The Little-Known Merit of Suffering
Can we see it as a blessing
To know what chronic pain feels like?
A pain that runs deep into your bones
And a weakness where your body
Will no longer do what you want it to do?
It sparks the imagination, the empathetic heart…
Were Your nerves completely unhinged, Lord
After Your scourging by Roman soldiers?
Or even after sweating Blood in the Garden?
You were whipped, You were bruised,
You were pricked with thorns, You were psychologically abused
How could anyone treat the Crucifix with disrespect
If they truly knew how much love You poured out?
Not once did You retaliate, nor angels did You call down in retribution
When the women cried for You, You sorrowed more for their and their children’s sake
Struggling to breathe on the Cross, You prayed: “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do”
What great mercy, and what great thirsting for our love
Even today, with every sacrilegious Communion,
You allow Yourself to be a sacrifice—the Friend Who never gives up
Betrayal after betrayal, ingratitude after ingratitude
I’m saddened, Lord, for You to be so misunderstood
From a baby enclosed in Your mother’s womb
To Your burial in the tomb
You placed Your entire life on the line for us
And yet, how many today
Don’t even know You?
If suffering makes me a reflection, then Your reflection I can hope to be…