Waves

I was praying the Rosary after Holy Mass this morning. I was looking upwards towards the painting of the Divine Mercy on the right side of the church, then my gaze shifting to the crucifix in the sanctuary. Mid-chain of softly droning Hail Marys, my eyes settled on Our Lord crucified. And a thought came to me: “Let me suffer, Lord.” In my own voice, I myself, apart from my operating mind, declared this desire. While I continued to chant, waves of praise to Our Lady on the surface of the ocean, somewhat below I was stunned at the perverse wish that had come out of me – affronting my every grounding and sane wish for healing and function in the world and service to the Church militant as a dedicated, physically normal soldier. But from far deeper below, my soul had lifted itself like a cloud of incense out past the waves to Our Lord’s wounded body. I did not interrupt my Rosary, continued praying. But I wondered what kind of desire this was. It disturbed me slightly – but I’d been put through quite enough paces accepting, allowing, welcoming, actively practicing through suffering in my life to not be thrown off axis by this. I saw it. I recognized it. I admitted the cloud passing. I wondered at the meaning of it. Was this indeed Our Lord’s desire for me, to use me as a victim soul, taking on the pain and offenses of the world, offering them up as reparations for the swords and lances piercing Our Lord, as consolation for Him, as relief for those helpless persecuted innocents everywhere with no recourse? Had my soul been primed and now finally ready to accept and rejoice in this mission – and now joyfully sing it to Him? I trembled just a little inside me. I almost didn’t notice it. And I only continued praying.

Lord, help me.

Tell me what you want from me. And help me.