Mercy Sunday is at hand. We have prayed the Novena during Easter week, as always. And I find myself among the lukewarm, once again...yet I still am offered the hope of running to Him, to Jesus whose compassion knows no bounds, Jesus who can change my heart. Jesus, help me!
I am a word maker. So I bring my words to Him, hoping He can use even words. It seems that He does use these poor words, in His way, mysteriously, according to a wisdom that will remain forever beyond me. So I place my confidence and my smallness and my weakness in Him. Jesus.
I am a human being and I have met Jesus Christ. I express that humanity in words, inadequate words, sentimental words tinged with my own vanity; words that make it sound too easy, and that give me the false appearance of being "wise" as I toy with mysteries. All these words. All this straw.
My dear friends who are reading these words: I want you to know that in this feeble effort to give of myself, and with hope in Jesus, I make this straw for you. Use it for your bed. Throw it in your fire and be warmed. Let it dry up the damp ground under your feet. Find something in it.
From my own struggle, what I want you to see is that Mercy is at work. In all my efforts and words the great hope is that you might see His mercy. Because of Him, I am bold enough to hope that you might find it, even in me, in the midst of my many words.
Look for Him. Discover the beauty of His face. I know it's not as easy as it sounds. I know that. But still, He is here, and He is real.
Mercy is at work in the world, in me, and in you.