Author: Jennifer Lindner

Hope in the Lord

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“Be strong, let your heart take courage,

all who hope in the Lord” (Ps 31).

Where are you feeling the call to courage today? Are you fearful? Worried? Wondering which way to turn?

Sometimes, all we know is that we’re suffering where we are. We know the cause of the stress; we know where it comes from. But what to do? The path forward isn’t clear. We’re not sure whom to ask for help. Maybe we’ve already asked and the direction is unclear.

This is when we surrender and go to God. We leave our troubles at the foot of the Cross. We ask Jesus to take and transform them.

We find strength not in ourselves, but rather in His presence in our hearts. The Lord is enough. Our hope in Him, our confidence in His will, invite our hearts to expand and stretch so that He can fill us with courage.

Like muscles that are worked in physical trial, like metal purified in the refiner’s fire, like the spirit that is disciplined in fasting, we are made strong in our willingness to surrender completely to God.

Hope in the Lord will lead to courage, and courage will lead to strength.

Lenten Fasting and Communion

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Now that we have embarked on our Lenten fasts and penances, hopefully we are continuing to thoughtfully consider how and why we are practicing them. Lent isn’t just the time of year to once again give up chocolate or snacking. Reading more scripture and getting to Mass more regularly are good practices, but Lent isn’t just about that either. Lent is the season to empty ourselves, even of apparent goods, to make room for the greatest good, God. We cannot fill ourselves more completely with the Holy Spirit unless we first empty ourselves and let go of thoughts and practices that divert our attention from Him. Ultimately, we fast, pray, and give alms not for ourselves or anything we hope to gain, but rather so that we can encounter God more intimately. And when we do, when we call on Him, we trust He will be ever closer and more present to us.

Isaiah tells us God is displeased with His people, because they fast in an attempt to gain His favor. They “abandon the law” (58:2) and then demand God’s attention. They make a show of their penance and are irritated when God seems to ignore them. “Why do we fast,” they cry, “and you do not see it? Afflict ourselves, and you take no note of it” (58:3)?

God is angry because He understands the people’s intentions. They are not being selfless; they are “quarreling and fighting” (Is 58:4). “You carry out your own pursuits” (Is 58:3), God declares, in ways that are prideful and vainglorious.

God then tells us what he desires. The “fasting that I wish” (Is 58:6), He explains, is based not on what we give up or how hungry we look or how hard we’re trying. Rather, God wishes for us to sacrifice by serving others. We are to treat people justly, “free the oppressed,” feed the hungry, “shelter the homeless,” and “clothe the naked,” so as to ultimately “not [turn] your back on your own” (Is 58:7).

God desires our service, sacrifice, and emptying of ourselves for others. This is what draws us to Him; this is what He will reward. God tells us when we are rightly ordered in our sacrifice, when we are merciful to others, He will come to our assistance. Our “light shall break forth” (Is 58:8). Our “wound shall be quickly healed” (Is 58:8). We shall be “vindicated,” and the Lord will protect us and shore our efforts with His “glory” (Is 58:8).

This, then, is the invitation of Lent. In our emptying and sacrificing and serving, we are making room not only for a more intimate encounter with God, but also charitable encounters with our brothers and sisters along the way. As Sister Miriam James Heidland tells us, “The whole of the Lenten journey is [ordered towards] communion” (WOF, Refusal to Grasp). It is our willingness to see Christ in the other and to be Christ to him that draws us to the heart of the Father. And this, after all, is what St. Augustine tells us our restless hearts most desire–to rest in Him.

May we discover God’s mercy and consolation this Lent, trusting that our fasts and sacrifices will be met with His scandalously abundant gratuitous love. It should be the greatest desire of our hearts, worn and bruised and stretched wide open, to hear Him say to us, “Then you shall call, and the LORD will answer, you shall cry for help, and he will say: Here I am!” (Is 58:9).

Freedom in God

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“Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.” 

(2 Cor 3:17)

Suffering is inevitable, but sometimes it can be made worse by another pervasive feeling: stuckness. The source of our suffering can cause us to feel heavy or worried or scared. But feeling stuck can lead us to feel even more anxiety or sadness. We might even feel emotionally or spiritually paralyzed. Suffering, it seems, steals our freedom; we cannot extricate ourselves from our circumstances, nor do we feel like we can choose how to think or move forward. What if, however, we could look at our suffering in a different way? What if we could encounter God in the stuckness? We know that wherever God is, so also is there freedom, and He wants us to find it.  

What does it feel like when we’re stuck in our suffering? Maybe we ask, “How can this be happening?” Or we demand, “Why, Lord?” The Psalms reflect the hopelessness we feel. “I am utterly spent and crushed; I grown because of the tumult of my heart” (Ps 38:8). Fatigue and grief rob us of our ability to think and move freely. “My heart throbs, my strength fails me; and the light of my eyes—it also has gone from me” (Ps 38:10).

Turning to the Lord, though, even just enough to obtain a little space from our pain, we remember He is with us. “When the cares of my heart are many, your consolations cheer my soul” (Ps 94:19). In crying out to God, we trust He will help us. Like the Canaanite woman, we cry, “Lord, help me” (Matt 15:25), and we wait in hope for His answer, “[G]reat is your faith! Let it be done for you as you desire” (15:28). 

