Let us give our LORD God thanks, praise, and glory for sending us His only beloved Son, Jesus. Through the Holy Spirit, we acknowledge Christ’s living presence among us as we gather in prayer this hour. Jesus—our Teacher, Mentor, and Best Friend—is here right now, listening to our words and thoughts, walking with us through every joy and struggle, always loving us and drawing us closer to God.
Imagine yourself sitting beside the Lord, leaning in as He speaks words that pierce right to the heart: “My son, my daughter, I love you so very much and am always with you. Come and follow me, and together our hearts shall become one; one with our Father in heaven, united with the Holy Spirit.” This is the invitation Jesus offers every time we meet Him—whether in prayer, in adoration, or reflected in the faces of those around us. He calls us to a relationship where He comes first, a relationship that transforms us from the inside out.
It’s easy to box Catholicism into a Sunday morning affair. We dress up, sing, shake hands at the sign of peace, and check the Mass off the to-do list. But that kind of compartmentalized faith crumbles the moment suffering shows up unannounced, dragging its baggage into our Monday mornings, our family dinners, and hospital waiting rooms. Catholicism isn’t a weekend religion. It’s a daily, lived reality—especially in suffering. And if we’re honest, suffering isn’t just something we endure individually. It binds us together in a communion deeper than coffee hour after Mass. There is a fellowship of suffering. And it is holy.
When Suffering Isn’t Just Yours
I used to think suffering was something you white-knuckled alone. I imagined Job in isolation, scraping his sores and waiting for God to speak. But as I’ve grown—both in age and in my walk with Christ—I’ve come to see that suffering has a communal dimension. When my son was abused at daycare, I thought the pain would crush me. When my daughter faced medical complications and we walked through miscarriage, it felt like the cross would splinter my soul. But in those dark valleys, I didn’t walk alone. People prayed. Some brought meals. Others sat in silence with us. I received texts that simply said, “Offering my Mass today for your family.” Those gestures weren’t small. They were sacrificial. They were holy.
Catholic camaraderie in suffering is the Church at its best. That’s what the Body of Christ does. When one part aches, the rest compensates. And more than anything, I started praying something strange: “Jesus, send me more suffering if it is a means to glorify You and bring relief to the rest of the Body of Christ.”
The Cross is Communal
Our society prizes self-sufficiency. So it’s no wonder suffering gets treated like a private shame. But Christianity flips that script. Our Lord did not suffer in secret. He suffered publicly, on a hill, before friend and foe alike. He was lifted up—not just to save us individually but to draw all people to Himself.
St. Teresa of Avila once said, “God knows how to draw good from evil. And the good is all the greater in the measure that we diligently strive that He not be offended in anything.”
That striving isn’t done alone. It’s communal. Suffering shared in love becomes redemptive. To love is to suffer. To suffer is to open your heart to the suffering of others. And when we offer up our afflictions—especially those we didn’t choose—for the sake of others, we participate in the apostolate of suffering.
Offering It All
Padre Pio once said, “Love Jesus, love Him very much, but to do this, be ready to love sacrifice more.”
There’s a prayer I’ve started saying more often lately: “Lord, I will offer my present sufferings in atonement for this person’s soul.” It’s not easy. Especially when that person is someone who’s caused harm, someone who’s part of the injustice. But that’s where the Gospel gets real. The Cross wasn’t offered for the righteous. It was for sinners. That includes me. That includes them.
To suffer in union with Christ is not a resignation to pain. It’s an act of rebellion against despair. It is choosing to love in the furnace of affliction. And it is a powerful witness.
When someone embraces suffering with patience, gentleness, and joy, it is undeniable proof that the Holy Spirit is alive in them. That kind of suffering transforms you. It sanctifies. It makes you beautiful when united to the Cross. As I often say, “Suffering is truly sanctifying when you look to Love.”
Job as Our Model
St. Josemaria Escriva put it beautifully: “Those who pray and suffer, leaving action for others, will not shine here on earth; but what a radiant crown they will wear in the kingdom of life! Blessed be the apostolate of suffering!”
