Yesterday was Divine Mercy Sunday, the 2nd Sunday of Easter. I look at the image that St. Faustina depicted and it seems rather distanced and abstract. The idea of divine mercy is lost on me.
Divine mercy is as incomprehensible as unconditional love.
Our own hearts and even more our own minds are too conditioned, too attached to causal relation to understand the mystery and gift of God’s unconditional love. And yet in the end that which we do not “know” is what our hearts seek ardently.
A recent Easter post by Steven Gershom speaks to a facet of this love as it is revealed when Jesus calls Mary by name.
Jesus turned to her and said, “Mary”. She turned to him and cried out, “Rabboni!”
What is lonelier than not being seen, not being known?
It is said that the Holy Spirit is the look of love that passes between the Father and the Son. Think of the look of love: think of how unafraid it is, how it sees every bit of us, and delights in what it sees. Think of the certainty that it produces, the certainty that we are understood.
It is this look that kindles in us our selfhood, gives us confidence to live, gives us ground to stand on.1
Some of us grew up unseen. Our parents, maybe, saw only the reflection of their own failures — or were too consumed with their own hurts to see us at all. Or our schoolmates looked and saw only our differences and kept their distance, as if our social leprosy was catching. Or, somehow, nobody saw us at all; we didn’t fit into any group, were outside of every plan. We were spare parts.
What happens when we are not given the look of love? We become afraid. We will go to any lengths to draw this look out of others, but we despair at the same time, because we know that the look is worth nothing unless it is given without our asking.
You can read the rest here.
And yet sometimes, in the high tides of my depression I will question whether God sees me, whether He even knows my name.
“It is this look that kindles in us our selfhood, gives us confidence to live, gives us ground to stand on.1”
I can identify with this loss of self in the struggle of living with an illness of the mind. I painfully know the thrashing towards peace of mind seeking that my value as human be validated. Yet there lies a paradox. A few years ago during an emotional session, my p-doc (psychiatrist) asked -“What is it that you want?”
Me-“I want to told that I am loved and that everything will be just fine. … But you can’t just ask someone to tell you that bc you want someone to just say it without you asking. Asking for it somehow negates its validity.”
Yet the only One who can know all of our needs, our heart, our entire being is Jesus. I try my best, when troubled in mind and heart, when feeling unloved, unneeded, when questioning the worth of my life, to slowly just breathe and hold onto the thought that God is there, that God loves me and that is all that truly matters.