Where is God?

It’s a question I’ve heard more than once. In high school, from a dear friend grieving the loss of a classmate killed in a senseless accident. From a teenager in my youth group as she faced a terrifying medical diagnosis. And from so many whenever there is war or tragedy – as I write this, new reports out of Israel and Palestine bring fresh waves of heartbreak.

Where is God?

Mary Magdalene asks this question too. She goes looking for her Lord in the place she expects to find Him – in the tomb where His body was laid – and it’s gone. I don’t have to imagine the panic, fear, and grief she must have felt in that moment. 

Where is God?

Most of us have felt the angst of this question. Life has gotten impossibly hard, and then we go looking for God, and He’s not where we expected Him to be. Perhaps you looked for Him at church and found cruelty or hypocrisy there. Perhaps you looked for Him in loved ones and found them too heartbroken or too selfish to be there for you. Perhaps you looked for Him inside yourself and found self-loathing or shame instead. 

Where is God?

Just after this Gospel reading ends, Saints Peter and John return home, confused and afraid. Mary Magdalene stays. She weeps for a while, and then she looks again. She asks several people where she can find Him. In her grief, she is persistent – and she finds Him standing next to her. Her joy must have been overwhelming! 

Where is God?

The disciples sit in a locked room, wondering what they sacrificed their past lives for, wondering if their deaths are next. They don’t seek Him out again – indeed, they literally lock him out. And before they know what’s happening, He is with them, standing among them, blessing them. Their joy must have been overwhelming!

Where is God?

In times of grief, God can seem impossibly far away. He is not where we expect him to be. Perhaps we seek Him out, hounding those around us, trying to make sense of what seems to be senseless. Perhaps we lock ourselves away, convinced this is the end of all that is good. The message of the Gospel of John is remarkable – no matter what, God will find us. Whether we look for Him or not, He will seek us out and find us. 

Where is God?

He is with us. Our pain and suffering are not abstract to Him. When we weep, He invites us closer to Him. When we push Him away, He draws ever closer. Mary looks at Him, speaks to Him, but she cannot see that who she needs is already there. She is so convinced that death is final that she cannot see the risen Lord right in front of her eyes – until He calls her by name. Until He calls each of us by name, and we re-learn that we are never truly alone.

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Jenna Young

There are many options available to me on my journey through this life. Before me, and throughout the duration of the Lenten season, I perceived two rather distinct ways to wander along the road ahead: the easy way, and God’s way. I met this fork in the road in a literal sense while I was walking one Saturday morning to my destination: Starbucks.

At the outset of my walk, there were two options: the path well travelled (smoother, faster, and more predictable) or the road less travelled (hilly, icy, longer, and more beautiful). I chose the road less travelled because it felt like God was calling me there, yet on this path I lost my footing a number of times. My heart raced as I regained my balance, and I wondered if I would regret my choice. There is unpredictability on the path of God’s will, and I wasn’t feeling particularly smitten with that. At my third slip, I realized my problem. Pace. I had already placed my Starbucks order, and the last thing I needed was to arrive there on this cold winter day and find my special treat to be as cool as the air stinging my lungs. As I slowed down, reevaluated the situation, and refocused my heart and my eyes, I noticed something remarkable. The fast freeze the night before had left unique designs in the ice: stunning and unrepeatable. As the sunlight fell between the trees onto the path before me, it illumined the white sheen on the ground, like an unsoiled carpet guiding my direction. As I proceeded slowly, cautiously, and captivated by the wonder of God, I remained cold but my attention was no longer on my needs and desires. Instead, it was on the hand of the Creator.

Winter can be ugly and harsh. Perhaps that is why it seems an appropriate season for Lent. I am beginning to realize that things ugly, painful, unwelcome, harsh and all but defeating inexplicably are the very things God uses to dazzle, inspire, heal, soften, and give life to me. I suppose this moment of awakening is my very own spiritual Easter.

According to Father Brian Mullady, “[During Lent] the Church encourages Catholics to look deep within their souls and see when the spiritual winter of the discontented soul may have taken place during the past year.… [P]aralysis of spirit is much like the paralysis of nature encased in ice. Hardness of heart is caused by the lack of grace.” 

To embrace grace, I must adjust my pace. If I have learned anything this Lent, it is that life continues whether or not I am present in the moment or aware that time is quickening. It continues whether or not my eyes are on my problems or on the beauty of God in and through them. 

My prayer for you then, Dear Reader, is not so much that the ice may melt, but that God’s grace might be revealed in its reflection. It is not so much that your path may be easy but that, as you traverse each step, you might notice God’s hand leading you. It is not so much that all the ugliness of this world might be stripped away, but that the beauty of Christ might be revealed in you amid it. Christ is risen! May He rise again in you.

