When I (Faith, here!) think about the story of how original sin entered the world, I imagine that the original lie came as a whisper; Eve must have felt it like a chill down her spine when the dark voice spoke slowly and suggestively to her heart. “But why? why would God tell you not to eat from this tree. He must be keeping something from you. He must be holding out on you, Eve. Maybe He’s not really who He says He is…maybe you’re not who He says you are.”

Fast forward thousands of years later, and still, humanity is bearing the heavy, painful baggage that comes from believing that original lie. The Enemy of Goodness whispers it to our hearts on a daily basis, particularly, I think, in the midst of our hardships and sufferings. When our relationships crumble, and our loved ones wound us, when we walk through the valley of longing feeling like our prayers have gone long unanswered, when we feel ourselves overwhelmed by the storms raging around us-  Satan slips in that horrid suggestion that our God isn’t really all that good, that He is far from, if not indifferent to, our suffering.

I experienced this in a big way recently. Over a year of struggling with secondary infertility had lead my heart to a dark, deserted place, a space where I found myself entertaining that possibility that perhaps God was holding out on me….and the lies snowballed from there. I was being punished…and forgotten. God was clearly not the loving Father He promised He was (the one He’d always proven to be), but a distant judge. My silent suffering didn’t -couldn’t- matter all that much to Him, in the grand scheme of things.

It was this tower of falsehood which had begun to loom its ugly shadow over my heart and life and relationship with the Lord that finally lead me to a place on my knees in front of Jesus in the blessed Sacrament. I looked up at Him through my tears and whispered brokenly “I’m trying to give this to you, Jesus.”

His response came gently, but clear as day.

“I am goodness.”

I can’t adequately explain what happened in the weeks following that encounter, only to say that Jesus used that small, uncertain invitation into my real, raw pain to rock. my. world. I went on retreat a few weekends later, and Jesus not only spoke the light of truth into my darkness, He overwhelmed the darkness. Restoration. Healing. A newfound, rightly restored relationship with Him shattered all the falsehood I had begun to believe. It uprooted the doubt, and filled me with conviction, a conviction I now can’t help but share- a conviction that has shifted my gaze from the cross to the Resurrection, from my own inadequacy to my Father’s overabundance, from my suffering to His goodness.

Sisters- it’s true! God is who He says He is- and there is a freedom and a healing here that is meant just for YOU!

I know for many of us, this Lenten season is all about how we can grow closer to God. True, we sacrifice things to rid ourselves of bad habits (and form holy ones) and root out sin during this time. But this Lent, I want you to consider the possibility that its not about how you can grow closer to God, but instead how He wants to draw near to you…to consider that this Lent is less about our offerings, and more about the crosses we already carry, the one’s we’ve brought with us into this season. The places of deep hurt, or confusion or longing…the wounds that make it all too easy to believe that original lie. The places Jesus wants to enter into, to be with you in the midst of.

There is one scripture passage in particular (from John Chapter 11) in which we see the way the Divine Father feels about our suffering. “When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who came with her also weeping, He was deeply moved in spirit and troubled and he said “where have you laid him?” they said to him, ‘lord come and see’. Jesus wept.”

In this moment, even before the trials of the Crucifixion, the Creator of the Universe steeps Himself in our humanity. He enters into our heartache. He is troubled by it. He feels the ache of loss deep in His bones. The hearts and bodies of his friends weep- and He weeps alongside them- His human heart for the loss of His friend and His Divine Heart for the suffering of His beloved.

All throughout scripture and all throughout our lives, God tells us who He is and what He wants to do for us. He sings a narrative of truth, and beauty and goodness over us. He shows us through a perfect track record of fidelity that He will never abandon us.

Sisters, His plan for us was never our suffering. And when we (humanity) freely chose the path of suffering, He pursued us down that path with everything He had. Where we chose suffering, He chose redemption. Where we chose separation, He chose to draw near. He became intimate with our hurt and shame preciously to void the lie that those things have the final word in our lives. Your hidden suffering, your “messiness”, the places in your heart where you weep…this is precisely where God wants to meet you and hold you and infuse you with His healing to bring about your restoration. His heart is entirely open to the entirety of yours- sin, suffering, pain and all.

Jesus sees the sacrifices you are making, the chocolate you’re not eating, the extra hours of prayer that you’re putting in, and He is so pleased by your every effort to grow. But He also sees your heartache, your frustration, your anger, your bitterness….and He wants to ENTER into it with you. He wants you to look away from the cross you’re holding and see Him standing next to you, His loving face only inches from yours, His gaze never once leaving your tears as He holds the cross beside you. He wants you to lean into Him, to press your forehead to His so that you hear, clear as day, as He whispers to your heart the truth about who you are: “daughter”.

Daughter.

Not orphaned. Not abandoned. Not unredeemable….but daughter.

Chosen. Beloved. Saved.

Remember as your walking the road to Calvary with Jesus this Lent that He’s not leading you to the cross, but BEYOND it. He’s leading you to where love proves sufficient…where light tears through the darkness and casts it aside.

In the shadow of the cross it can be so difficult to see the light of the One who is waiting for us with open arms to take our burdens upon Himself and transform them from bitter death into the sweetness of new life…but He’s there. And, oh, sisters, how good He is. How good we are, because of what He’s done for us.

His warm voice beckons you “Talitha Koum, arise, little girl, from your bitterness, your woundedness, your hurt, your questioning. Know the truth…and by the truth, be set free.”