Let nothing disturb you, Let nothing frighten you, All things are passing away: God never changes. Patience obtains all things. Whoever has God lacks nothing; God alone suffices. ~ St. Teresa of Avila
The Only Rest ❤ Sacred Heart of Jesus, antique 19th lace holy card – France
I have a shrine within me. Tapers burn there day and night flowers gather round the candles— colors and living flames mingle in extravagance of bloom, celebrating love and chastity.
I meet you here in stillness. My head against your tranquil heart bends in homage, rests in peace; my own heart dares to merge with that unquenchable furnace from which we both derive our reckless gift of self.
This is the living flame of love, this is the source of primal energy, of every urge to impetuous offering of myself. Here, with bowed head and face against your breast I drink the strength I need, and give my all.
St. Francis Borgia, S.J. with St. Teresa of Avila, O.C.D.; art by José Segrelles (1956)
We who walk in the desert of violence, wars, and changes that bewilder and confuse us need an oasis in which to rest and renew ourselves. Mass is the oasis to which the Good Samaritan brings us each day. Every day Christ invites us to the oasis of his heart to be refreshed there by the Wine of his compassion and love.
Love is not an emotion and not a state. It is a Person — it is God himself. He is the food I receive in the Eucharistic Sacrifice. I need him daily because I am a sinner and weak.
True, I am a saved sinner; but one who realizes only too well the words of Christ, “Without me, you can do nothing.” (Jn 15:5) I need him, the living Bread, to love through me.
I need to participate in the daily Sacrifice of the Mass because I am in love with God. I am in love with Jesus Christ. My soul seeks union with God. It cannot rest until it finds him.
Mass is a rendezvous with Christ. Passionately in love with my God, I become one with him at the Eucharistic table.
Daily Mass is a plunging into the inexplicable, incredible mystery of love. It is a reality more real than the air I breathe, than the life I live throughout the day.
What can I bring to the world but him who has given himself to me?
~ A meditation by Catherine De Hueck Doherty
❤
My lover belongs to me and I to him… ~ Sg 2:16
God’s heart is our only true resting place, the oasis to which he calls us ❤ Beloved Lord Jesus, draw us near and near to your Most Sacred Heart! Amen!
As the deer longs for streams of water, so my soul longs for you, O God.
~ Psalm 42, 2
While taking a walk through nature, listening to a beautiful music that “sends one into raptures” or fervently praying, who has not suddenly experienced a strange and overwhelming sense of freedom, a delightful feeling of being liberated from the constraints and limitations of daily life? At that instant, we are released from the grip of time and space, and overcome with a joy and inner peace that nothing could shatter. In those privileged moments, we love everybody, we feel unified, reconciled with ourselves, with others, with the whole universe. It is “the state of grace”, which happens unexpectedly, but which, unfortunately, we cannot recreate at will…
The Springs of Life
It is as if we had come upon a spring, ready to give us water in abundance, only to see it disappear again, shrouded in mystery… Once we have had a glimpse of that other world, we can never forget it and we will always try to find it again.
We will continue to yearn for those blessed states when our soul brushed against eternity, when we sensed the existence of another dimension of our being: immutable, peaceful, unchanging in the midst of fluctuating events. It is the deep, calm waters of a lake that reflect a wild duck in rapid flight without a single ripple on the surface. It is the discovery of “something indefinable” that suddenly and completely takes hold of us. Is not this “little corner of paradise” a reflection of that untarnished happiness enjoyed by our parents in the garden of Eden of our beginnings?
How can we find that center of our being where springs the water of life, where our thirst for happiness and fulfillment can be wholly quenched? How can we reach that secret place whose existence all traditions in the world have sensed and that so many men and women have “realized” in union with God?
Toward the Bliss of the Kingdom
To enter the Kingdom, it is not enough to think about it, just as we cannot quench our thirst merely by thinking of a cup of tea. If our intellect enables us to understand many things, it cannot alone fill the gap between us and these realities. It leaves us standing on the shore, trying to measure the surging waves, yet not allowing us to dive in and splash about in the sea spray.
And so, in his infinite love for us, the Lord does not content himself with our good thoughts for him; he wants us closer and wishes us to unite with his divine Person, just as a fiancé will not be satisfied merely to correspond with his beloved, but longs to marry her and live with her.
The love God has for us is a burning fire, and we are invited to warm ourselves up by its flame; it is the Song of Songs, in which the Lover kisses his bride on the lips: such is the intimate embrace to which God summons us, as of now, on this earth!
The pleasures of this world are but a pale reflection of the profusion of joys that God wishes to share with us; a flash in the pan, they fade away as soon as our passions are assuaged, leaving us frustrated and unfulfilled. Only permanent happiness can satisfy completely our yearning for infinity and eternity, but such happiness is not of this earth, but belongs to the Kingdom of Heaven.
If our mind cannot lead us to it, we must use another instrument, better suited to our quest of unity with God: our heart… Not only the heart that loves or rejects, the seat of feelings and emotions, but the very center of our being, that innermost “place” within ourselves where the divine Presence is revealed. And the path to ever deepening interiority is the prayer of the heart.
Knock and the Door Shall Be Opened
The word prayer is used in many different senses. For some, it is the reading of the Holy Scriptures or a meditation on their meaning; for others, it is communing with oneself… These exercises of Christian life certainly complement each other toward achieving union with God. But what we call the prayer of the heart is a form of contemplation.
In the secret garden of the heart, we no longer pray, we become prayer: the prayer of the heart is “pure prayer”. But we must not think of it as a difficult exercise, only meant for contemplatives. It is surely more difficult to meditate on the Word of God than to contemplate his face. The infant who cannot yet speak gazes at his mother, drinking her presence in, and she delights in returning that loving look that says so much more than mere words!
