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In the Deepest Depths
In the last post Make My Heart Simple, a conversation started around the verse, “I will give glory to your name for ever, for your great kindness is upon me: you have rescued me from the deepest depths.” (Psalm 86).
Many of us have been or currently are in those “deepest depths” … that place where life takes a different, often tragic, turn that we did not expect or particularly want. A sudden major illness or disability ranks right up there in this regard. Unfortunately (fortunately?) I know this all too well having had breast cancer almost 7 years ago and having a tough recovery for that first year or so.
After the shock of finding out about having cancer or going deaf or whatever it may be, it can be difficult (understatement!) to get a handle on one’s thoughts and feelings. Fear, anger, guilt, grief, bitterness, vulnerability, sadness and questions like “why me?”, “what do I do?”, “why if …”, “how can I live like this?” …. all these things can all come rushing in on us and can feel like they are crushing us.
Then there’s the question of God. Where does God fit into this? Did God “will” me to get sick? Is God responsible for this? Can I get angry with God or yell at God for this thing that has happened? Do my feelings of fear, anger, or bitterness mean that I don’t trust God? Will God be with me through this?
It is totally okay to have these feelings and questions. Life just took an unexpected turn and even if things turn out okay and are “back to normal”, what you have gone through does change you irrevocably. Even though it’s been 7 years since I had my first surgery and then got the “all clear”, I am still dealing with how my life has changed — having breast cancer made me rethink everything — my perspective on life, God, myself, relationships and the whole world. And yes, I was bitter about the whole affair. I was young, I had fallen in love with the IHM life and mission, I was active in ministry, and then SMACK! Cancer. After the shock and just getting through the things that needed to be done, I was able to feel more — to feel scared, bitter, and heart-broken. I never blamed God, as I don’t believe God gives us things that hurt us, but I did wonder if any good could come of this. How could I live with something that God didn’t want for me and I certainly didn’t want for me either? Was it possible — really and truly possible — for me to not only cope but to fully embrace this?
There is a great quote from one of our IHM founders, Louis Florent Gillet, CSsR, that is a guiding lights in my life, and it has come to embody how I see God at work even in the midst of my struggles:
“I began without thinking of the future of the work, leaving it to God alone to bless and make it prosper, if it were pleasing to God and useful for the good of others.”
The message of this quote helps me to move through the anger and the grief to a place where I can truly embrace the thing before me (in this case, cancer) and trust that God will make good come of it. Doesn’t mean that God willed the tragedy or that God or I condone it. It just means that even in the darkest, deepest depths, God is there and finds a way bring good to me and to others.
As I write this, I am very much mindful of the tragic death of Natasha Richardson, of the sudden death of one of my friends’ religious sister, and of my own nuns who are living through cancer. Please keep these women and their loved ones in your prayers.
From what or whom do you draw strength when you are in the deepest depths?
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{ 26 comments }
The Servants of the Paraclete had a banner hanging at one of their facilities which read: Where you stumble and fall is where you find gold.
When I find myself in the depths, I remember this verse and start looking for the gold. Others would call it the silver lining perhaps. God doesn’t send me pain, but asks me to be faithful when it comes. So, I look around for the gold. That will take different forms. Usually I find that my prayer becomes more profound when I am “down in the depths.” Sometimes I become involved in a cause that I had only known from the sidelines. And when I am having a really difficult time dealing with the painful reality, I will take 10 steps back and write a short story about it. Then when I post my stories, my journey from pain to acceptance and peace becomes a teaching moment.
You know what is most amazing? When I am down in the depths, I find that God is there with me. My head knows this, but in the depths that knowledge travels from my head to my heart–the longest 18 inches in the world!
Sister Julie, What a beautiful post, thank you for sharing your life’s blessings and challenges. You are a very inspiring woman. God Bless You!
I can only imagine what anyone who goes through such sudden, profound shock (illness, death) can think of God and finding light in the dark. The closest I’ve ever come to such tragic depths was having my heart broken by a man who chose another over me, and that was a long time ago.
I remember clearly how it felt — like my whole world was crashing down all around me, and that awful, agonizing, crushing ache in my chest that took months to dull to relative numbness. I have no idea if being suddenly confronted by illness or death feels sort of the same, but if it does, it’s not fun while it lasts, and it’s very, very hard to see any good amidst such pain.
My thoughts and prayers are with Liam Neeson and his sons, and everyone else in the world, famous or not, whose worlds are crumbling down all around them.
Thanks for sharing this.
Sister Julie, thanks for sharing. I had no idea you had had breast cancer, but I’m glad to hear you have been healthy for seven years. For me, the challenge is depression, which I describe as being thrown in deep water at night with your arms tied behind your back. At such times it’s just a matter of trusting God will bring me out of it, even though it feels like there is no hope at all. Close friends and family help greatly too. I’ve been happy for a year … long may it last!
