God Himself is suffering relentlessly on account of me, and I barely even give Him a second glance in His agony…
The other day someone said something a little hurtful to me. My feelings were hurt – but more than that – because I am a weak and miserable soul – that one small word brought with it a whole multitude of past hurts that made me feel completely broken hearted.
Suddenly, one little thing injured my soul so badly that all the myriad of other hurts and neglects and careless words from this person (and any others) welled up inside me and caused me to experience a terrible sadness at my situation and lot in life.
Now, I am sure that there are psychologists and psychiatrists, who are far far more intelligent than me who would be able to explain – in medical terms – what it was that happened to me. But in my own simple non-medical terms, the explanation is plain… I was simply allowing myself to wallow in self-pity. And in theological terms I was judging others as I wished not to be judged.
And I have been thinking about that experience today. You see, the insult was small at best, and my reaction to it was overstated. And yet, those small insults – of which I am so deserving – are literally flung at my Beloved every minute of every day of all the days of the Earth and He never receives an apology that is worthy of merit or note – except through the Sacrifice of His Beloved Son during the Holy Mass.
You see, though I was insulted and therefore very very sad, I had no right to be. After all, I have insulted others countless times. And countless times I have insulted my God as well. So, if anyone deserves a “taste of their own medicine” so to speak, it is certainly me. And yet, that “medicine” tasted so bitter to me and was so painful for me to swallow.
And I have been thinking about that today as I have been thinking about what it is that I have done to my Beloved. T.S. Eliot called God, some “infinitely gentle, infinitely suffering thing” and I think today, I can sense something of the magnitude of the incomprehensible suffering of God. After all, He does nothing to deserve the insults heaped upon Him and yet – even so – we continue to insult Him and upset Him. We do not apologise or atone for those insults in any way that could actually help to atone them. Even the small weak penances we offer, the little sacrifices, the small prayers, are nothing in the face of the irreverence that we show our God.
And when I think about what I have done to Him – and compare it to the nothing that broke my heart the other day – I am quite overcome. For it seems that God Himself is suffering relentlessly on account of me, and I barely even give Him a second glance in His agony…
For with prayer, I stand on Holy Ground where everything is clear. Here. At the Foot of the Cross.
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