Praying For Grace

Our human nature seems to drive us to demanding retribution and, if nothing else, to holding a grudge against the offender. Human nature seems to view forgiveness against our transgressor as somehow extending a benefit to the transgressor. In fact, holding a grudge or hating our enemy certainly does not adversely affect the enemy any more than forgiving them provides them any benefit — it only hurts us.

Christ requires that we forgive our enemies. In the Our Father, Christ directed us to pray to God requesting that our Father “… forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.” Although we have said this prayer for years, we don’t seem to focus specifically on what this sentence is mandating: that God will forgive us only to the extent that we forgive our enemies. Accordingly, we must forgive the other person FOR OUR OWN SAKE!

Can we muster the strength to forgive an enemy on our own? No — we need to pray to God for His grace to accomplish this super-human effort. And God always answers this prayer! Because of His gift to each of us of a free will, He must wait for us to reach out to Him seeking His help. The very act of reaching out to God with this request, no matter how reluctant we are, must please Him very much and He answers swiftly, bestowing His grace with great abundance. It is in forgiving that we find the true miracle: that we are the one set free — free of the hatred — and we find God.

 

Fear Holds Us Back

A number of years ago a serious problem arose with a family member who had hurt me very deeply. Although alienated from the person, for years, I prayed for the person every day and, with God’s help, tried to forgive the person and to get past the offenses committed. For years, I sent Mass cards on special holidays but received no response of any kind.

Although I had prayed and God had helped me to forgive the person, I also prayed for that person to change and to reconcile with God. It was easy to forgive at a distance. What I failed to realize was that I also needed to pray to God to help me to change and to be open to welcoming that person back!

My offender called my home one evening when I was out of town to thank me for the recent Mass card. Bob, my husband, told the person when I would return. After picking me up from the airport, Bob told me the totally surprising news that the person had called and why. That very evening the person called again – but I was frightened – I had my son make up an excuse that I was unavailable so as to avoid taking the call. My fear surprised me. I had prayed for a long time for this person to change and now that they were reaching out, I did not want to talk to the person. I was afraid that the person would revert to the old ways and hurt me again. I was simply not ready for this. I felt vulnerable and I felt fear.

My son told me I should call the person – to reach out—to be a Christian. I knew he was right and that he was watching me to see what I would do. But I could not do it. I was afraid. I told my son that I would wait for another call from that person. This decision did not rest well on my conscience. I knew Christ wanted me to reach out—to call — but the fear, the fear of being hurt again, held me back.

My son works on Sundays so he has to go to Mass at 8 a.m. He doesn’t like to go alone. On Sunday morning, I was tired but felt it was important to push myself to get up so that he would go. I prayed for the grace to get myself out of bed. God is generous with His grace and I made it up and out of bed.

At Mass, I told God of my fear and reluctance to now accept reconciliation with the person who had hurt me. I didn’t hate him, but I was afraid of going back into a relationship; afraid of being hurt again; afraid to make that telephone call. God reached out with both arms to provide me with the answer and assurance that I needed.

 

Accepting Reconciliation

The sermon was something very special – it dealt with fear. Father read an article by Marie Auburn from Our Sunday Visitor magazine which seemed specifically aimed at me:
 

My father has Alzheimer’s disease. At 78, he’s still strong physically and enjoys working in the yard. But he doesn’t remember my name anymore. As he told me once when he couldn’t remember, “I’ve got it all right up here.” He tapped his forehead and nodded. “But up here isn’t working so good.”

Two or three times a month I take him to my house so Mom can have some respite. I love my father, but there are days when I know I don’t have the energy to care for him, emotionally or physically. Or I’d just rather be doing something else, something for me. But I’m learning to turn to God and say, “I don’t feel like taking Dad out. I can’t handle this today. Please give me what I need.”

Some days, I beg God for help all the way to my parents’ home, the feeling of dread building as I drive. Every single time, though, as soon as I hug Dad and start talking to him, everything I need is there – the humor, the flexibility, the creativity, the patience, the emotional strength.

The first time I volunteered to keep Dad overnight, I sincerely hoped Mom would say, “No.” Instead, she said, “Thank you! Thank you!” I felt nervous about having Dad stay, unsure how he’d react out of his normal environment, worried about his periodic incontinence and my guest mattress, but mostly worried about cleaning decaying food from the hole in his palate, a souvenir of a cancer operation.

Then I remembered a story regarding a novice in Mother Teresa’s order who spent her first day picking maggots from the flesh of a man found dying in a sewer. “It’s not maggots!” I thought. “I can do this!” That perspective comes to my aid now every time I help Dad with this disgusting chore.

My father occasionally leaves home bent on a mission only he and God can understand. It usually involves “seeing some guys from the place we were before.” One recent Saturday afternoon Mom called me, frantic, asking me to look for Dad. Driving toward their house, I prayed for God’s protection for Dad and directions for me. Swinging through the business district, I spotted Dad, standing on a busy corner. He climbed into my car and said, “I’m surprised to see you here.” I replied, “I’m surprised to see you, too.” We both laughed like this was the funniest thing we’d ever heard, but silently I thanked the Holy Spirit for guiding me to Dad.

Beyond answering these day-to-day concerns, the Lord has blessed me with insight into the most difficult question: Why should my father, who had suffered through 12 cancer operations and the loss of a son to cancer, now be afflicted with Alzheimer’s?

“It seems cruel to allow Dad’s sufferings to continue so long,” I ranted to the Lord one day. “Dad can’t even offer this up – he has no idea what’s happening to him.”

Suddenly, I recalled a conversation from about five years before the Alzheimer’s showed its ugly face. The doctor found another tumor in Dad’s mouth, and somehow I couldn’t shake the notion that Dad wasn’t going to survive another surgery. So I asked Dad one night, “What do you think about this tumor? What is God trying to do?”

He didn’t hesitate. “I want to go to heaven, I guess the Lord knows I need more purification before I can get there.”

Then I remembered, too, how Dad offered up all his own surgeries, radiation and chemotherapy for my brother when he was dying, for family members and friends struggling with many problems, Dad offered up his whole life, his past, present and future sufferings, to the Lord – not once, but many times. “Wow,” I thought, “God is just taking Dad up on his previous offer.” And I knew Dad wouldn’t have it any other way.

God didn’t have to satisfy my need to understand why, or give me a truly uncharacteristic patience, or lead me to Dad wherever he goes. That’s just the kind of God He is. He always supplies my needs fully, beyond what I can imagine or deserve, “in a way worthy of his magnificent riches in Christ Jesus.” (Phil. 4:19)

I was very encouraged by this sermon. It was as though the message was directed to me: that God was telling me that He would “give me everything I needed” to reach out to the person who offended me, to make the telephone call. I was further fortified and strengthened by His Body and Precious Blood at Holy Communion. I got the overwhelming sense that He was with me.

When I got home, I waited a little while and then placed the call.

He was with me.