Very affecting post. When I’ve been in the deepest depths, I look to and meditate on Julian of Norwich and the following words attributed to her:
“He did not say: ‘You will not be assailed, you will not be be laboured, you will not be disquieted,” but he said: ‘You will not be overcome.’”
Of course when we actually – in the moment- of our darkness even the most beautiful words have trouble lifting us up. Keeping that in mind I feel I do better when I can gather everything I can (Julian’s words, a friend I can talk to, or a place I can unwind and take a step back from something that hits me hard).
Thanks for this post and thanks for sharing.
Having worked with families making very difficult decisions about cochlear implants for their young children, having breast cancer which was cured but left me with chronic pain for nineteen years which meant that four years after surgery I had to retire from my ministry, I have resonated particularly with postings in these last days.
My favourite scripture for these times is “Yahweh was in this place and I never knew.” On occasions I forget it for a long time but when it pops back into my memory it gives me a real boost and is a great comfort.
It also reminds me to pray that others will experience God’s presence in their dark times.
I am really glad to have found this blog. Thank you Julie!
Blessings from Joan (in Australia).
You had breast cancer at 30?! I’m so sorry. I’m glad you’re okay, that must have been so hard.
Courage under fire – from one’s own body, no less, in the case of cancer (and depression) – awes me. You all will be in my prayers. Ray, thank you for the beautiful words from Julian of Norwich. She is new to me, but I clearly need to get know her. I love such clarifications of the promise made to us. It helps to be prepared… Jean
It just means that even in the darkest, deepest depths, God is there and finds a way bring good to me and to others.
amen amen amen….
I found your blog site from Vision. I look forward to spending more time here..Blessings beloved one…
angela
I echo Annie’s comment-gosh, breast cancer at 30! We’re the same age, so that had me take a moment’s pause. I’m glad you’re better.
Yeah, it was a shock to say the least. But I am better and doing good. I’ve learned a lot about myself and God through the whole thing. I am truly blessed and while I’d prefer not to have had cancer, I am grateful for every moment.
Thank you for all these posts – they are full of inspiration for me when I next visit the depths myself. For me it was depression also – a serious bout with it 3 years ago, and I vividly remember when I started feeling better – it was spring, I was finally on the right medication and had a wonderful doctor assuring me I’d be OK – all gifts from God and ways that now – looking back – I can see His clear presence right there with me, even though at the time I kept asking “Where are you?? – Help!”
Sister Julie – I am so glad you’re better and have survived your own time in the depths – God bless you.
I also want to thank you for your quote from one of your founders – I have just started a Masters degree in Pastoral Theology – exciting but scary – and I read that quote the day I got all my information to start the program on-line. I was thinking, “Yikes – what have I done?” but reading that, I have placed it in God’s hands, knowing that He lead me there and He will bless the outcome. Thank you so much for giving me the words I needed on the day I needed them.
When I was going through the worst of my hearing loss, I was no longer able to understand speech. I could not understand the homilies in mass, could no longer follow the office/communal prayer with the Sisters, ( someone had to help me through) I could no longer sing in the choir. I thought…O.K God, what is the plan here?
In my world of new silence, I had to find ways to express faith, love, prayer, communication…somehow. So I figured things were being “removed” from me in order to find a new way. Did I need to be empty in order to listen to God in a different way?
Music was my highest expression of prayer. I had been singing since age 7 in choirs, taught myself the guitar, the flute and recorder. That was all gone.
My spiritual director reminded me that art was still in me. That perhaps God wanted me to try something “new”. During a directed treat, she sent me down to the art room, in the basement. There I began to work with clay. It felt strange, new, but it kept my interest. I was able to form some funny figures, nothing special. The next year I came back. Same instructions “go, go down to the art room Liza, go”. During that retreat I carved out a nativity set. It was small, but interesting.
Ever since then, I have been carving in clay. My figures have become more refined and nice prayer pieces. The clay gave me a new way of a prayer experience. May my prayerful carving come from my deepest depths to praise and thank God for a new life, a new beginning.
Sister Liza – Thank you for your beautiful story. I just hung up the phone with my vocation director, after talking about these lines from Mt 7: “Enter through the narrow gate… How narrow the gate and constricted the road that leads to life.”
That you have been able to transform your hearing loss – that narrowing of the sensory gate to your world – into a road to new life overwhelms me, Sister Liza. God is good, and you are lovely.
Jean
Thank you Jean. Blessings to you in your journey, one step at a time, towards God.
