As of late, I keep running into something called "redemptive suffering." First, my spiritual director mentioned it to me. Then, I read about it in the Unleash the Gospel magazine. Then, I heard someone at my summer evangelization internship with the archdiocese mention it. And then, Al Kresta mentioned it on the radio in regards to Our Lady of Fatima and the Sacred Heart of Jesus.
After hearing the term "redemptive suffering," so many times, I finally concluded that God was telling me something. When it comes to my array of mental illnesses--my collection of anxieties and seasons of depression--I tend to "fight or flight," as they so say. When I "fight," I do everything in my power to kick my OCD in the face and trample all of my anxieties. I can fight my depression so hard, with the mindset that if I fight hard enough, the depression will be defeated and no longer cause me sadness or pain. Other times, I "flight." I run away from my anxiety and depression. I don't acknowledge that I have it. I pretend to myself and others that my suffering doesn't even exist. What if I stopped fighting? What if I stopped flying away? What if I just forfeit? That is, surrendered to the suffering? What if I accepted that, "Yeah, I'm suffering. Yeah, it hurts. But I don't suffer for myself. I suffer for another"? Apparently, Pope Saint John Paul II was really good at redemptive suffering--suffering with a purpose--for another and with God. Our Lady of Fatima also exhorted us to pray and do penance and suffer for the sake of saving souls from hell and bringing all souls to heaven. I was writing to one of the Poor Clare nuns from the convent that I was at. We were discussing the suffering that comes from mental illness. She said that illness always reminds her that she can't do life without God. I also went out on the streets of Detroit for a "Backpacking Mission," for my internship. One religious brother was encouraging the homeless we encountered to suffer for the Lord and to live out their lives--as hard as they are--for God's sake. That really struck me. Shouldn't I, who has a home, suffer for the Lord and live out my life for His sake? Redemptive suffering sounds like a contradiction. After all, "redemption," is good and healing, while "suffering," is painful and hard. Yet, during this season of Easter, when we come face to face with the risen Jesus, our Redeemer, we see the wounds in his hands and feet. We remember that our redemption comes from the cross. Jesus didn't run from the cross. He did not fight against the cross. He forfeited Himself to the Father's will, accepting all suffering for the redemption of the world. In more therapeutic terms, modern psychology has found that mindfulness is particularly useful for the mentally ill. It helps those with depression and anxiety by not trying to change the nasty way they feel, or control the crazy thoughts that they have, but accept them as they are. In doing so, the pain decreases. For example, think of traffic! I can get angry and frustrated and restless when I am in traffic with no way out. Yet, if I just breathe and accept that traffic is a part of my day and accept it as unenjoyable, my "traffic suffering" becomes manageable. Yet, we can take mindfulness a whole step further! We can go through nasty traffic for the sake of another person! Not just our own need to get to or from work! What if we forfeit to the suffering traffic brings, so that it becomes a means of our redemption and the redemption of the world? I encourage you to think of another person when you are suffering; someone you know, or someone you have never met. Even write (but probably not send), letters to this person to tell him/her your pain and suffering, but also tell him/her that you are suffering for his/her sake. If I live my anxiety and depression for the sake of another person, my pain drifts from "suffering" to "redemptive suffering." It isn't a matter of conquering my pain or escaping pain. It is forfeiting to it. And look at what happens when we "forfeit" like Jesus. Jesus takes fire and makes Himself burn with love. He takes thorns and makes it His crown. He takes the cross and makes it His shining glory. He takes His pierced side and makes blood and water gush forth from it as "a fount of mercy." "O blood and water, which gushed forth from the heart of Jesus as a fountain of mercy for us, I trust in you." ~ Divine Mercy Prayer from the diary of St. Faustina
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AuthorJacqueline St. Clare: I spent six months in a cloistered convent, and now I'm a college student! Archives
April 2021
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Unexpected Church MembersAll words that are underlined can be found on the "Glossary" page
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