The past few years, June has been a month of joy, knowing that it’s the month dedicated to Jesus’ Sacred Heart. This June though has been one of the hardest months of my life. It’s felt like an endless desert, endless hopelessness and discouragement because it seems like He’s disappeared during the time I need Him most.
I recently learned that “courage” comes from the Latin word “cor” which means “heart” so to be discouraged means to lose heart. I hate to admit that I’ve lost heart when it comes to my relationship with Jesus.
I’ve been really wracking my brain, wondering what I could write about to honor Jesus’ Heart, in this month where He feels so far away. What I keep remembering is a verse in Hosea that says, “[I will] make the Valley of Achor a door of hope.” (Hosea 2:15). The Valley of Achor in the Old Testament was a place of disappointment, of destruction, of total loss, the desert of all deserts. And here God says that in this place of utter destruction, where everything is dead, He will provide a door of hope.
I’m coming to realize that the door of hope is the Sacred Heart of Jesus.
Two weeks ago, I was shopping for business attire for a work conference. I hate shopping with a passion, yet I was persistent in finding some new clothes. My shopping success came at the cost of feeling ugly, the image of my reflection in the mirror imprinted in my memory, of how my body slumped in shame and disgust.
I was on my way out, preparing myself for a night of tears when suddenly a girl about 10 years old stopped me, “Excuse me,” she said. “You look pretty.”
I was instantly hit with Jesus’ attentiveness to my needs in providing me with the truth when I was so blind to see it. That little moment gave me hope that He’s still listening.
I was reminded again that He’s still listening a few days later when I was flying to Kentucky for a work conference. I was in the middle of a pleasant conversation with a lady I met on the plane when she mentioned that she helped to commission the building of a statue of Thomas Merton.
I instantly reached reached for the book that I’m currently reading to show her. It’s The Seven Storey Mountain by Thomas Merton. She looked a bit surprised at the coincidence but I don’t think it matched the cartwheels of joy I was doing in my head!
I’d bought the book after learning that Thomas Merton had been baptized in his twenties at the same church in New York City where I spent a week on a mission trip. That instantly drew me to him. Most recently I’ve been drawn to his humanity. He loved Jesus as best as he knew how, knowing that he’d never love Jesus perfectly.
I woke up the first day of the conference and put on the newly ironed slacks, blouse and blazer that I’d bought a few days ago, wondering if I looked like a little girl playing dress up.
Turns out, I was dressier than most of the other attendees. I felt my anxiety rising, realizing that in all of my efforts to fit in perfectly, I had failed.
As I pondered all of this while walking to the church for daily Mass, I nearly stopped in my tracks. There was a huge mural of two men on the side of a building, one of them being none other than Thomas Merton.
Tears sprang to my eyes. I still didn’t know what this day or this conference held, and I still felt overdressed, but I had reassurance that Jesus saw me, that Thomas Merton had somehow become my companion for the journey.
On the way back to the hotel after Mass, I couldn’t help but tell a coworker of mine who was also at the conference about my newfound love for Thomas Merton.
Then she said, “No way, look!” I looked where she was pointing and noticed that the street we were about to cross was named Thomas Merton Street.
My mouth opened in complete shock, not even trying to hide my excitement.
That’s when it clicked for me. Although I’d lost hope that Jesus was still listening to my heart, He was proving time and time again that He still cared, that He was giving me exactly what I needed. If He cared so much about these little things, how much more did He care about the big things on my heart?
My life still seem despairing at times, and I’m tempted to lose hope, to believe the lie that He’s not listening, but I keep thinking about that little girl who told me that I looked pretty when I needed to hear it most, and the moments I encountered Thomas Merton when I really needed a friend. Those moments remind me that Jesus truly knows my heart in a personal way, which must mean that He knows my suffering in a personal way.
He knows your heart in a personal way and He knows your suffering. It might not feel like it at times, but He’s attentive to your heart and He’s inviting you to take courage!
Upon entering into His passion, Jesus said to the disciples, “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world” (John 16:33). Jesus could have slumped into discouragement at this moment, could have chosen to lose heart. Instead in the moments before His greatest agony, He thought only of you, he thought of you in your moments of discouragement and despair when you’d need hope, hope in the Valley of Achor.
So, take heart! Jesus’ Sacred Heart still beats for you.
Peace and joy,
Kirsten