God’s closeness strengthens us, and our trust in Him loosens our spiritual paralysis. We might not feel entirely free, but we no longer feel alone. The Lord unlocks the doors to our hearts. “I sought the LORD, and he answered me, and delivered me from all my fears” (Ps 34:4). He descends into our spiritual prisons and liberates us. “The angel of the LORD encamps around those who fear him, and delivers them” (Ps 34:7). 

Ultimately, God seeks to encounter us in the midst of our suffering so He can set us free. Sometimes we cry out to Jesus like the blind men: “Have mercy on us, Son of David” (Matt 9:27). Other times, Jesus finds us, as when he confronts the long-suffering man at the Sheep Gate: “Do you want to be healed?” (Jn 5:6). God repeatedly invites us to understand how we are most free not apart from suffering, but rather when we discover He is our refuge in the storm of our pain. It is there, during our times of need, that God calls us closest to Himself. As Paul tells us, “For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities; for when I am weak, then I am strong” (2 Cor 12:10). “Where the spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom,” because God is Truth, and wherever there is Truth, there too will we find freedom. 

Where might you be feeling stuck or paralyzed today? What is pressing on your heart right now? Where, with God’s help, could you notice the freedom He is inviting you to experience? Where is He asking you to look for it? Prayer? Quiet? Beauty? Laughter? Rest? Follow Him. He will meet you there.

Living the Beatitudes and Remembering Charlie Kirk

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“Raising His eyes toward His disciples Jesus said: ‘Blessed are you who are poor, for the Kingdom of God is yours. Blessed are you who are now hungry, for you will be satisfied. Blessed are you who are now weeping, for you will laugh. Blessed are you when people hate you, and when they exclude and insult you, and denounce your name as evil on account of the Son of Man….But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation. But woe to you who are filled now, for you will be hungry. Woe to you who laugh now, for you will grieve and weep. Woe to you when all speak well of you, for their ancestors treated the false prophets in this way'” (Luke 6:20-26).

Because I don’t believe in coincidences, but rather in Providence, it is not surprising that this gospel from Luke is the today’s reading on the day that Charlie Kirk was assassinated. With his shocking murder in mind, I am inspired to reflect on this passage in a broader, more immediate way.

As is often the case, Jesus shocks us with His language which invites us to see reality and the spiritual life with a new perspective. He tells us we are blessed if we are “poor,” “hungry,” “weeping,” “hated,” “excluded and insulted,” and “denounced” for believing in Him. How can this be? Jesus’ words are shocking, considering most of us understandably wish and actually work to reject all of this. Our culture tells us we are to strive for success, fulfillment, happiness, love, and inclusion at any cost. How can we want the opposite? Furthermore, how are we blessed by all this suffering?

But Jesus doesn’t stop there. He goes further. Not only are we to suffer, but He also tells us “woe” to those who are “full,” who “laugh,” and are admired. Isn’t this what life is about? Happiness, fulfillment, getting what we want?

On the contrary, Jesus tells us when we are poor and needy, we are to “rejoice and leap for joy,” for our “reward will be great in heaven.”

Why does Jesus focus on our suffering here? Why are we to be poor and small and needy? He tells us this, because if we are filled with the riches of this world, if we are consumed with what we can get and do and have, we will become self-sufficient; we will have little need for Him. He is the way. Only in Him can we find meaning and love and rest for our restless hearts, as Augustine tells us.

Charlie Kirk was successful and much loved by many, but he was also hated–hated so much that he lost his life for standing for Truth. But those of us committed to Truth, to life, to freedom, know Charlie embodied the courage and perseverance we are all called to cultivate as Christians. Perhaps this consolation feels meagre at this moment, on the evening of his death, but we can be sure that Charlie died a martyr for God, Truth, honesty, and the American Way. Let us pray that he is indeed rejoicing and leaping for joy and that that his reward is great in heaven.

Rest in Peace, Charlie Kirk.

On Lust

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Friends, I share this with you, not just because Joe is awesome and insightful as always, but also because it has seemed to me for a long time that at the foundation of all “bad” decisions is an ignorance of who and whose we really are, as well as a lack of formation in virtue. How can we even begin to discuss or assess the moral lacunae in our lives if we have no vocabulary or basic understanding of virtue with which to do so?

We are drowning in a culture that celebrates superficiality and the gluttonous feeding of our passions. We are no longer taught how to think or rightly order our intellect and will.

Let us commit to our own education and surrender to the will of God in and through us so that we may be of use to others.

A New Kind of Fast

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As Catholics, we are fairly good about fasting from food and drink at least an hour before Mass in preparation for receiving the Eucharist. Even kids know this is important and willingly comply.

But what if, as Father Mark-Mary proposes, we try a new fast. What if, for an hour or so before Mass, we abstain from noise or music or entertainment that might distract us from centering on God? Could we quiet our minds, open our hearts, and prepare room to encounter the Lord with greater reverence and attention?

