Trying to hold it all together
The loudness of God's truth, in the silence
Many times, I lament how quiet God is.
It seems like in the moments where I need answers from Him, He's silent.
Through faith, I know that He's present to me: that He's watching, listening, and waiting for me to turn back to Him.
But in the moments where I least expect it, it is in that silence that He speaks the loudest.
Before going to meet a friend for lunch, I went a nearby chapel to spend some time in front of the Blessed Sacrament. The chapel was empty except for Jesus Himself.
I settled in, trying to keep an open mind and heart.
That particular day, I felt a sense of heaviness in my heart. I wasn't sad or upset, but I knew that there were some things that were weighing on me.
I sat in the quiet, listening to the faint sounds of movement in the church and birds chirping outside. I felt an invitation to open my bible to a passage that I prayed with a lot while I was in postulancy:
Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.
Matthew 11:28-30
It all felt so attractive: Giving Jesus all the burdens I have and finding rest in Him. The metaphor of two farm animals being yoked together—an immature one to a more mature one—has been stressed to me many times before. Jesus wants to help me carry the weight of whatever it is that is weighing me down.
And yet, I could feel myself straining under the weight. It was almost like I was trying to show off how much I could lift at the gym.
I sat with the passage for a bit, asking God what He wanted to say. In an unexpected moment of clarity, He spoke: "Why do you persist in holding onto everything on your own?"
The clarity was unsettling. It brought me new depth to what St. Augustine says in his Confessions: "You called and shouted and burst my deafness."
But the calling wasn't demanding, and the shouting wasn't in anger. It really did feel like my ears were being opened in a more profound way.
Time and time again, I find myself in this place of holding everything on my own. And time and time again, God calls me to return back to Him, entrusting all my worries and burdens to Him.
In a moment of self-reflection and irony, I realized that one of the things I was trying to fast from this Lent was unnecessary worry. I wanted to set the intention of leaving everything at the foot of the cross and letting God take control. This was something that I wanted to be more proactive in, and bring it with me into Easter and beyond.
Jesus isn't upset that I continued to carry more than I could. He's not even passive-aggressive, letting me suffer the consequences of my own mistrust. But out of love, He gently brings me back to myself and presents me with another option. We can carry these things together.
More and more, I've come to really embrace the theme of "returning" in the season of Lent. As the prophet Joel says, "Yet even now, says the Lord, return to me with all your heart... for He is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love..."
The Lord is gracious and merciful. He isn't spiteful and leaves me to my own devices. But He does call me to return to Him on my own volition, from the depths of my own heart.
To tie this reflection all together, I wanted to share a little personal update.
This past week marked 6 months since coming home from postulancy. As you might imagine, it's been a unique time of challenge and grace.
There have been moments where I seriously wondered if I actually did the right thing. I wondered if I was derailing God's plan or even wimping out from something that was too difficult for me.
But as I reflect back on all the things that have happened, I've come to see that God has been present to me throughout. In fact, He was and continues to be so close to me and has blessed me so abundantly. I'm grateful to all those who have welcomed me home and supported me through what has been a very unique time.
As we come into the second half of Lent (already?!), may we choose again and again to return back to Him. Even in the moments where it feels overwhelming, God invites us to let Him carry our burdens together.
In Jesus Master,
Rachel
This piece really spoke to me and my journey as well. Thank you, Rachel, for putting it into words.