ELISHEBA BLOGLaura, Ivonne, and Rick
write about their lives in the Eucharist. |
ELISHEBA BLOGLaura, Ivonne, and Rick
write about their lives in the Eucharist. |
By: Ivonne J. Hernandez
We never know when or how God is going to lift the veil and make Himself known to us… but when He does, the memory is etched forever in our soul. The year was 1998 (as best I can recall). We had just moved to a new city. I was staying home with two young boys and did not know anyone. I saw an announcement on the parish’s bulletin about a prayer group meeting that week, so, desperate for some friends, I decided to go. I walked into the chapel and sat in one of the pews up front. I don’t remember much about the meeting, other than a woman was singing and she had a beautiful voice. I remember I closed my eyes to listen when something started to fill me up. I remember this sense of peace and joy overtaking me, and my mouth, involuntarily, turned into a smile. As I left that night and went back home, I could not wipe the silly grin from my face. When I arrived home, Rick asked me why I was smiling like that, and I don’t remember what I said… I think I tried to explain, but I couldn’t find the words. I just remember feeling like I was on a cloud, and it lasted for about three days. When the feeling wore off, I was determined to find it again, and so my search began. I would spend the next few years searching, seeking, for that fragrance; I knew I was searching for God.
This encounter with the Holy Spirit was a pivotal moment in my relationship with God. Experiencing Love Personified changes you forever. Knowledge, Understanding, Wisdom… The Spirit of Truth, being welcomed, makes Himself known in your soul. A longing, a thirst, a hunger develops and grows. It leads from within. It wakes up the conscience… you become aware of the battle for your soul.
The Holy Spirit is not a bird, is not fire, is not water… He is a Person; He is God.
The Holy Spirit had always been with me, but I did not know Him. It was that same Spirit who led me to that little Chapel, for it was there, by the light of the Tabernacle, where He wanted to reveal to me His glory, so that, when that memory resurfaced, it would have a name, a place, a sound, a smell… it was a tangible experience of the Presence of God.
That evening back in 1998, I entered that little chapel looking for friendship and left filled with the Spirit of God. A group of pilgrims welcomed me, a stranger, and allowed me to find my way home.
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By: Ivonne J. Hernandez I was listening to a Catholic podcast when one of the hosts said something that made me ponder for weeks. The host said, and I might paraphrase, “Our identity is not sinner; our identity is child of God.” My immediate reaction was: “But… aren’t we both?” And now, after praying and pondering for a while, my answer is, “Well…yes and no.”
One of the first things that came to my mind was the Jesus Prayer: ‘Jesus, Son of the Living God, have mercy on me, a sinner.’ This is an ancient prayer attributed to and recommended by the Desert Fathers. It brings to our lips a reality expressed by two words we can not separate. Mercy and Sin.
The Second Sunday of Easter, Divine Mercy Sunday, connects two prayers in my heart: Jesus, Son of the Living God, have mercy on me, a sinner. Jesus, I trust in You. This Feast reminds us to focus not on our sinfulness but on the love of God.
In the heart of God, our failings are burned away in the fire of His love. But one thing can stop us from giving God our failings: a lack of trust. Have you ever shared an area of struggle with someone just to have it used as a weapon against you later? Few things hurt more than when someone violates our trust. We might think every interaction should be preceded with a warning: “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you...” The problem is when we extrapolate our experience with human beings and assume it is the same with God.
Yes, I am a sinner; I sin, but my identity? I AM a BELOVED child of God.
By: Ivonne J. Hernandez (This blog was originally published on 11/14/2020, but I needed this message again. I thought perhaps I’m not the only one...) I don’t know about you, but I’ve been feeling pretty tired lately, more than tired… depleted. Dealing with physical tiredness is something I am used to; in learning to manage my CMT (Charcot-Marie-Tooth), I have come to learn my physical limits and how to work around them. I know I need more rest than most people, and I am ok with that. But the mental and spiritual strain I’ve experienced this year is constantly testing my limits, and I’m having to learn, and accept, what those are. I am having to learn to spend more time in silence, more time in prayer. And while it can be tempting for us to try to separate our physical and mental needs from our spiritual needs, we are wholly human; one area will always affect the other. Our worries make us weary; the solution to this is rest. “Jesus told his disciples a parable about the necessity for them to pray always without becoming weary” (Luke 18:1). What happens when we allow ourselves to become weary? We can start to lose hope, and this is a danger we must avoid. A feeling of weariness lets us know that something is off and that balance needs to be restored. This restoration is a passive kind of work. When our bodies need healing, we must give the body what it needs and let it do its work. This is not easy. Ask anyone who has been on an extended bedrest; sometimes, the hardest thing we are asked to do is rest. But our bodies are not meant to work without ceasing. Our need for rest is clearly displayed in the work of Creation when God rested on the seventh day. “Remember the sabbath day—keep it holy” (Exodus 20:8). It is interesting to note, however, that what God commands us to do on this day of rest is pray. This is also not easy. While rest from our physical or mental labors means taking a break from work, this is different in our life of prayer, where resting is the actual work. The dictionary defines weary as “feeling or showing tiredness, especially as a result of excessive exertion or lack of sleep.” In our prayer, we experience this “excessive exertion” when we try to do the work of God ourselves. Think about it; God would not ask us to do something beyond our ability. He would not ask us to “pray always” if this depended on our limited human capacities. It is when we are faced with our limits that we can surrender to his infiniteness. It is in our poverty that we realize we need a Savior. “In the same way, the Spirit too comes to the aid of our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but the Spirit itself intercedes with inexpressible groanings” (Romans 8:26). The only way we can pray always, without becoming weary, is when we allow ourselves to enter into His rest. “Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart; and you will find rest for yourselves. For my yoke is easy, and my burden light” (Matthew 11-28-30). A different translation says, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” Just like the restoration of the body requires us to give the body food and rest, the restoration of our souls requires us to give the soul its food and rest. This food our soul needs is the Eucharist, Jesus Christ Himself; He is also our place of rest. In this rest, His Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity mix with our body, mind, and spirit… healing the sick and restoring the broken. In this rest, we become truly whole…we become holy. So when you are feeling weary, do not despair. Lift your eyes to Heaven and enter into His rest.
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AuthorsWe are Ivonne J. Hernandez, Rick Hernandez and Laura Worhacz, Lay Associates of the Congregation of the Blessed Sacrament, and brothers and sisters in Christ. |