Month: February 2022

We hear a strange reprimand from St. James today: “Come now, you who say, ‘Today or tomorrow we shall go into such and such a town, spend a year there doing business, and make a profit’—you have no idea what your life will be like tomorrow.” (Jas 4:13–14). He says that instead of speaking like this, we should say, “If the Lord wills it…”

It doesn’t seem like a big deal to speak about the future in this way, but St. James is trying to tell us that the future depends on God. Even if God does not directly cause every event in life, He at least allows it to happen, and He does so for good reason. Most of us understand that almost nothing in life goes exactly as planned. At this point, I’ve taken to planning for the future with the mindset of St. James: “These are my plans, but if the Lord wills it, something else will happen and I’ll adjust.”

There is a deeper truth here, and St. James makes it rather explicit when he says that “you are a puff of smoke that appears briefly and then disappears” (Jas 4:14). This reminds me of the popular Christian phrase memento mori, “Remember that you will die.” Saints have kept this phrase in mind through the centuries, knowing that one day all of their earthly plans will come to an abrupt end.

This need not be depressing; in fact, it served as a motivator for these saints. St. Jerome, for example, is said to have kept a skull in his workspace to remind him of this truth and motivate him to do good work for the Lord. We can react to the truth of our death with despair, or we can let it motivate us to strive without ceasing to enter heaven. Death can be our destruction, translating us into the infernal kingdom, or it can be a glorious beginning, translating us into the heavenly Kingdom with God.

The attitude fostered by this preparation for death is one of humble resignation and poverty of spirit, spoken of by St. James and the Psalmist today, and exemplified by the martyrdom of St. Polycarp, whose feast we celebrate today.

If we know death is coming and seek to prepare in hope of spending eternity with the Lord, we will strive to accept everything that comes our way, no matter how difficult, as something that God permits for our holiness. We will understand, as the Psalmist does, that we cannot take riches with us beyond the grave, but we can take the divine life of grace given to those who live a life of virtue and frequent the Sacraments.

Reading the brief account of the martyrdom of St. Polycarp, a direct disciple of John the Apostle and Bishop of Smyrna, we can see how this plays out when we are face to face with death. Polycarp did not panic when he heard of his martyrdom: he initially stayed put and prayed. When questioned by the Roman official, he firmly defended Christianity and declined to be nailed in place, explaining that he would not try to run from the fire prepared for him.

St. Polycarp completed his life at the age of eighty-six, stabbed after glowing gold and smelling of baked bread in the fire that was supposed to kill him. His holy resignation to the will of God, even when expressed through martyrdom, is an inspiration for all of us. We may not have to face what he did, but we all must face death, and the more we prepare to meet Our Lord the better off we will be when that day comes. Memento mori!

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Often my prayer resembles the words spoken by the boy’s father in Mark’s Gospel, who has come to beg the Lord to heal his son, “But if you can do anything, have compassion on us and help us” (Mark 9:22). And in my heart, not only do I hear Jesus’ gentle and kind response, “‘If you can!’ everything is possible to one who has faith,” but I also cry out like the boy’s father cried out, “I do believe, help my unbelief” (Mark 9:14-29)!

I do believe and trust Jesus can help, most of the time, but part of me constantly wrestles with surrender. I am often a woman of little faith that craves signs and wonders to help me believe. In boldness, embracing Jesus’ teaching to ask and it will be given to you (Matthew 7:7), I request oddly specific signs, so there are no lingering doubts. Remarkably, in His mercy, these harbingers and wonders often appear.

I love the Rosary, especially the 54-Rosary Novena devotion. A few years ago, the Spirit nudged me outside to pray. At first, I assumed it was to keep me away from the distractions of my desk, home, and phone. However, the Spirit was about to reveal a much bigger plan. Since I live on a busy street, I decided to do laps around the perimeter of my yard—think Joshua (and friends) and the Walls of Jericho (Joshua 6).

As I made my last circuit, in knots about the current state of my life, I looked to heaven and aired my grievances. “Lord, what do you want from me? I never miss Sunday Mass, and I diligently pray the Rosary. I have even given my life to telling people how awesome you are, and this is my reward? A life overflowing with many hardships — illness, death, financial difficulties, and family discord! Again, Lord, I ask, what do you want from me?”  

As I completed the behind-the-house leg of my Rosary journey that day and turned to face the highway that runs along the front of my home, a tractor-trailer passing by caught my attention. On the side of the truck, in giant red letters, was the word — FIDELITY! 

Fidelity? Really, Lord! The fancy Latin-rooted word, which not so coincidentally means faithfulness, had to be an answer to my cry of distress. Is that what you want? How could I ignore the timing of the truck’s appearance? Only God could arrange the precision of that moment. Furthermore, after twenty years of traffic watching along that same highway, this was the truck’s first appearance!

My trust grew exponentially from that god-incidence moment; the world would see this situation as a coincidence, but I knew it to be heaven reaching through the veil to assure me everything is possible with faith. Just be faithful; I can do that, Lord. I will continue to pray, hope, and wait on you — one Rosary bead at a time. Lord, I believe, thank you for shining into my life to help my unbelief. 

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