ELISHEBA BLOGLaura, Ivonne, and Rick share their experiences and reflections on living a life centered on the Eucharist.
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ELISHEBA BLOGLaura, Ivonne, and Rick share their experiences and reflections on living a life centered on the Eucharist.
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“Take up your cross…” “Offer it up…” What comes to mind when we hear these words? Do we have a correct understanding of the meaning of the cross? Or do we use this as an excuse, as justification for our lack of action in the face of injustice? Do we become victims, letting the devil use these words against us? The enemy will take anything, everything, twist it, and use it against us. When the devil tempted Jesus in the desert, he used scripture (cf. Matthew 4:1-11). We should not be surprised when he tries to twist God’s Word against us. Our defense then is to know God so deeply that we will not fall for the deception. A mom was quizzing her little girl. She asked her, “What would you do if a stranger comes up to you saying, ‘I am your mom’s friend. She called me to say she couldn’t pick you up today and asked me to bring you home.’” The girl said, “No. You are lying, my mom only has two friends, and you are not one of them.”
The devil will take one piece of scripture, take it out of context, and try to use it to divide us, to isolate us, to hurt us. So, when Jesus says to his disciples, “Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me” (Matthew 16:24), it must be taken within the context of who Jesus is, and of who we are. This is the same Jesus who said, “A thief comes only to steal and slaughter and destroy; I came so that they might have life and have it more abundantly” (John 10:10). “I am the way and the truth and the life” (John 14:6). So, if we are to take up our cross, we must first learn to identify it. We do not want to mistake the attacks of the enemy for a cross. A priest once told me that when we do this, we end up giving the devil a “piggyback ride” and bringing him home with us. We feel powerless and victimized, which leads to resentment and a lessening of love. No, this is the time to put on the armor of God, to remember his promises, and to stand in the truth of our dignity as children of God (cf. Ephesians 6:13). What do we see when we look at Jesus on the Cross? We see sacrificial love.
When those around us are suffering, and we choose to help carry their burdens, that is a cross. Every day, we choose to carry our cross when loving those around us costs us. With love, we walk the way of the cross… this is the way of love.
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Sitting in Church, I look up at Christ on the Cross and ask, “Lord, you did not go out looking for pain and suffering. Yet, it was written that you would suffer, and in order to fulfill your mission of love and mercy you accepted this willingly. Were you tired, stretched out thin? Was your heart beating furiously? Were your lungs struggling to keep you alive? Or was your heart racing because of your immense love? Were you thinking about each of us, when battling to complete your mission? Oh, but how profoundly human were you, and how divine was your love!” Jesus’ Cross was willingly accepted out of obedience to the Father, but most relevantly to us, because of His perfect love for us.
After staring at the Cross over the altar, I close my eyes and still see its image in relief, almost like a photographic negative. I marvel at how the light continues to define the Cross, despite the darkness, yet, I realize that if I keep my eyes closed intentionally, the image carved by the light gradually fades. This illustrates a profound metaphor, the light of Christ can penetrate the darkness, even when we close our eyes, but we must open our eyes to ensure it does not fade. We must willingly let in the light. The Cross, once an instrument of torture, became the means of our salvation, and for us, a beacon of hope.
The suffering of Christ in His Passion holds infinite redemptive value because it stems from His infinite love. Christ embraced His suffering for the forgiveness of our sins—such is His love for us. Our sufferings, too, hold value when offered with love. Suffering without conscious love is merely suffering, for the redemptive value of our suffering comes from our offering of it with love, transforming it into a cross akin to Christ’s.
Carrying our crosses helps us acknowledge God’s sovereignty, express gratitude for Christ’s sacrifice, and contribute to bringing His mercy to the world.
