An Equation For Eternity

A Reflection on the Second Reading for April 24th, 2022:
Divine Mercy Sunday

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Revelation
1.9-11a, 12-13, 17-19

I, John, your brother who share with you in Jesus the persecution and the kingdom and the patient endurance, was on the island called Patmos because of the word of God and the testimony of Jesus. I was in the spirit on the Lord’s day, and I heard behind me a loud voice like a trumpet saying, “Write in a book what you see and send it to the seven Churches.”

Then I turned to see whose voice it was that spoke to me, and on turning I saw seven golden lampstands, and in the midst of the lampstands I saw one like the Son of Man, clothed with a long robe and with a golden sash across his chest.

When I saw him, I fell at his feet as though dead. But he placed his right hand on me, saying, “Do not be afraid; I am the first and the last, and the living one. I was dead, but see, I am alive forever and ever; and I have the keys of Death and of Hades. Now write what you have seen, what is, and what is to take place after this.”
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“I, John, your brother who share with you in Jesus the persecution and the kingdom and the patient endurance… ”

PERSECUTION + PATIENT ENDURANCE = ETERNAL LOVE

There is a burning inside me this morning as I endure (quasi-patiently) the interruptions of my prayer time. Introverted, busy, and desperately in need of a space to be alone with God—to receive His voice and the infilling of His Spirit—I need so much grace in order to attain this virtue of patience. Be that as it may, space, I have not. Instead, both of my teens woke bright and early (miracle of miracles), and I find myself enduring the arrogance and disrespect that colours this stage in their development. These are not simply interruptions in my prayer time, but behaviours leading to conversations about what disrespect looks like when it is played out. Conversations we have had repeatedly (in increasing complexity) for fifteen years. Not how I envisioned my Saturday morning. And of course this is happening today, because the rest of my day is filled with ministry obligations and errands—every moment accounted for.

But this is the rub, isn’t it. Without testing, there is no faith. Without suffering, there would be nothing to endure. Without teenagers, there is no need for patience. Our God of all wisdom knows where I need to be softened—He knows I need to cultivate this virtue. So He planted a “behavioural episode” smack dab in the middle of my immersion in this gorgeous bit of scripture, fixing my gaze on the ultimate goal: dangling this vision of golden lampstands, a God-man resurrected in all His shining glory, and His hand of compassion damping every fear.

Fear: This is the root of the burning inside me. I fear my inadequacy. I fear my own limitations. I fear natural limitations, like time. Sitting in this fear and allowing it to burn within me as He shines the light of His grace upon it, is the very enactment of patient endurance. Many times this week, rather than sitting with the fears and allowing God to work through them, I ran. I distracted myself from the discomfort in many different ways—I even postponed the teachable moment that reared its ugly head this morning with curt comments and ineffective repercussions. Boyd Bailey says, “Your faith has the opportunity to go deep when you stay somewhere for a while, but your faith remains shallow when you run from resistance.” 

I don’t want to run. I want to have a deep faith like John. I want to live courageously, abandoning my heart, my life, and the lives of those I love into the Hand that holds us here. Today He has given me the grace to see that the greatest persecution I will ever face is the one of my very own mind against my very own heart. Faith tears the veil that separates us from ourselves. Faith lives not in fear, but in Love, which hopes, bears and believes all things (1Corinthians 13:7).

Lord, I beg You to provide the grace to hold me steady when it is time for me to receive the teachable moment You have for me. I want to trust You, Father—in everything.




Lori MacDonald
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