only his own. He took on the weight of others’ grief and pain. What appeared as affliction was, in truth, something he carried on behalf of others.

He was wounded and crushed, not for his own wrongdoing, but because of the transgressions and burdens of others. What fell upon him brought peace to others, and through what he endured, healing came. Like one led without resistance to death, he did not protest or defend himself. He remained silent even under judgment.

He was cut off, removed from the land of the living, though there was no deceit in him and no violence in his life. Yet this was not outside the purpose of the Lord. Through this suffering, something was accomplished that extended beyond him. What he offered—his very life—became the means by which many were accounted as right.

He poured himself out completely, even to death, and was counted among those considered guilty. Yet in doing so, he bore what belonged to many and stood in their place. He carried their wrongdoing and made intercession on their behalf.

And though his path led through rejection, suffering, and death, it did not end there. What was entrusted to him was not lost. What the Lord willed was brought to fulfillment through him, and what he carried was not in vain.

In Christ,

A Spiritual Edifice

This morning, I read 1 Peter 2:1-17, and the concept of Jesus’ followers being built into a spiritual edifice grabbed my attention. While this passage is typically translated as “a spiritual house,” I think the word edifice better describes what is happening to us.

I need to explain two points so you can follow my logic. First, what is an edifice? After studying a few dictionaries, it seems a comprehensive best definition is – an impressive structure that is often massive in size. In other words, it isn’t just a house or typical structure. It is something more grandiose.

Second, we need to understand that being a member of Christ’s body is not a metaphorical statement. In baptism, we die and rise with Christ. Col 2:12. In fact, Paul regularly talks about the spiritual life as a life lived “in Christ.” (e.g., Gal 2:16-20). Thus, in some mystical way, we really are living stones being built into a spiritual edifice.

So, why was this phrase an invitation to dialogue with the Holy Spirit this morning? I think it was for more than one reason, but the applicable fruit here is that humans seem to have a deep longing to attain a higher purpose, to find some personal sense of accomplishment, to achieve something that is a legacy we can leave behind, or something along these lines. In its basic form, this longing is not wrong because we were created to seek something greater. The problem is that our fallen nature wants the “something greater” to be about me, the individual. As I said above, that individual died in baptism. The longing that exists within us exists because we were created to quest for God and to find our true meaning and purpose in the great spiritual edifice, the body of Christ.

When I look out at the world, there are many people, me included, who experience a lot of pain trying to make sense of the world, why they were created; why they exist. The reason we have so much pain is that we were meant to share in the greatness of Christ, not to possess something akin to his greatness on our own merit. The more we look to soothe the pain of our existence in worldly things, the more painful this existence will be. The only eternally effective salve for this pain is to allow the Holy Spirit to more and more fully incorporate us into the life of Christ.

Here is where I need to share the good and the bad news. Let’s start with the bad news. The only way to be incorporated into Christ’s body is through suffering. It is through our practices of dying to self and carrying our crosses that we allow the Holy Spirit to heal the interior wounds that cause us to quest after personal greatness.

The good news is that this work is done in Christ. In him, our burden is light. In him, we experience the joy of living as we were created to live. In him is our glory, our peace, and our joy.

My prayer for you today is that you open yourself to the work of the great contractor, the Holy Spirit, and allow him to shape and mold you into this edifice. I pray that you allow your great longing for greatness to be appeased in Christ.

In Christ,

Our Enemies Plunder Us At Will

This morning, I had an interesting encounter with the Living Word. I was praying the Office of Readings (a compilation of scriptural passages plus a reading from a church father, saint, or a church document). I was contemplating the turmoil in the world, and some of the issues going on in the Catholic Church and in the lives of some of my friends. When I read the word “plunder,” something resonated within me. This is typically a signal that God wants to talk. So, I paused for a moment to give him a chance to speak up.

You need to understand that hope has been a pretty steady theme in my recent prayer life. Hope is rooted in a firm belief that God is faithful. It stands firm when the going gets tough. Hope is more than a wish or the possibility of a windfall. It is a certainty that God is who he claims to be, and he will do everything that needs to be done for a person’s eternal salvation. More importantly, our God, who lives out side of space and time, has already done everything that needs to be done. Those of us still living in time and space have to wait to see the fullness of his victory, but it is finished, and we can trust in him.

When I paused in my prayer this morning, I saw an image of the Devil. He had just plundered a village, and was racing away on a horse. He was exuberant! He believed he had won a great victory over the village. He turned to look back at the village in order to delight in his victory. The look on his face went from glee to consternation because the villagers were joyfully praising God and preparing to clean up the mess. They knew that no matter what the Devil did, God had already won. They knew that no matter how many times the Devil came back to plunder, the victory was already won.

Therefore, when you feel like your village has been plundered, and you stand staring at the rubble trying to make sense out of things, stop for a moment and look to where the Devil is racing away on his horse. Watch as he turns to revel in his victory, and remember not just the battle, but the entire war has already been won.

In Him,