Joy and Hope in Troubled Times — Transfigured Heart

I see a level of anxiety and discouragement in general and among my fellow Christians such as never before. This is even among lifelong, deeply committed Christians. It brings to mind, disturbingly, Jesus’s prophecy of the apocalyptic crisis, “which will lead astray, if possible, even the elect” (Mt 24:24, RSVCE). (At the same time, there are many exciting signs of renewal and revival in the Body of Christ, but these are not the focus of this post.) These are indeed troubled times. We are seeing a unique, unprecedented, worldwide conjunction of events:

a worldwide pandemic;
serious calls by powerful corporate, national and even Catholic church leaders for a one world government, (in the name of managing pandemics, saving the natural environment, and battling overpopulation);
the capacity for global monitoring and collection of data about our personal information and location;
an escalating movement toward hard or soft totalitarianism;
the possibility of a cashless economy;
open warfare against the unborn, the family, gender, and Christian, especially Catholic belief.

As Christians, we’re called to read the signs of the times. It’s not my place or calling to determine whether we are entering the final crisis, the Passover of the Church. But if not, to use Catholic evangelist Ralph Martin’s words, “we are in a very convincing dress rehearsal for it.”

Part of the cloud of anxiety over the world springs from how difficult it is even to know what is truly going on. Driving in dense fog is nerve-wracking - and that’s where most of us feel we are. A premier temptation in all of this is to consume more media. If I know what’s going on or what seems to be coming, this gives me a sense of control. Unfortunately, with growing censorship and bias, it’s becoming increasingly difficult to find reliable media sources. And most of the media peddle anxiety, because anxiety sells. Our fallen nature thrives on watching train wrecks in other people’s lives - the “I’m glad that’s not me” or “Oo, that could be me” factor.

A second, related temptation is to focus on legal or political solutions, or secular messiahs, to the point of losing our focus on Jesus as the solution. Not that Christians should abandon the political arena or cease fighting for our constitutional rights - but ultimately, “the battle belongs to the Lord” (Prov 21:31).

A third, more deadly temptation, is to wall up our hearts by getting cynical, negative, bitter, sarcastic, discouraged, and hopeless. We start to hate the sin, not the sinner. We forget that

we are not contending against flesh and blood, but against the principalities, against the powers, against the world rulers of this present darkness, against the spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places. (Eph 6:12, RSVCE)

But our call isn’t, like the Pharisee, to thank God that we aren’t like other men (Lk 18:11), or to cast stones while claiming sinlessness for ourselves. We need to rescue the prisoner and bring people from darkness into light, as we ourselves have been rescued and saved.

Cynicism pretends to protect my heart from hurt. It’s a way to avoid feeling too much about what I can’t control. I was recently struck by how destructive that can be. We had hosted a dinner at our home, and a friend and I were making cynical, sarcastic jokes about the silence of many of the bishops and the scandals in the Church. Another guest, a beautiful, sensitive girl, suddenly began to cry. It stopped me in my tracks. Shouldn’t we all be weeping? Shouldn’t we all be struck to the heart? Jesus did not mock Jerusalem when he foresaw its destruction: he wept. His heart was broken that the city would not let itself be loved and rescued.

The fruit of overconsumption of the media, looking for purely political solutions, and caving into cynicism is desolation, in Ignatian terms. Check how you feel after a strong dose of the news or after going on a cynical tirade. I’ll bet it’s restless dissatisfaction, a sense of distance from God, distaste for spiritual things. The fruit are hatred, discouragement, unrest, and irritability. These come from the flesh. They are precisely opposite of the fruit of the Spirit: “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control” (Gal 5:22-23a, RSVCE).

Admittedly, it’s perilously easy to find issues to be angry and cynical about. As a psychologist, I am the last to simply say, “Stop it!” or “Don’t feel that way!” Our distress is understandable. We are indeed in very difficult times. It’s not just ourselves, but our children, siblings, parents and loved ones we’re concerned about. Millions of babies are being slaughtered. Souls are being lost. Children and teens and adults are being misled. Christians - and all of those who don’t accept the woke narrative - are, or shortly will be, actively persecuted.

But discouragement and cynicism can’t be the final word. We need to feel, to process, to grieve, to vent - and ultimately, to move on. How do we do that?

