You, my dear reader, might think
that when life-changing stuff like this happens
that it would be so easy to meet God in prayer on retreat,
but it was not.
I struggled to stay present. 
A couple of times I fell asleep.
Other times what I reported to my spiritual director
felt flat.
But in one or two of those prayers each day
there were moments I will never forget.

There was the moment when you let go and breathed your last.  
I held your lifeless body
so grateful you were no longer in pain.

There was the moment I was with Cleopas on the road to Emmaus,
and your death really through him for a loop.
I thought about my doubts about you
when you seem so powerless and distant,
and a part of me wonders if I’ve done it all wrong.
Then a stranger came along and explained 
that it’s all good.
It’s just different from what I thought it would be,
and I could go on believing what I hoped from the bottom of my heart
is true–
that you are good, you are love,
and you will never leave us to face our perils alone. 
The joy of that hope returning felt like a meteor rising in me,
and that was before you broke the bread and revealed that stranger was you! 

Then there was the moment, you asked me, “Who do you say that I am?”
And I said, “Love incarnate, the one who loves us more than life itself.
You are eternally God, fully human and divine.
You are the one who never gives up on us, is never disappointed in us,
never humiliates or shames us.
You are compassionate and full of loving-kindness.
You are misunderstood, misused, judged, blamed and often dismissed.
You allow us to suffer and are with us in it. 
You allow death and are often silent.
You open our eyes to suffering and help us to relieve it.
You are my Lord, my Saviour, my Friend.
You are loved.”

And that’s when Ignatius’ prayer came to me.
“Take and receive my life.
All I am and have are yours.
Give me only your love and the grace to love you in return.”

Something had changed. 
I felt I could trust you.
There wasn’t going to be a bait and switch.
Now that I surrendered my life to you,
you weren’t going to force me into a mould or work the life out of me.
I could trust that you only want to keep loving me
and freeing me to be the I AM that I am.

Something else had changed.
I had avoided thinking about my sin
because if I did I might discover that my critical self was in cahoots with you,
and I should know how awful I am.
But now I want to see my sin so I can make more room for love.
I want to see the suffering I have caused others or myself
so I can, with your help, make a different choice.

I received the grace I asked for:
to fall in love with you and be with you.
Now I ask for the grace to go with you where you always go,
into suffering.
Let me be indifferent to getting what I want,
all the things I own, how my life will unfold,
my health, the weather and my moods.
But let me not be indifferent to suffering.
Let me be with you there
where your kingdom is coming. 

Take, Lord, and receive all my liberty,
my memory, my understanding,
and my entire will,
All I have and call my own.

You have given all to me.
To you, Lord, I return it.

Everything is yours; do with it what you will.
Give me only your love and your grace,
that is enough for me.

Saint Ignatius of Loyola, 1491-1556

∗ ∗ ∗

Love Mischief for the World

Jesus talked about you in one of my prayers. We sat down to rest after the loaves and fishes were multiplied and looked at the thousands of men, women and children that had been fed. I imagined them as all the people who read my blog, who attend my church, who live in my neighbourhood, as well as my family and friends. “I know each of them,” Jesus said with such love in his eyes. “I know their stories and am with them too.”

What I received in these moments on my retreat–a felt experience of the fierce depth of God’s love–is for you too. So, go ahead and ask. Ask God to tell you what you need to hear and know in the depth of your heart.

What love mischief are you and God doing for the world?
Let me know and I will include it in an upcoming post.

Credits and References:
“The Road to Emmaus” Fritz von Uhde (1891), Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
Bible references: Luke 24:13-35; Mark 8:27-30, Mark 6:34-44
The phrase “face our perils alone” is from a quote in Thoma Merton’s Thoughts in Solitude. “Therefore will I trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.”
The reference to indifference is from Ignatius’ Principle and Foundation; the reference to not being indifferent is from Mondy Williams, The Gift of Spiritual Intimacy, the chapter on the Three Degrees of Humility p.156.
“Jesus Walking on Water” by Daniel of Uranc 1433. Matenadaran, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
“Loaves and Fishes” stained glass window in St. James the Greater Catholic Church in Concord, North Carolina Nheyob, CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0, via Wikimedia Commons

© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2023.
The unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used provided there is a link to the original content and credit is given as follows: © Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013-2023.  http://www.estherhizsa.com