In the past five weeks, I have had to undergo three surgeries, two of which may have ended my career/vocation/ministry of offering massage therapy and my mother passed away last Sunday, my birthday. I feel so bereft, I cannot pray any longer. I feel so like the heathen – “lest the heathen say ‘Where is their God?’ ” Please pray for me at this time when I cannot pray for myself or my family. Veronica
Dear Veronica … hang in there. God does not see you as a heathen but as God’s beloved daughter. Saint Paul taught us that God is especially with us when we can’t pray … “the Spirit too comes to the aid of our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but the Spirit itself intercedes with inexpressible groanings. And the one who searches hearts knows what is the intention of the Spirit, because it intercedes for the holy ones according to God’s will. We know that all things work for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose.” (Romans 8:26-28) In other words, the Spirit knows this is a tough time for you, and is praying for and within you. I know it can’t be easy, but God is right there with you even if it feels like you are alone or are despairing. My prayers and the prayers of all who read this are with you, Veronica. Much love.
Remember the footprints in the sand….
Thank you for this beautiful thread.
I have had my share of pain and suffering during my life. So I wholeheartedly sympathize with all of you who have had to endure illnesses, deaths and other major losses. They can be a great challenge.
I resonate well with Sr. Julie who says,
“Where does God fit into all this? Is God responsible for this?”
I do not feel that God causes our misfortunes but it does appear, to my admittedly very limited brain, that God does allow them. I often have trouble with this concept. I don’t know how to reconcile it with my overall loving image of God. (Or maybe I don’t have to. Perhaps it is just one of those paradoxes of faith.) Anyway, my perception of God letting certain bad things happen, does, at times, make me bitter and resentful. On the other hand, I feel guilty about that because I do know that God loves me … which leads me to another one of Sr. Julie’s comments,
“Do my feelings of fear, anger or bitterness mean I don’t trust God?”
It does seem to be the case. And that disturbs me even more. I hope and pray my faith would be stronger and I would be more trusting. But to my once again admittedly limited brain, something just doesn’t seem to fit .
Ironically, though, the acute pain, conflict and struggle in my life do draw me closer to God – even if it does simultaneously make me doubt . Why? In situations of extreme difficulty, I feel especially attracted to deep prayer “with tears”. I desire to speak with God in front of the Blessed Sacrament, to let it all pour out, not to edit a word. And quite often at the end, it’s almost like God takes many of my burdens from me and enables me to live lighter -with less anxiety, stress and more acceptance.
Does anyone else have any similar experiences?
dee
Veronica – I read your post and you are in my prayers – God is with you even in this awful place you find yourself, even if you don’t feel it. I hope my prayers will provide some comfort in knowing you are not alone in your time of trial and grief.
Deerose – I also read your post and have often felt the same way – God doesn’t cause misfortune but He does allow it – why? I have taken comfort from the story in the Gospels where Jesus heals a blind man and was asked what caused the man to be born blind in the first place – his sin or that of his parents’? His response was neither caused it, but it had been allowed to happen to exhibit the glory of God. In this case it was a miracle of healing, but I have found in many tragic situation that were also “allowed” to be, that God was glorified through the courage, love and strength that was exhibited by the people going through it and by those supporting them. That was also for the glory of God – people actually being Jesus to each other during dark times. I hope that might help you as it has me.
Veronica, Dee and Karen –
Veronica, you are in my prayers. More than 20 years ago, one of my brothers six days after my birthday. Some years, I am overwhelmed with grief at that juxtaposition of life and death. Mercifully, those years are fewer and fewer between but, when they do come, my grief is like new, though happy memories also resurface so much more easily now. We are approaching that week: it falls during Holy Week this year, and I will remember you and your mother as I grieve death and celebrate life, my brother’s, Christ’s, ours.
Dee, time before the Blessed Sacrament – most especially when I can be alone in the chapel and, thus, speak aloud and not worry about my noisy tears – is more life-giving (and healing) than I ever could have imagined. The opportunity for a daily holy hour, in addition to daily Mass and the Liturgy of the Hours (even if I have to do it in solitude and a little bit on the fly), is one of my desires as I contemplate religious life.
It occurs to me that my many years of unbelief, despite a Catholic upbringing, may have one very powerful benefit. I have no expectation that God will keep us safe or free from harm in any earthly sense. All that we experience – life and death and everything between, even tragedy, even the decay of our bodies and minds and our vitality as actors in the world – is simply “the way of things” in the earthly universe, in which we are collectively just one particpant. I do not believe God either prevents or allows the events of our individual lives: we are creatures of nature and siblings to all nature encompasses. It is our relationship with God – our willingness to accept the invitation to engage with the Divine while still subject to nature – that allows the transformation of “the way of things” not from its earthly form but in its essential meaning and effect.
