Thursday, March 23, 2006

I need a sign...

I've been thinking about this for a while and I've seen this topic on other bloggers' pages.

I have intensely wanted to have a vision from a heavenly someone. Jesus. Mary. A Saint. Anyone on the heaven side. I can recall a few years ago being in a car and thinking how much I would like to have a vision of the Blessed Mother, to have her come to me like she came to Bernadette. Almost as soon as I completed the thought (prayer?) a feeling of great sadness overcame me. I was unworthy of such a gift. I knew it. I had asked for it and I was unworthy of it.

Why am I unworthy? Because I was so prideful that I dared ask for such a gift. Bernadette saw Our Lady because she was the model of humility. Faustina saw Our Lord because she was exceedingly humble. Who am I to suppose I deserve such a gift? This is not something you ask for. It's something given to you.

Our Lord cannot enter the hearts of the proud. There isn't room for Him there. Our humble God, who will not impose His Divine Will on us, requires us to reciprocate that humility.

And why was I asking for a vision anyway? To get attention? So I could feel special? Well, I am a child of God. What should make me more special than that?

Maybe I asked because my faith is weak. If that's the case, these words must haunt me: "Jesus said to [Thomas], 'Have you come to believe because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and have believed'" (Jn. 20:29). And I do see Jesus. All the time. In the Eucharist. Sure, it looks like bread and wine. I know it's Him because He told us so (see Jn. 6:22-71; Lk. 22: 19-20; Mk. 14: 22-24; Mt. 26: 26-28).

So, lately, I haven't been praying for a vision. I still sometimes imagine that when I'm alone in the church the corpus on the crucifix comes alive and Jesus talks to me, but I try to put that right out of my head. There is a statue of St. Therese of Lisieux by the back doors of our church whose eyes look right through me (honestly, I try not to look at her, especialy when I'm feeling guilty) and I tell her, "Don't look at me like that, Therese." ;)

Hey, man, I'm just out here trying. That's all I can do.

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