When looking at the Cross of Christ, let us recognize that His suffering was offered for our good, our redemption, and our forgiveness. Understanding this allows us to view the pain that comes our way as purposeful. We do not go out looking for pain and suffering, but when they invariably find their way into our lives, let us remember that by uniting our suffering with His, we offer reparation for those we love and even for those we fail to love. The redemptive value of our suffering lies in our choice to embrace it as purposeful. This realization underscores that our suffering can be a gift. Through suffering, we can gain a deeper understanding of those who are truly poor, in pain, sick, lonely, jailed, and disheartened. By accepting our suffering and uniting it with Christ’s, we help lighten the load of the Cross. Our embracing faith, encourages and uplifts one another, guiding us towards Heaven. When we suffer with Christ, it is not in vain but purposeful, encouraging, courageous, virtuous, and life-giving.
Although most of us come into this world alone and will leave it alone, the journey is richer when shared. As we work towards our final union with Christ, let us embrace and celebrate our shared lives—the good and the bad, the joyous, and the sorrowful—knowing that in all these experiences, we walk with Christ. Let us help each other carry our crosses.
Let us pray: Lord, thank you for your infinite love for us. We give you thanks for the gift of your Cross. Help us this day, and every day, to pick up our own crosses and with great love, follow You. Amen.
Dearest Eucharist Family, I have been sleeping on a cot in my husband’s ICU room (in New York City) for four weeks. I was thinking about home, my home in Florida, and how much I miss being in it, living. Many loved ones have asked me to take a break from the hospital; there will be time for that. For now, home is truly where your heart is. Our souls find their rest in God alone.
And in God, we find the grace to love, and in that love is our home, our resting place. In my obedience to the sacrament of marriage, God’s presence is alive and well. The grace to endure my husband being intubated for 12 days at death’s door has been overwhelming. I have been blessed to be at daily Mass, to receive my LORD and my GOD. My spiritual father, Saint Peter Julian Eymard, proclaimed the greatest grace of his life was receiving Holy Communion. I unite with those sentiments; I can only survive and be sustained in the Cross of Christ by the grace of the Eucharist. Ultimately our eternal home will be found in obedience to Christ and our union to the Crucifixion, Christ’s Passion, Death, and Rising.
My husband was in septic shock; he arrived at the hospital dying. Three top doctors, on separate occasions, professed that my husband’s survival thus far is a miracle. There were three times during this hospital stay I thought I had lost my husband. Moments of our lives, of the past 36 years especially, flashed through my mind’s eye. As I reflected it did not seem like enough time... Christ gave me an echo one morning during holy Mass... YOU WILL SEE GREATER MIRACLES THAN THESE...
As I prayed, I knew in my heart Ray would be healed. The intercession of prayer from all the faithful formed a bond of grace that reached to the heavens and a miracle was granted. My husband’s healing was found in God’s holy will; some healed, some not, trust in all that happened came through prayer. My husband has an open wound. In my prayer, the open wound of the world is before me. Our broken humanity is revealed greater in the heart of the city. Compassion rises as we identify with the fragility of life and all the destruction that causes such brokenness. There is a common thread of striving to be what we may think we should be. When we are at home in the LORD’s love, at home in our service to one another, there is a miracle of grace at every level we should expect. Jesus Christ is with us. The Crosses of life are beheld in God’s love. We are made perfect in the security of God’s love in our home, our souls. Jesus came to teach us the way to salvation. We are handed a Cross and can either walk with it or let it go... Saint Peter teaches us to whom shall we go. The choices we make have a great effect on our lives. In the Eucharist, we are more attentive to the call to follow the way of the Cross. The pathway to God’s holy will is filled with meeting people on the way. Since my husband has been hospitalized, we have met so many medical professionals, extraordinary in their work of medical advancement, doctors, nurses, and hospital staff. We have been blessed to form new relationships and share our love for JESUS, and mostly to pray for all whom we encounter. A Hail Mary flowing through my mind for each soul. God has a purpose for us descending to pain and struggles. We are blessed to offer up now what will purify us for all eternity. This action has allowed some purpose for my husband’s current unexpected health issues.
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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. |