Likewise, the prayer of the heart is a contemplation of God’s Presence, a moment, heart to heart, when we surrender in the divine sight, in the Lord’s tender presence, just as when he was in Galilea with his disciples: how sweet it was to rest beside Him!
It is as when two lovers gaze into each other’s eyes: all talking ceases, activity is reduced to the simplicity of silent mutual contemplation where words have no place.
But why do we need a method to achieve this? Is it not sufficient to let ourselves be carried by the flow of grace itself? Can we actually learn something in a domain where God is the only captain on board? Why not let ourselves drift alone, rocked by the waves?
It is right that we should contribute to our relationship with the Lord; if indeed he does not impose himself upon us, he always offers his love and secretly calls us: I stand at your door and I knock (Rv 3, 20); Jesus, who is gentle and of humble heart, stands by, ready to receive those who seek him and who knock at the Kingdom’s door: Seek and you shall find. Knock and the door shall be opened (Lk 11, 10).
My Beloved, May I console Your heart? Sadness and weariness are so palpable in this encounter. Is it necessary that You go through all those moments of suffering and anguish for me? The anguish of Your precious heart, O Lord, breaks me. It’s happening all over again…
You are only loving and giving. How can this be happening? I don’t want to fall asleep my Jesus. I want to stay awake, to console Your precious heart, like the angel from heaven did in those dark days.
Would You allow me to be in Your presence now, Lord? I know You need to pray to your Father. For his strength and courage will be upon You. But Lord, I pray, allow me to remain with You now. In silence and in communion. Your tears are overflowing and my garden is wet from those precious tears… Your tears are cleansing and healing everything.
O Beloved Jesus, Thank You for loving me with such infinite and unconditional love. I can’t express in words how much gratitude I feel for You saving me.
Beloved, let us pray together. Let us stay in this silent union of love and trust, That all is in the Father’s heart.
I stay awake. Let us be together. Let us pray together, my Beloved.
When Jesus tells the apostles: “Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while” (Mk 6:31), it is in a way a new call they receive. Not a call to work in the vineyard of the Lord, but a call to rest and a time to recover.
Jesus aims those words even at you. You need space to breathe, times of stillness to be alone with him. He calls you every day to a quiet period of prayer, every week to a day of rest that is also his day, and from time to time to a longer period of retreat. You withdraw from activities not only to gain new strength but also to see your life with new eyes.
Being still with God gives you a chance to ask the essential questions all over again: What is the meaning of my life? Am I walking next to the road God wants to lead me on? Am I walking in the wrong direction?
In the stillness, you gain some distance to what could otherwise swallow you. It becomes easier to see everything in its right perspective. You can see the truth more clearly and see through your illusions. There is a basic insight which can only mature in this stillness before God. If you regularly follow Jesus into solitude and rest, then this basic insight will carry you through all of life’s ups and downs.
This is a little adaptation of the beautiful song by Sophie B. Hawkins. Every time I listen to it, it makes me think of My Beloved….Jesus I love you!
I hope you enjoy it as much as I do…
You are mine, art by Yong-Sung Kim
It felt like spring time on this February morning In a courtyard birds were singing Your praise I’m still recalling things You said to make me feel alright I carried them with me today Now
As I lay me down to sleep This I pray That You will hold me dear Though I’m far away I’ll whisper your Name into the sky And I will wake up happy
I wonder why I feel so high Though I am not above the sorrow Heavy hearted Till You call my name And it sounds like church bells Or the whistle of a train On a summer evening I’ll run to meet You Barefoot, barely breathing
As I lay me down to sleep This I pray That You will hold me dear Though I’m far away I’ll whisper Your name into the sky And I will wake up happy
Oh, Beloved As I lay me down to sleep This I pray That You will hold me dear Though I’m far away I’ll whisper Your name into the sky And I will wake up happy
It’s not too near for me Like a flower I need the rain Though it’s not clear to me Every season has it’s change And I will see You When the sun comes out again
As I lay me down to sleep This I pray That You will hold me dear Though I’m far away I’ll whisper Your name into the sky And I will wake up happy
I wonder why
when the sun comes out again when the sun comes out again…
What am I? And who am I? One who dies a thousand deaths yet stays alive. One who hangs upon a cross not made of wood, but of days and nights that merge and dance their endless dance of pain and of delight.
One who walks shrouded in silence, yet speaks for those who cannot speak, in an endless sea of words that storms, pleads and batters away at hearts of stone—which send my words right back to me: fiery wounding darts of painful ecstasy.
One who is torn apart by the pain of all those who hunger and who thirst, whose shelter is dusty tropic streets, or snowy desert wastes.
I am the millions who seek him, and yet I have found him. How can that be? Why must I live as I were all others? It seems to me that I am torn apart, and that each piece of me is someone else in search of him whom I possess. I must go and walk upon my God, for he is the Way—which means I walk upon Love itself.
But he who walks that way stands still, for how can one walk on feet that are nailed and hands made fast to beam and cross?
The mystery is great. I walk and yet am crucified. I am silent yet I shout. I am filled yet hungry, sheltered yet shelterless, warm yet cold, cold yet hot.
What am I? Who am I?
I am everyone, because I love him: my Lord. I am everyone whom he loves. This is my agony. This is my ecstasy. This is who and what I am.
To be everyone for love of him is to participate in the fullness of his passion.
He said: “I am the Way.” I know this is true because I have walked that Way a thousand yesterdays and walk it still today.