Our job as Catholics is to act like Job when faced with suffering. Not to deny the pain. Not to pretend we have all the answers. But to remain faithful. To hold on to God when everything else is stripped away. And to look around and realize: we’re not alone.
There is a fellowship of suffering in the Church. It’s seen in the parishioner who lights a candle for a grieving mother. It’s seen in the teenager fasting for a friend with cancer. And it’s seen in the weary dad kneeling before the crucifix saying, “Jesus, I trust in You.”
The suffering of the Cross is a necessary harbinger of union with God in Heaven. That’s not just theology. That’s lived reality. And while we wait for that final union, we suffer together, in communion, so that the light of Christ is not hidden under a bushel basket but shared with the world.
Suffering is inescapable. But it is not meaningless. In the Body of Christ, suffering becomes a channel of grace—for us, and for others.
So let us embrace it, not as punishment, but as participation. Not as isolation, but as invitation. To love. To serve. Become like Christ.
Lord Jesus Christ, I come before You—broken yet hopeful, wounded yet seeking, fallen yet rising once more.
Through the waters of Baptism, I am Your servant. Through the gift of Your grace, I am Your child. Through the mystery of Your love, I am Yours.
When anxiety floods my heart, when doubt clouds my mind, when despair threatens my soul, I turn to Your Cross.
The Enemy whispers of failure. The Enemy stirs my self-loathing. The Enemy plants seeds of despair. But at the foot of Your Cross, these burdens grow lighter.
Saint Catherine of Sienna wrote, “Every great burden becomes light beneath this most holy yoke of the sweet will of God.” Pour forth Your Holy Spirit upon me:
That I might love myself as Your creation
That I might seek Your will with confidence
That I might offer myself wholly to You
My sins have wounded me deeply. My sins have damaged my earthly relationships. My sins have separated me from You, Most Holy Trinity.
Yet I lift my eyes to Golgotha. I behold You crucified. I witness Love poured out completely.
May Mary Intercede for Us
“It is through the atmosphere of Mary that we truly are able to receive the light of the Son.”
At Calvary’s darkest hour, You spoke words of eternal comfort: “Woman, behold, your son.” “Behold, your mother.”
In Your suffering, You gave us Your mother. In Your pain, You secured our adoption. In Your death, You ensured we would never journey alone.
When failures overwhelm me, I look to Your Cross. When trials surround me, I remember Your suffering. When doubts assail me, I unite myself to Your passion.
This pilgrim journey toward holiness is not walked alone. We stumble together. We rise together. We move toward You together—finding unexpected joy and surpassing peace even in our suffering.
Editor’s Note: This post was originally published on April 19, 2019.
A Prayer Before the Cross
Lord Jesus Christ, I petition you as your most unworthy servant and adopted child through the waters of Baptism to hear my petitions. Please soothe the anxiety in my heart, mind, and soul over the pressures, toils, and attacks of despair the Enemy sends my way. Self-doubt and self-loathing pervades me mind throughout today.
Saint Catherine of Sienna wrote, “Every great burden becomes light beneath this most holy yoke of the sweet will of God.” May I receive the graces from the Holy Spirit to love myself and confidently seek your Will, not for my sake but as in loving myself I make a worthy offering to you Most Holy God.
My sins wound me. Damage my relationship with myself, my neighbors, and ultimately You Most Holy Trinity. I ask the Blessed Virgin Mary and the saints in Heaven to help re-orient my gaze to the Cross of Jesus—crucified on Golgotha.
May Mary Intercede for Us
I recall the words from a homily by my parish priest who declared, “It is through the atmosphere of Mary that we truly are able to receive the light of the Son.” According to John 19:26-27, “When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple there whom he loved, he said to his mother, ‘Woman, behold, your son.’ 27 Then he said to the disciple, ‘Behold, your mother.’ And from that hour the disciple took her into his home.”