At the end of January, our pastor and our son’s pastor both preached inspiring homilies about standing fast and living in truth and love no matter what’s coming. Amen! That Sunday evening, as is our custom, my wife Mary and I set aside special time to pray together and see how the Lord seemed to be leading us. As we prayed that evening, and entered into some worship and praise, I felt that there was yet MORE, good as the homilies were. God calls us not just to endure and be faithful, but to THRIVE, no matter what comes.

As we prayed and worshipped, the Lord was present with great sweetness and power, and he spoke to our hearts about the cynicism and negativity. Independently of one another, Mary and I felt a call to REPENT:

for me, to repent of my negativity, critical spirit, sarcasm, and judgment of political and especially Church leaders
for Mary, to repent of focusing on the storm and her own human weakness, rather than the Lord

We also felt a call to JOY. I recalled the verse, and a couple of songs based on the verse, “the joy of the Lord is your strength” (Neh 8:10b, RSVCE). When I first came to know Jesus as my Lord and was baptized in the Holy Spirit, what drew me to seek him in the first place was how happy those who knew him clearly were. I tasted how sweet and good he is. He was so clearly at work in miraculous ways. During our prayer that Sunday evening, the Lord reminded me that he’s the same Lord now. The God who had brought us safely through trial after trial, rescuing , would continue to do so in whatever tribulations come.

Only then did we remember that the theme of that Sunday’s Gospel was the start of Jesus’s public ministry. Jesus’s first recorded words in Mark are, “Repent and believe the good news!” (NIV). As persecution looms, I haven’t been focused on the “good news” that Jesus is Lord. I’ve been focused on, “Torture? Prison? What if they do things to my fingernails? If I have to be martyred, Lord, I’m putting in an order now for being shot or beheaded - quickly!”

But whatever comes, he’s the same Lord. He will supply all that we need exactly as we need it. He will enable us not just to endure, but to joyfully endure. He will give exactly the grace we need, because he is good. He is sweet. He loves us. He knows what we can and can’t take. He is good.

During our prayer, I recalled what I’d just read in the 16th century St. Catherine of Genoa’s Treatise on Purgatory. The Treatise is a summary of her private revelations during mystical experiences. Per Catherine, the souls in purgatory suffer tremendously. But their wills are completely aligned with God’s. They’ve already said their final “Yes”. They are joyful in their sufferings, because they only want what He wants. They wouldn’t cut it short a moment if it were against God’s will.

The Vietnamese St. Paul Le-Bao-Tinh, gave this inspiring testimony before his martyrdom in 1843:

I, Paul, in chains for the name of Christ, wish to relate to you the trials besetting me daily, in order that you may be inflamed with love for God and join with me in his praises, for his mercy is for ever. The prison here is a true image of everlasting hell: to cruel tortures of every kind—shackles, iron chains, manacles—are added hatred, vengeance, calumnies, obscene speech, quarrels, evil acts, swearing, curses, as well as anguish and grief. But the God who once freed the three children from the fiery furnace is with me always; he has delivered me from these tribulations and made them sweet, for his mercy is for ever.
In the midst of these torments, which usually terrify others, I am, by the grace of God, full of joy and gladness, because I am not alone—Christ is with me.
Our master bears the whole weight of the cross, leaving me only the tiniest, last bit. He is not a mere onlooker in my struggle, but a contestant and the victor and champion in the whole battle. Therefore upon his head is placed the crown of victory, and his members also share in his glory.

Whatever suffering comes, let us seek the same grace - to find in God’s will all of our joy, to want only what He wants, and to count ourselves blessed to suffer for the sake of the Name. Let us say with St. Thérèse of Lisieux, “I am always content with whatever He sends me. I love all He does.”

If we just continue to say “Yes” to Jesus, to cooperate with the grace that He infinitely wants to give us, then the worst possible outcome of whatever happens to us is eternal bliss - life forever in ecstatic union with the Blessed Trinity, the host of Heaven, and the glorious communion of saints! It most literally doesn’t get any better than this. There is no down side. Repent, and believe in the Good News. It is really that good! How can we not rejoice? Praised be Jesus Christ, now and forever!