Perhaps with more focused preparation, we will find we are also more attentive to the Mass: the music, the readings, the homily, and the movement of the Holy Spirit in our hearts.

God is always calling us. He is continually knocking at the door of our hearts. The question is, are we quiet enough to hear Him? Are our souls calm enough and prepared to receive Him?

In His goodness and mercy, God offers us endless ways to encounter Him. Maybe trying some new roads, some new fasts, could lead us to Him in ways that will make the journey and the destination even more full of His grace.

Jesus Heals Through His Humanity

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During the month of July, Catholics celebrate the Precious Blood of Jesus. We are invited to contemplate our Lord’s sacrifice—literally the pouring out of His life force for all of humanity itself. It seems timely, then, that on the eve of this devotional time in the Church, we read from Mark about Jesus’s encounter with Jarius and the woman suffering from a hemorrhage. Why timely? Because this story, which in its graceful arc intricately and artfully entwines two distinct and co-equal plots, highlights our Lord’s humanity. Yes, it is His divinity that miraculously heals. But it is Jesus’s willingness and desire to physically and emotionally encounter the other in his and her humanness that ultimately invite and allow for physical and spiritual restoration.

In Mark 5:21-43, the narrative is shaped and informed by physicality. The crowds are loud and chaotic as they press on and push against Jesus, and even the private moments are characterized by tender physical intimacy. Integral to Jesus’s humanity is His attentive listening. This “human skill,” this “fruit” that defines Christ’s “path,” becomes and forms the path of the story itself (Spiritual Direction Certificate Program, 2019, p. 1).

Jairus appears, begging Jesus to heal his dying daughter. Jesus immediately answers this call into relationship with him, “leaving [Himself] behind…[and] entering fully into [Jairus’s] narrative” (Spiritual Direction, et. al., 2019, p. 1). The woman is introduced amidst this chaos, and the story shifts. Faithful despite her suffering, she is drawn to Jesus’s humanity. He is moving away from her, mobbed by followers, but she pursues Him, believing, “If I but touch his clothes, I will be made well” (5:28). As soon as she touches Jesus, He not only enters her reality, into relationship with her, He “becomes” her reality. “Immediately her hemorrhage stopped,” and Jesus was “[i]mmediately aware that power had gone forth from Him” (5:29-30). What’s more, to the incredulity of His disciples, He asks who touched Him. Jesus questions not only to “listen to others,” but also to form relationships with them—“to hear and explore what is on the other’s heart and mind” (Spiritual Direction, et. al., 2019, p. 1). The woman, knowing “in her body that she was healed” (5:29), could have quickly exited, but Jesus calls her to Him, her former unclean “qualities fad[ing] into…insignificance” (Van Kaam, 1996, p. 19). 

It is also significant that the woman’s hemorrhaging blood simultaneously represents the essence of her societal “uncleanliness” as well as the life force that had been draining from her for years and causing her terrible suffering. Both her status as an outcast and a woman in constant pain results in her separateness from others—physically, emotionally, and spiritually. It is in Jesus’s vibrant humanity, however, that He stops the purging of this life force, returning not only her body but also, because of her faith, her spirit to right order.

While Jesus is still speaking to the woman, we are suddenly thrust back into the clamoring crowd. People are telling Jairus the girl is already dead. Hearing or ignoring this, Jesus comforts him “with reassurances of His love” (Acklin & Hicks, 2017, p. 52). Taking only Jairus, Peter, James, and John with Him, Jesus is again immersed in suffering: “weeping and wailing” at the girl’s house. He invites the family to believe the child only sleeps, but they reject this offer of faith, laughing at Him instead. Jesus’s rises up in the strength and tenderness of His humanity, sending them away, and moving towards the girl, into the sanctum of her room (of her being). His actions say, “[L]et me concentrate on giving you my entire attention” (Sullivan, 2000, p. 126), and He calls her into relationship with Him, commanding, “Talitha Cum” (5:41). This healing, unlike that of the woman, is intensely private; Jesus instructs the parents to tell no one. His humanity is delightfully lastly revealed when He pragmatically tells the girl’s parents to “give her something to eat” (5:43). Like her soul, her body requires nourishment, as well.

These stories prompt us to ask, When we suffer, will we have Jairus’s courage to beg for Jesus’s help? When we experience severe emotional and physical pain, will we persevere as the outcast woman, crawling through the crowd to touch Jesus’s garment? Let us pray that indeed we will. As our faith deepens, may we understand that the “human encounter” with Jesus is “the essence of cure in the deepest sense,” and that He calls us to Him through the fortitude of faith (Van Kaam, 1996, pp. 19-20).

Acklin, T., & Hicks, B. (2017). Vulnerability. In Spiritual Direction: A Guide for Sharing the Father’s Love (pp. 49-74). Emmaus Road Publishing.

Spiritual Direction Certificate Program (2019). What Does It Mean To Listen? (p. 1). Unpublished. 

Sullivan, J.E. (2000). The Healing Power. In The Good Listener (pp. 124-128). Ave Maria Press.

Van Kaam, A. (1996). Counseling and Psychotherapy as Human Encounter. In The Art of Existential Healing (pp. 15-40). Dimension Books.