A Deacon and An Imprisoned Priest
Both of us were well-prepared for those meetings by individual silent prayer, and what a difference it made! I think this really stood out to me because though we know each other somewhat, there is still a vast amount that we don't know about each other. During those meetings, few words were needed to convey vastly deep concepts, as we were both really ready to listen, and neither of us is afraid of a little silence. We didn't go into those meetings with a specific agenda, expectations of the other person's thoughts, etc. We just sat down to talk about the issues at hand and let the Holy Spirit lead where He would.
Yet, I noticed that in one particular meeting, in the middle of this series of sessions, when I wasn't fully prepared with prayer, I had become worried about the problem I was facing, and it tilted the dynamic. I found myself using too many words, walking away feeling like I was missing something, and it was entirely my own fault. He reminded me to find that silence again, and then modeled it in the interactions that followed, and when I stopped responding to email a week or so later, he was totally thrilled that I was still in my prayer "cave" and ignoring him, gaining some much needed rest, because it meant that I was thoroughly connected with God once again. I was simply resting in God's presence and leaving the problem in His hands for a while.
When we met again the next time, the conversation was just as helpful as ever, both of us learning a few things in the process. It was a mutual, life-giving discussion and my spiritual life is improved by the process.
But what about human relationships? It wasn't just my relationship with God that improved in that series of meetings. It was also my relationship with humanity, too. I walked away feeling connected, known, and like I was able to deeply internalize his own thoughts. It was a healthy communion of spirits, with the Holy Spirit as guide, working in and through each of us to work through the problem needing addressed. It was fascinating to watch how we would come to the same conclusions about the problem, independently of each other during the silent weeks in between, and not necessarily the answer either of us was looking for. I find myself seeking this same balance in my other human interactions as well, with a little deeper awareness of this process.
As I continue my Lenten journey, I learned something new since then that takes this concept a step further, incorporating my Lenten focus on releasing expectations. I sat with a friend one morning recently, chatting over a cup of coffee. She told me about a book she was reading about a priest named Fr. Walter J. Ciszek, S.J., who had been imprisoned in Russia for about 23 years. The book was entitled, "He Leadeth Me: An Extraordinary Testament of Faith." I've not had a chance yet to read it, but this was her description of what she could remember of it.
During the time of Fr. Ciszek's imprisonment, his prayer life grew in amazing ways. What was most interesting to me in that story is that when he prayed, he wondered why his prayers didn't seem to be working over time and it dawned on him one day that his focus was on himself. His prayers were about "self," much like my own prayers and thoughts became focused on the problem during the middle of that series of meetings. The priest had been praying for what he wanted to happen in his own life and that of others around him that were affecting him, and who could blame him, given the circumstances he faced.
He had been praying for the guards' hearts to be converted and for more food, but his motive wasn't necessarily the right one yet. Over time, though he barely had enough food to survive, he began praying instead for those who did not have as much food as he did. He began to pray for differently for the guards as well. He had originally desired that their hearts be converted so that he would be treated better, not just for God's will (which may have differed from his own) to be done in their lives, for their own sake. He had gone to Russia to show God what he could do for God, instead, God showed the priest what He could do for the priest.
This story was very personal for me. I'm not ready to talk about the whole story yet, but this past fall, I watched someone very close to me, who seemed to be dying, go through a process I was powerless to do anything about, powerless like that priest felt, powerless as I felt processing the other issue with the Deacon. I couldn't for the life of me understand how God could consider taking this person from our lives so soon after losing my mom. While watching this person's condition deteriorate at an increasingly accelerating rate, there seemed to be nothing anyone could or would do to help. He found himself wondering at times why he had been given a vibrant ministry to serve others and then found himself unable to do anything at all anymore. Though he was largely at peace, this question still confounded him at times during his long illness.
I think what that priest learned in that prison is what both of us deeply internalized in our own lives during the past several months. It was only by the power of prayer and the provision of God for the key to his healing, something we couldn't find of our own doing, that this person in our lives is alive and thriving today. We learned in a deeper way the importance of just "being" with God, not "doing" for God. I imagine this has many implications for human relationships, too.
We do not come to serve God on our own terms or to tell Him how others' or our own stories should end. We can't even necessarily make assumptions about the journey any of us will take along the way, there is just so much our human minds can't comprehend in this life. We don't need to. His goodness is already at work in ways that exceed our wildest human expectations, if we are only willing to listen and trust, and to let go of our earthly expectations, and simply enjoy the relationship, even in the midst of difficulty.
As I turn my thoughts back to my relationship with God during this Lent, I am feeling a similar challenge, in letting go of expectations, to also consider why I pray. What expectations, even unconscious, are in my own heart? And how am I approaching Jesus each day? Do I ask Him to bless my own plans, or do I ask Him what He thinks about something and wait for His leading? Am I looking just for things to get done in life or to truly abide in a friendship with Jesus, just for the sake of the relationship alone?
I have long been fascinated with Carmelite spirituality, which simply sees prayer as friendship with God. As I have grown in prayer over the years, I have also learned that to be a friend of Jesus also means to get to know Him as He is through prayer and Scripture, not as the world may say that He is. Good friendships are made up of mutual listening and respect, slowly building trust as we learn each other's character, and of listening to my friend first-hand, not just the things others say about them. A human friendship wouldn't get very far if I spent all my time talking, telling them what I expect, and focusing just on myself and my own thoughts about things. Jesus is no different.
So, how does your own relationship with Him look at present? Do you find the idea of friendship with God easy to relate to or difficult in some way? Do you find your relationship one-sided in any way, whether you do all the talking or fear to talk to Him at all? He does not require us to come to Him already knowing how to be a great "friend." He will gladly make up for our lack. All He asks is for our simple consent and cooperation, and He delights to fill in the gaps. Will you consider opening your own heart to Him today?
Peace be with you.
"For God alone my soul waits in silence;
for my hope is from him.
He alone is my rock and my salvation,
my fortress; I shall not be shaken."
- Psalm 62:5,6 New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition
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