Maybe that sounds like homegrown theology – evidence of years away from the Church and a whole of liberal arts – but it feels like Catholocism to me. God does not engage with our earthly lives; God engages with our souls.
Luke 24: “And it happened that while they were conversing and debating, Jesus himself drew near and walked with them, but their eyes were prevented from recognizing him”.
Luke 24: “With that their eyes were opened and they recognized him, but he vanished from their sight. “Then they said to each other, “Were not our hearts burning (within us) while he spoke to us on the way and opened the scriptures to us?”
None of which is to say that I see any reason not to be pissed off. That goes with authentic relationship, right?
(Is it St Jerome who was so grumpy? Isn’t there some quote from St Teresa of Avila where she says something like “well, if this is how God treats friends, I’d hate to see how enemies get treated”?)
Jean
Thank you both Karen and Jean for your responses.
Karen: It seems like you are saying that God allows suffering in order to exhibit the glory of God. (I hope I interpreted your words correctly.) That is an interesting point of view. I think I have come across that in the course of my readings. I am happy that that idea brought you a sense of peace. I personally have difficulty reconciling those types of explanations with the concept of a loving God. To me, it appears to focus on a God that has a greater need to demonstrate self-importance than to compassionately care for the flock. Perhaps I am missing something? Could you possibly explain your thoughts further?
Jean: I wouldn’t say that I personally have NO expectation that God will keep us safe from earthly harm. But I do have LITTLE expectation that God will keep us safe from earthly harm in most ways I seem to understand. I too have thought that this “pain” and “suffering” thing is sort of “the way of things” as you have mentioned. But then my brain retorted, if God is all loving, why can’t the “way” be gentler, less harsh? I have no good answer for this question … however, your comment that “God does not engage with our earthly lives, God engages with our souls” is VERY INTRIGUING to say the least. I haven’t heard that before but it does seem to make sense to me. Is that some of your “homegrown theology” (I have some of that myself – it’s good stuff!) or did you hear/read that somewhere?
Once again, thank you both for your insights. I appreciate your input. dee
I know that whatever happens, it is what I designed, created and wanted in this lifetime so that I could face challenges and develop spiritually. This belief gets me through my darkest hours. God is never to blame. You alone create your reality. The gift of (free will) is given to all by God. My husband recently suffered a stroke. God was with us all every step of the way. I believe in miracles. I see them every day. They need not be mind blowing but we must keep our minds open. The constant presence of Spirit helps me through the roughest times in my life.
Hi Dee – thanks for your response – it made me think a little harder about my own thoughts on the topic. I personally don’t think God causes suffering, but it seems He does “allow” it in the sense that He could stop it if He wanted to. So, using that as my own starting point, I then ask, why would He even allow it? That’s a question that I haven’t found a good answer for…too many books on the subject and nothing has yet really made me say – I get it now. Maybe that’s one of the great mysteries I’ll be privy to someday. For me – and I can only speak for myself – I don’t believe God allows suffering specifically to give Himself glory – I agree with you that that would be a concept of God I would not want to have. I do believe, though, that in the suffering that does come our way, God’s love can be manifested in the way we deal with and respond to suffering. I think when we are compassionate, caring, loving, etc…to those who suffer, we truly reflect the image of God on earth. I hope I did a better job explaining myself – it’s a tough question!! God bless…
As we move closer to Holy Week, I have been thinking about this thread a lot, about suffering, the idea that it can “purify our souls” and a question somewhere (I think here on the blog) about why some people “want” to suffer.
I came across this amazing song yesterday: Postcards from Hell by The Woods Brothers. NOT the razorhead version. Sweetest thing I have heard in a while. I have edited some lyrics in the first stanza (with apologies but this is all I could remember… Their poetry is gorgeous and deserves a full listening; you can get it at myspace – “thewoodsbrothers”)
“i know a man and he sings the blues
he plays just what he feels
[...] and you gotta strain to hear
you never heard a song so pure and true
it’s flowing right of his hands
[...] and he can sing sweet as a choir girl
[...] I seen him calling up the angels
But if you ask him
how he sings his blues so well
he says
I gottta soul that I won’t sell
I gotta soul that I won’ t sell
I gotta soul that I won’t sell
And I don’t read postcards from hell
[...]Seen him sleeping in a doorway
maybe living outside
on his back just like a cockroach
but he ain’t waiting to die
and if you ask him
how he sings his blues so well
he says
I gotta soul that I won’t sell
I gotta soul that I won’ t sell
I gotta soul that I won’t sell
I gotta soul that I won’t sell
it’s how I sing my blues so well
And I don’t read postcards from hell”
Sweet sweet music, and an answer, I think.
Jean