RETURNING TO THE WELL
Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord, whose hope is the Lord.
He is like a tree planted beside the waters that stretches out its roots to the stream:
It fears not the heat when it comes, its leaves stay green;
In the year of drought, it shows no distress, but still bears fruit. - Jeremiah 17:5-10
The imagery of the withered bush in the desert versus the tree planted by the water in today’s reading calls me to return to the well of God’s love and embrace to receive true peace, strength, and nourishment. As I wait for my father’s test results to confirm whether he has prostate cancer, a veil of helplessness falls upon me. For the first time in his life, my father is staring at the reality of death, and I can see it on his face. Part of me does not want to accept it or believe it. It’s as if I am living in the gap between what I am taught and what I can practice in my own life, at least as much as I want to do. I know too well my tendency to withdraw from conflict and dive into research. Yet, I have learned from past experiences that by doing so, I am only trying to escape from my pain and seeking constancy in words and ideas. God calls me to give my entire heart when it is most difficult - my sadness, anger, and fear of possibly losing my gentle, kind, and Joseph-like father in my life.
Reflecting on today’s readings, I am challenged to examine where I am placing my trust. Am I relying on my strength and abilities, or am I genuinely putting my hope and faith in God? As I have witnessed my father go through countless doctor appointments, lose his eyesight, and experience more ailments each day, my heart feels discouraged, frustrated, and hopeless. My mind knows how to respond, yet my soul needs the most convincing to shift my gaze and accept the complexity, suffering, and paradox at the heart of the spiritual journey to grow and hopefully change me as I live into it. It has not been easy to relinquish control and place my trust in something I cannot see, but I have found that a sense of calm comes over me when I do. It means being willing to slow down and find creative ways to move beyond fight or flight mode, asking God for help, and focusing on the present moment and the love surrounding me. In this contemplative space, I can stop the war with what is happening within the situation and just be present with what is. It means finding the thread that keeps me grounded in the midst of chaos and vacillation of life.
Lord, as I walk into this unknown abyss, help me turn to you to lead me toward the still waters and green pastures I desperately need. Please grant me the strength and courage to trust.
Tam Lontok