BLESSED ARE THOSE WHO STRUGGLE AND STUMBLE
“In the days when Christ was in the flesh, he offered prayers and supplications with loud cries and tears to the one who was able to save him from death, and he was heard because of his reverence.” - Hebrews 5:7
In today’s readings, particularly the Gospel, we journey with Christ through His Passion and Death. I remember learning about Good Friday when I began my own conversion to the Catholic Church. I wondered, “What is ‘good’ about suffering?”
I think we all ask this when we go through trials and tribulations. In my own life, especially this Lenten season, I’ve been battling an anxiety disorder. It has certainly felt like the dry and desolate desert. Everyone around me seemed to be having a grace-filled Lent, and I was having a Lent filled with anxiety attacks. I spiraled down a dark tunnel of defeat, discouragement, and disappointment constantly worrying if I was too much and not enough.
One day while I was sitting in my parish before Mass, I just let myself sob. I felt like God was trying to hurt me. I wondered if He was abandoning me. And I wondered if He was angry with me for being angry at Him. The weight of the world and the weight of the Cross seemed to crush me. My anxiety attacks were my Cross, and it was a heavy one. “God, will I ever catch a break? I can’t even catch my breath.”
When I gazed at the crucifix on the altar, I had no choice but to surrender my broken heart and broken spirit. In our suffering, it’s an act of faith to wrestle with God and use Him as a punching bag. It takes courage to be fully human in all of its rawness and realness. We don’t need to hide behind polite spirituality. Our Lord values honest struggle so much.
It’s okay to struggle. And it’s okay to stumble. He shows us it’s okay to cry out in anguish and agony. He shows us is it’s okay to fall down, especially when the Cross gets too much to bear. He shows us it’s okay to feel forsaken and forgotten. He shows us it’s okay to embrace the fullness of our humanity and the human experience. Jesus wasn’t afraid to stumble and struggle. And he struggles and stumbles with us. He brought every moment of weakness and weariness to His Father, and so should we.
As I came to God in all of my messiness and all of life’s messiness, I was reminded of the power and purpose in our Crosses. I realized that all my pangs were growing pains.
There is a lot of suffering in our world, in our lives, and in our hearts. But we must not lost hope in our suffering. Our burdens aren’t just our burdens. When we suffer, we never suffer alone. And we grow in empathy and compassion when we suffer both with and for each another. When we unite our suffering and offer it up, we come to experience the fullness of our humanity and the holiness that can be found in it. We can suffer with love, and this is our greatest calling.
Our heads and hearts may be racing with unpleasant thoughts and emotions, but they are a holy land. Jesus felt it all, and we can feel it all, too. We don’t have to face any heaviness and hardness by ourselves.
Our suffering does not lack meaning. It is not meant to harden us. It is meant to soften and stretch us. And it is meant to probe and pull us closer to Christ and to each another. Our suffering is actually a sign that we are incredibly close to Jesus. And it is a reminder of the purpose and power of the Crosses we carry. Don’t be afraid of the Cross. The Way of the Cross is our way to holiness.
On this Good Friday and always, may we draw strength from the Cross and from each other.
Jess Meeth