The Spoken Spirit

A Reflection on the Second Reading for Sunday, March 5th, 2023:
The Second Sunday of Lent

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2 Timothy
1.8b-10

Brothers and sisters: Join with me in suffering for the Gospel, relying on the power of God, who saved us and called us with a holy calling, not according to our works but according to his own purpose and grace.

This grace was given to us in Christ Jesus before the ages began, but it has now been revealed through the appearing of our Saviour Christ Jesus, who abolished death and brought life and immortality to light through the Gospel.

What is your suffering? Did you choose it, or was it imposed on you? Maybe it’s a little of both.
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I find life is a bit like riding the swell of a wave. There are times when it seems I’m on top of the wave, enjoying the view of the clear blue sky above and coasting along with ease. And, then, there are the times when I’m in the upswell. The water twists and churns before me and I’m caught up in it, gasping to catch a glimpse of the horizon. There are also times when it feels like both simultaneously; the water is forceful, shifting and pulling my body – but I am uncommonly relaxed and at peace. These times – these blessed times – are when I am in the awareness of the great grace of God. These are times when the suffering I choose, bitterness, jealousy, resentment, sin, can be absorbed by the rhythm of the wave as I release my grasp on control and give way to God’s will. His grace is so great, though, that even the sufferings I didn’t choose – pain, illness, grief, abuse – can be softened by the perpetual motion of the water: a steady reminder of eternity.

Grace has always been, and it always will be. It doesn’t change in intensity like ocean waves, sometimes thrusting and other times relatively still. No. Grace is eternal, consistent, gentle – an equal measure from crest to crest. As a child, I longed to see this  kind of wave as I ran over the dunes to the waterside. It invites, it plays, it moves, it calms, it heals. It is well-timed, and there is no sense of urgency in it. Grace is warm and soft, not sharp and biting. It is predictably available, but the outcomes are not so. Grace can at once calm and protect, and again, stir and convict. It is the voice of the Holy Spirit calling out to us – infusing us with life and purpose – if we only allow it to draw us in and send us out. 

This is our accompaniment in suffering: grace. It exists to console and, as we suffer, we come to acknowledge how desperately we need the One who lives and breathes it.

In season 3, episode 7 of The Chosen, Mary Magdalene, one who has suffered much, says this: "Our lives have often been painful, yes? So we think life is full of scarcity and not abundance? But then there are those times when, out of nowhere, somehow the world expresses its longing to be whole. And suddenly God steps in, and we are pulled out of our blindness and we are invited into redemption. I know I was. I know you were."

This is the movement of grace, the spoken Spirit that inexplicably gives meaning to our suffering. Its measured cadence refocuses our minds and hearts on the wholeness of God, the goodness of His plans, and the power He has to redeem.



Lori MacDonald

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