Wait...wait...wait...He Answers Us Always!

“Let us conduct ourselves in all circumstances as God’s ministers, in much patience; in tribulations, in hardships, in distresses; in stripes, in imprisonments, in tumults; in labors, in sleepless nights, in fastings; in innocence, in knowledge, in long-sufferings, in kindness, in the Holy Spirit, in unaffected love; in the word of truth, in the power of God; with the armor of justice on the right hand and on the left; in honor and dishonor, in evil report and good report; as deceivers and yet truthful, as unknown and yet well known, as dying and behold, we live, as chastised but not killed, as sorrowful yet always rejoicing, as poor yet enriching many, as having nothing yet possessing all things.”

2 Corinthians 6: 4-10

In this passage Saint Paul is describing the perfect apostolic man. It is especially important to take notice of the overlying theme—patience. God does not work on our clock. As put by the pastor of Saint Mary’s in Gatlinburg this past Sunday, “God does not acknowledge time. Time does not even exist to Him.” And in very eloquent, as well as beautiful imagery, he went on to mention that ‘we are as close to the foot of the Cross on Sunday in Mass, as Mary and Saint John were on the day of Christ’s crucifixion!’

How could this possibly be?

God transcends time. He transcends everything. And He so loves us that, not only did He give His only Son—an extension of Himself, to atone for our sins nearly 2,000 years ago (in human time), He continues to give Christ as a sacrifice to us every single time a Mass is celebrated!

Why are the doors not flung open, with people pouring out onto the streets to receive the Most Holy Blessed Sacrament?

Because we are too impatient to take a very short amount of our daily time—time that is a privilege given to us by the Father, not a right obtained at our conception, to learn of God’s unending, unfathomable love and mercy.

Last night there was a football game. Of course there was a football game; there were many of them; it was Sunday. That’s the day we wake up, consume alcohol, eat fattening food, drape ourselves in various colors, and worship football. The last game of the night ended with a “questionable” coaching decision. On 4th and 2, at their own 29-yard-line, the team winning by 6 points decided to go for first down rather than punt. They didn’t get it, and ultimately lost.

Why is this so important, you may ask. It’s not.

But every time I look up at the televisions of my workplace they are talking about it, discussing it, beating the issue over the head with a thousand pound club, until we are all sick to our stomachs over the very thought of it.

How many times today did I look up and see a program about God or the Eucharist? Not once.

For thousands of years man has given God every reason to lose His patience with us, and he remains merciful and loving, no matter how many sins we commit against Him. We miss Sunday Mass, but we do not miss a single second of the football game. We consume our minds and lives, seeking the answer for riches and the ‘good life’ through “Secrets of the Mega Rich” articles in man-made business magazines, yet our bibles and prayer books gather dust on the shelves, while our churches remain half full. The very moment something “bad” happens in our lives, we give up hope, lose patience, and question His very existence. But He remains patient.

It is difficult to sit back and wait, especially in the “want it now” society we have built with various forms of technology. We want even our prayers to be heard immediately, and rewarded immediately.

I remember being a sophomore in high school, and saying a nightly devotion to Our Lady of Guadalupe, hoping to become the starting point guard on the basketball team. I was more devout to that chaplet, and that cause, than many since.

Day after day went by, and I practiced harder and harder, to no initial answer of my prayers. I persevered through the rest of my sophomore year, and was even stripped of my varsity jersey by the end of the season.

Over the following seven months I practiced every day, and I prayed every night. As the beginning of the season neared I was sure that my time had come. Then, one week before opening tip-off, I was demoted to second string, and days later, third string. Ultimately I spent the majority of my time playing junior varsity basketball for the third consecutive year. My hopes were crushed, but I did my best to endure the internal disappointment.

Finally, my senior year rolled around, and shortly into the fall we began practicing for the upcoming season. The idea of sitting out the season never crossed my mind. I had put too much time, sweat, and devotion into that team for three years to give up. Also, I had not reached my ultimate goal—starting point guard. So I practiced every day, and prayed every night, and just as it happened the previous two years, I was demoted from first string to second string days before the first game.

I was not discouraged; I was irate. I wanted to quit, but I loved my teammates, and I didn’t want to walk out on them. I figured I would still get to play quite a bit, even if I wasn’t a starter. I was wrong. I hardly played at all.

Four games into the season, I quit. I have never revealed that to anyone before now. I didn’t turn my jersey in, though, which I still believe to be a blessing. I skipped four consecutive practices. In my mind, my career was over. Then, on the afternoon of the next game I felt an irreplaceable feeling of emptiness. I could not imagine what I would do, or how I would feel if that game went on as scheduled, and I was not in uniform with my teammates. So I swallowed my pride, walked back in that gymnasium, and then into my coach’s office, and I pleaded for my spot on the team. He must have been in a good mood, or God somehow intervened, because he agreed to let me rejoin the team. I was sure that I would almost never play again, except in practice. But I was okay with it. I was satisfied knowing that I had not quit.

Several games later, one guy went down with the flu, and could not play. I walked into the locker room from pre-game warm ups, and my name was on the chalkboard, along with the other four starters. I had waited three and half years for that moment, practiced three and a half years for that moment, but most importantly, I prayed for three and a half years for that moment. And I started every remaining game in that season. My patience and perseverance was rewarded.

I still remember that story, every time I want to quit or succumb to a hardship. And that’s when I pick up my Rosary and pray. He’s patiently waiting, always!

I would like to conclude this post with a passage from Saint John Chrysostom:
“The weak and lazy quit immediately at the first difficulty; the earnest and the ardent, instead, persevere in Divine pursuits even in the face of a thousand obstacles; and as much as it lies within their power, they accomplish all things. It is particularly characteristic of the lover never to cease doing what pleases his beloved.”

Love and GOD FOREVER,
Anthony Paul