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Lori MacDonald

[Ora first published this reflection on April 18, 2019.]

This beautiful psalm is one of the Hallel psalms that has been recited or sung for millennia at the Jewish Passover meal and other holy days. It is prophecy, praise – a great thanksgiving for the goodness of the Lord. He loves us with an everlasting love. As Christians, we know that the prophecy of this Psalm has been fulfilled. He loves us so much that He sent His Son, knowing He would be rejected, murdered even, so that He could show us the many facets of His might, show us once and for all that nothing is too hard for Him. It is paradoxically, devastatingly, and beautifully flawless – the ultimate demonstration of perfect love and power.

How marvellous in our eyes! Marvellous: causing great wonder, extraordinary, amazing, astounding, astonishing, awesome, breathtaking, sensational, remarkable, spectacular, stupendous, staggering, stunning, phenomenal, miraculous, incredible, unbelievable! The meaning of the original Hebrew word used in this psalm (pala’) is “to be wonderful, be surpassing, be extraordinary, separate by distinguishing action” (Blue Letter Bible). This word is used on many other occasions in the Bible, such as in Genesis 18:14 when Abraham’s wife Sarah is told she will bear a son in her old age.
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This Psalm is a call to share the Good News with joy. Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection are indeed extraordinary and, as such, they speak for themselves. But if they are truly marvellous in that sense, why are they often so difficult to communicate? In John 8:39-43, we see that even Jesus Himself could not convince the Pharisees of His divinity. They were the experts! They claimed to be sons of Abraham! They knew the law better than anyone, and yet they refused to see the truth of Jesus’ identity. ​
 
I am slowly learning that acting with grace means letting God speak for Himself. It means giving up control and letting Love do the work. Galatians 5:6 says this: “The only thing that counts is faith working through love.” Someone who is joyful in their belovedness and who therefore sees the belovedness of others is respected and becomes someone who can address the elephant in the room – someone who can dig deeper to expose the darkness, to strive for better communication, to seek to understand their own motivations, and to also truly hear what others are saying. This is the ability to stand on our own two feet in our identity as sons and daughters of God, unintimidated by the “powers” of the world, operating under an expectation of justice yet forgiving those who fail to deliver it. Wearing the armour of God means we are not easily offended because, as we endeavour to see and know well our own temptations, faults, and failures, we cultivate deep compassion for those of others. This is what it looks like to wield the sword of the Spirit. We will not always be loved by the world – au contraire, says Jesus. But indeed, what is marvellous awaits: the rejected, transformed into the glorified!

Lord Jesus, help us to be joyful in Your everlasting love through the power of Your Passion and Resurrection.
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​Lindsay Elford

In the first paragraph of the First Reading for Easter Sunday, Peter recounts how Jesus was anointed by God on the banks of the Jordan River and received the Holy Spirit. Jesus then began His ministry, during which time He was accessible to many people, Gentiles and Jews alike. He travelled all throughout Judea, sharing His message widely and healing all who were oppressed by the devil. There were many witnesses to His words and works. Jesus was available during His ministry.

In the second paragraph, Peter describes a different time. Jesus had died and risen from the dead. Compared to His time in ministry, few people witnessed Jesus in His resurrected body. Peter says that God allowed Jesus to appear “not to all people” but only to “chosen” witnesses. Jesus was withdrawing from His popular ministry and, as God did on the banks of the Jordan, Jesus would anoint others with the Holy Spirit before their ministry. 

In the final paragraph, Peter reveals Jesus’ command that the apostles should preach the news that He is God, the One who forgives sins. In fulfilment of this promise, on Pentecost Jesus anoints the disciples with the Holy Spirit.

Jesus, limited by His physical body, could reach a limited number of people during His time on earth. However, by anointing His disciples with the Holy Spirit, He is multiplying the Spirit, like the loaves and fish — multiplying without diminishing. Filled with the Spirit, the apostles go on to share the message in lands far beyond where Jesus Himself travelled. Like a candle lit with a single flame, they spread the fire widely, creating more and more disciples by the power of Jesus’ Holy Spirit.

In John’s Gospel, Jesus said, “Whoever believes in me will do the things that I am doing, and they will do even greater things than these because I am going to the Father” (John 14:12). 

And that is what they did.

Lord God, we thank You for sending Your Holy Spirit to be with the apostles and for keeping that fire alive down through the ages for us and for our children’s children. Give us eyes to see all those in our path who need Your holy fire. Amen.

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​Donna Davis