At the foot of the Cross, Jesus entrusted his beloved disciple [and all humanity] to his mother. More important, Jesus gifts us the blessing of the Blessed Virgin Mary as well.
Failures, trials, and doubts will surround us throughout life. Uniting ourselves to Christ’s suffering in Calvary brings joys and peace in the struggle. Remembering that we are all in this pilgrim journey, towards holiness, together helps sustain me in my downtrodden times.
My family is going through an unexpected and emotion-laced event. Because of the sensitivity and uniqueness of the situation I can only be vague. This challenging experience combined with my shift to working the night shift has pushed me to the brink. A brink I have not quite experienced since 2015—the very same year I started to seriously discern my dream to become a full-time writer.
Full disclosure: I thought about quitting today. Lack of sleep and emotional strain are likely the culprits of that feeling.
Writing has been my dream a long time. I have been preparing since I was in first grade. I have always been recognized as the storyteller by my immediate and extended family. The passion and peace I experience writing is found nowhere else—except in my faith life.
The Effects of Unforgiveness
Anger, fear, and doubt crippled me. This paralysis could have easily lasted the entire day and longer. When you experience suffering in your life there are two roads to travel. The first path is to succumb to wrath, jealousy, envy, callousness, and other sinister sins of the mind. Not being able to forgive someone makes you initially feel in control. In the short term it is oddly satisfying. Failure to forgive over an extended period of time causes paralysis.
According to St. Philip Neri, “If a man finds it very hard to forgive injuries, let him look at a Crucifix, and think that Christ shed all His Blood for him, and not only forgave His enemies, but prayed His Heavenly Father to forgive them also.” Forgiving others sounds great in theory, but what happens when you are put to the test. I mean really, truly, and actually put to the test!
Forgive Without Measure
Currently, I am in the middle of that test. The situation is still fresh. Wounds still raw. Below is a conversation I had with God as I prayed for the grace to help my unforgiving heart:
Me: Lord, I am so incredibly mad. Words cannot describe the rage I am feeling. I cannot forgive now. I don’t want to forgive. Do I have to forgive in this situation?
God: What did I tell St. Peter?
Me: You told him, “I say to you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times [you must forgive them]” (Matthew 18:22).
God: Right! Now why did you ask whether you must forgive others?
Me: Because this situation is particularly bad. I simply cannot forgive in this situation.
God: Forgive others, lest you will be not able to ask me for forgiveness.
Me: But, you must realize this situation is particularly bad.
God: My son, ask and you will receive. Ask me for the grace to forgive and I will give it to you.
Me: But I have asked yesterday and this morning. I still cannot forgive.
God: Ask again my son.
Me: What if it takes me at least a year or worse a decade to forgive.
God: Ask daily if you must. Ask hourly if you must. Even if it takes you years I will keep my promise. I will give you the graces to forgive. Remember the Scriptures of how I led my people out of bondage in Egypt. Sometimes good takes time to come to fruition. Ask, ask, ask my child. Rely on me every moment.
Suffering Transforms Us
My faith is being put to the test. Suffering transforms us. If you embrace it and carry our cross we become more Christ-like. If we flee from it, it only intensifies. We keep getting opportunities to embrace it. Failure to embrace suffering leads to us becoming less than what we were created for. “If God sends you many sufferings, it is a sign that He has great plan for you and certainly wants to make you a saint,” wrote St. Ignatius of Loyola.
This thorny path I am on is painful, but necessary. I need to forgive others. I am not ready to forgive today. I will petition God for the grace to forgive. My prayers will continue daily until the end of this life if needed. All things are possible with God (Matthew 19:26). Every suffering leads toward a greater good (Roman 8:28).
Will you join me in the quest towards forgiveness? A friend of mine shared a relevant quote he came across recently. “Pay attention to the places in your life that the Enemy fights. Where you face the most warfare is where the enemy is most afraid.” Let us ask Mary Undoer of Knots to undo the tangles of unforgiveness in our hearts and bring our sufferings to Her Beloved Son.
