“They made it seem like you had to do all of these things to get to Heaven. They made it so that life was incompatible with faith,” my advisor looked out at the cold Chicago road as he spoke. I had just asked him if he grew up going to church, and I was honestly shocked by his vulnerability with me. He went on to tell me about how the religious folks he knew outside of science made it sound like spending time in the lab and spending time in the church were incompatible, like they were both a waste to the other.
My heart hurt as I listened to his words. I knew how he felt, but I had no words to share. All I had was my Saint Therese doll in my hand and my rosary at my hip.
As I grasped my rosary, my heart and my mind went back to my life over the past several years.
I remembered the exhaustion, pain, and fear that I felt every day for several years. I remembered the looks I saw each and every person around me filled with the same sorrow and dread that I felt inside. For some reason, it seemed like we were all running like characters in a survival movie. Even though we have never been in their position, there is something in our hearts that deeply empathizes with these characters who are just trying to survive.
It’s because we are living like we just need to survive.
“I’m tired. I’m worn.
My heart is heavy from the work it takes to keep on breathing.
I’ve made mistakes. I’ve let my hope fail.
My soul feels crushed by the weight of this world.”
~Worn, Tenth Avenue North
We’re scared, and so we run.
We run towards extra work hours. We run towards excessive online dating apps. We run towards social events we would rather not attend. We run towards workout regiments and diets that deprive us of nutrition and beat us down.
We’re scared.
We’re worn.
I spent most of my life running. My mind cannot stay in one place, and my body cannot rest either. Year after year, I brought myself to the point of exhaustion physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually, all because I thought that if I just kept moving, if I just kept participating, if I just kept giving without care, that I would be successful and happy.
As my thumb slid across the smooth habit on my Saint Therese doll, I thought about how miserable I made myself during my survival days. My heart broke for all of the souls that ran as fast, if not faster, than I did in those days…for all of the souls who are still running.
When we live a life of surviving, we never feel satisfied.
Because when our lives are in constant motion, we lose one essential aspect of life that makes it all worth living.
Love
When we are constantly trying to take control of our lives, we miss out on the ability to love others. It is not that you cannot be loved or love when you are busy, but rather, it is how you choose to love in the business. If you spend every moment focused on how you are moving forward, then you miss the opportunity to give and receive the love made present to you in the moment.
You miss the people who are present with you when all you focus on is moving forward.
And yet we all do it.
I used to believe that if I made many acquaintances everywhere I went that I would feel fulfilled. I figured that the love I desired could be found everywhere, and if I just accepted the little that I saw that I would be ok.
A life spent surviving is a very lonely life.
No wonder so many of us are afraid of dying alone.
Those many years of excessive activity and work took everything out of me. I ignored invitations, and I did not spend as much time in prayer as I used to. All I could think of was making sure I did everything in my power to move each of my 12 undergraduates moving forward, to improve my own work, to be important enough.
And yet I spent nearly every Friday night alone.
“Will You not send someone?” I yelled angrily at God.
How can we conquer this fear? How can we stop ourselves from literally running ourselves in to the very thing that fills our hearts with dread?
Sometimes to be brave is to stop.
When we stop and allow love to come as it is meant to, then we find the love our hearts are so desperate to receive. We no longer fear death because we are no longer alone. We no longer fear the silence because the silence has meaning.
“For your love is better than life.” ~Psalm 63:4
As I felt the Crucifix pressing in to my palm on that drive up to the airport, I remembered when it all changed. I had just started teaching Confirmation with the Short Course Sacramental Preparation Team. Each of the members had such a great love for the Lord, and they all seemed to have a certain inner peace that I could not understand.
One of the members actually seemed to be unreal. He ran nearly everything on campus, was an engineering major, and yet he still managed to give his all to this group.
“When you give time to God, then He makes time work for you,” he said one day.
There was something about seeing an individual so on fire for life itself, so on fire for the meaning of true love, so on fire for each and every activity he was blessed to be a part of that drew me in. If this young man could do so much and make time for the Faith, then maybe I could too.
