Monday in the Seventh Week of Easter [297] Acts 19:1-8 Psalm 68:2-3ab, 4-5acd, 6-7ab John 16:29-33

Weekly Guide for Daily Prayer Student Daily Reflection

Dear Jesus,

Do we have to suffer in this world?  Can't it be easier? I know you tell us in today's readings "You will suffer in this world," but it makes us uneasy.  Our lives are hard, with families that don't quite work the way we want them to, marriages that are more challenging than we expected and children who push us away.  We sit with dear friends who are dying or watch families torn apart by divorce.

Where are you in all of this?  Where are you in the lives of starving people around the world?  Can we find your presence in the wars, the landmines, the abandoned children and the inhumanity we see on the news?

But what else do you tell us today? "Take courage!"  This is when I remember that you care about me, about each one of us in a deeply personal way.  You tell us "in me you may find peace" and we want so much to believe.  We want to believe in you, but we don't want to hand over control of our lives.  We want to be independent, not relying on anyone else, even you.  And so we continue our struggles in life, certain that we can do this alone.  Until we become aware of the pain again.

There are the moments of crisis in our days. We turn to you.  Help us. Maybe our families seem out of control, our marriages strained and our friendships fraying at the edges. Our children's lives disappoint us. Maybe the medical test didn't come out as we had hoped.  Our careers are failing.  Our lives feel empty and we don't know how to fill them.

How can we ever get through this?  We can't alone.  And so, in our suffering, we turn to you more deeply.  We give up trying to be in total control of our lives and we remember that you are here for us, loving us in our sadness and pain.

We are so much like the disciples in today's gospel, reassuring Jesus that we're ok now, we get your message, we're back in control.  Until our lives fall apart and we leave our arrogant postures and return to you.  Always, always you are there for us, opening your arms again and again for our desperate return, knowing that after we cry, after we unburden and seek peace in you, we will inevitably wander off again, once more "in control."

Jesus, thank you for your faithfulness to us.  Thank you for caring, for being here for us, always.  In you we find our peace, our souls and our most authentic selves.  Help us to remain here, in the peace of your incredibly loving embrace.