
During my 30-day Ignatian retreat, my spiritual director asked if I had ever brought my anger into prayer. For nearly twenty years, I struggled with anger. Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal to throw at someone; you get burned first. The teacher who belittled me never knew the depth of my trauma. For years, I withheld forgiveness. I became an angry child and, later, an angry adult, entombed in hatred and vowing never to be put down again. Anger became my defense against threats.
With my spiritual director's guidance, I brought everything to God in prayer. Through this process, I emerged from the tomb of my self-imposed imprisonment and received grace to truly forgive. As I learned, to forgive is to set a prisoner free and realize the prisoner was yourself. Ultimately, forgiveness became the most liberating experience of my life; it set me free. I can forgive because God has forgiven me first.
The story of Lazarus reminded me of my years consumed by anger. Just as Lazarus was dead for three days, I was spiritually dead for nearly twenty years. During that time, people spoke to me about life, but I was deaf. When I finally brought everything to Jesus, I heard, “Come out, Lazarus.” Jesus broke open the stone of anger and replaced my heart of stone with a heart of flesh.
Reflecting on my journey, I saw my two approaches: First, I tried to stop being angry on my own and failed. Second, when I invited Jesus into my anger through prayer, grace enabled real forgiveness.
Sometimes we forget that we can never be truly successful without God's help. Help me, O Lord my God! Save me by Your loving-kindness. Let them know that this is Your hand and that You, O Lord, have done it (Ps. 109:26-27).
Building on this, Lord, I recognize that without You, I can do nothing. Nothing is impossible to You. People experience freedom from their personal tombs of imprisonment if only they would allow Jesus to break the stone covering these tombs or invite Jesus into their lives. As Martha said to Jesus: Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died—implying that Your presence brings life.
Reflecting further, death brings forth the fruits of new life. Eventually, we all will die. The good thing about our faith is we have the Resurrection—we will not die in vain. Our final resting place, our tomb, is not the end. As one of the prefaces of the funeral Mass says: Lord, for your faithful people, life is changed, not ended. Death is a mystery, and a mystery we understand only through FAITH. I pray that one day we hear the words of Jesus: Lazarus, come out. May we then emerge from the darkness of our tombs into the light of Christ, our true freedom, and allow our community to unbind us.
Lord, may my life be Thine, may my exit be kind, and may eternity be mine, through Your mercy divine! Grant me the strength to trust You in every moment, courage to follow Your will, and faith to rely on Your grace. May I walk in Your light now and forever. Amen!
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