I started to go to Daily Mass and a weekly Holy Hour. I started to journal in the lab, and I made each and every experiment an offering.
I decided to be brave, to stop moving, and to rest in the Sacred Heart of Jesus.
“Rest so I can love you too,” my Jesus said to me in Adoration.
When we stop moving and stop trying to just survive, we are given the opportunity to receive the love our hearts have been thirsting for all our lives. The work we do is not painful, but rather it gives us hope and life. My research skyrocketed, and everything started to make sense. The relationships we engage in do not feel forced, but rather they call us to be better. My friendships were holier and happier than ever before.
I spent more time within the Church than I did anywhere else, and yet I found time to work, to succeed, to make friends, and to move forward.
When we love Christ and let Him love us in return, then we stop surviving. We thrive in His Heart.
We hit a bump on the road, and I was jolted back to the real world. I could still hear the faint quiver in my advisor’s voice as he continued talking. He was now talking about how lonely the priests are and how they must feel completely burnt out. I clutched my Saint Therese doll tighter as I tried to explain how I loved my priests by trying to help out in whatever way a lay person could.
However, I knew that he was not just speaking about the priests. So many devoted souls are still running from love because they are trying to get their vocation to work as they want it to.
Then I felt a buzz in my pocket, and I remembered the last part of my long long run.
Most of my Dear Readers know that I spent many of my days running around, trying to figure out my vocation. I knew that I was not called to religious life, but how could I honestly believe that my Jesus would even send a holy man when every single man I encountered was either against my faith or did not fully understand my need to be at The Cross as often as possible?
I was running by praying too many novenas, begging too many times, crying for far too long.
So my Jesus made my Fridays lonely on Earth.
But my Jesus did not leave me alone on Fridays. It always seemed like I was on my own on Fridays, but as I rested in His Most Sacred Heart more and more, I started to fill my silent Friday evenings with conversations with my beloved Saints. I would trudge through rain or snow up to The Cross in the Woods and press my hand in to the nails on my Jesus’ feet. Then I would move away and talk to Him and to the Saints.
I would talk to them about everything anything. I would tell them just how lonely I felt. I would tell them how angry I was that even the greatest guys I knew could not help me rest in Christ. I was so tired from running that I couldn’t see how miserable I made myself.
But then one day my heart broke, and I collapsed before The Cross.
“Jesus,” my voice croaked, “You let me try my way. Please teach me how to follow Your Way.”
I was numb, and my mind was silent for two weeks. My work remained valuable. My friendships were still solid. My life was still a wonderful and joyful gift from God. As I rested in His Sacred Heart, not expecting nor desiring to change anything, I felt myself finally gaining the ability to hope and love again. Not entirely, but I did not feel so tired anymore. In fact, that following Friday did not feel so incredibly lonely.
And then my Jesus surprised me on a Friday two weeks later.
And then at 6:30pm on a Friday evening, I heard a voice that took my dull ache away.
Now I have a sweet soul to pray with on Friday nights. Not only a sweet soul, but a good friend and good companion who constantly reminds me to stop running, to stop worrying, to stop trying to make things work and to simply trust in the Most Sacred Heart of Jesus. I remind him of The Cross, and he reminds me of the Precious Blood which flowed there.
My time spent with Christ in the loneliness was not taken away by receiving this gift, but rather, I finally found a soul that desired to ease the burden of my cross on Fridays.
I cannot say that my Jesus answered the question of my vocation yet, but I can say that I am incredibly grateful to Him for surprising me not only two weeks after I stopped running. I can finally rest at the foot of The Cross.
We pulled up at the Chicago Midway Airport, and I smiled at my advisor. Maybe someday I would be brave enough to let him know where my research came from. Until then, I knew that I would be ok so long as I rested in Christ.
May we all learn to rest in His Most Sacred Heart.
Because time spent in His Love is time well spent.
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