“I have much more to tell you, but you cannot bear it now.”
2. Meditatio
They say ignorance is bliss. I suspect that is sometimes true, though it is a bliss much like the peace of a sheep that has not yet noticed the wolf on the ridge.
More than once after some family crisis or stressful event, people have remarked how calm I seemed during it all. My usual reply is that I remained calm chiefly because I did not fully understand what was actually happening. Had I grasped the whole matter at the time, I might have panicked magnificently.
Age has a curious way of turning old events over like stones in a field. During these Lectio Divinas, moments from my past return to me unexpectedly, but now illuminated from a different angle. I suddenly realize how near I once stood to decisions that might have entirely altered the course of my life. A conversation, a friendship, a retreat reluctantly attended, a move to another town, an ordinary Mass on an ordinary morning—each now appears less accidental and more like one thread in a tapestry whose pattern I was incapable of seeing at the time.
The young man I once was could not bear such knowledge. He would have demanded explanations from God the way a student demands answers from the back of the textbook. But God, in His mercy, rarely hands us the map all at once. If He did, we might worship the map instead of trusting the Guide.
Not because truth is cruel, but because truth is heavy. Heaven itself must be introduced gradually lest it crush us with glory.
As I grow older, I discover that many things which once appeared meaningless or even disappointing now seem full of hidden architecture. A closed door prevented a disaster. A humiliation preserved me from pride. An unanswered prayer became the answer to another prayer I had not yet learned to ask.
I think of the shepherd leading sheep through fog. The sheep cannot bear to see ten miles ahead. They only need enough light for the next few steps and enough trust to follow the voice calling them onward.
And perhaps that is sanctity: not possessing complete understanding, but slowly becoming the sort of creature that can bear it.
3. Oratio
Lord Jesus Christ, You know how impatient I am with mystery. I want explanations before obedience, clarity before trust, and conclusions before the story is finished.
Yet You speak to me gently, as one speaks to a weary traveler carrying too much already.
Teach me to bear uncertainty without despair, to bear memory without bitterness, to bear truth without pride, and to bear suffering without losing charity.
When I cannot understand Your providence, let me at least remain near Your voice.
And when the Holy Spirit slowly unveils what I once could not bear, grant me the humility to marvel rather than complain that I was not told sooner.
There is something wonderfully paradoxical about Our Lady of Fatima and the attempted assassination of Pope John Paul II. Modern man imagines revelation should remove mystery, but Fatima only deepened it. Three children were entrusted with visions too heavy for most adults to bear, while a pope struck down by bullets would later insist that one hand fired the gun and another hand guided it away from death.
The world saw chaos in St. Peter’s Square on May 13, 1981. John Paul II eventually saw providence.
That is the entire Christian drama in miniature.
The saints are not people who possess all the answers. They are people who gradually discover that God was present in events they originally misunderstood. The Blessed Mother at Fatima did not promise that history would become comfortable. She promised that grace would quietly accompany humanity through its terrors.
Chesterton once remarked that the riddles of God are more satisfying than the solutions of man. Indeed, the modern world suffers not because it has too much mystery, but because it has too little reverence for it.
John Paul II could not bear the full meaning of suffering when the shots were fired. The children of Fatima could not fully bear the meaning of the visions they received. I cannot fully bear the meaning of my own life while I am still living it.
But perhaps the Christian faith was never about possessing the whole story at once. It is about trusting that the Author knows how the story ends.
And that is enough to keep walking.
5. Actio — In Light of Laudato Si’ and Synodality
There has been a tragic rise in the number of migrants seeking to flee from the growing poverty caused by environmental degradation. They are not recognized by international conventions as refugees; they bear the loss of the lives they have left behind, without enjoying any legal protection whatsoever.
Instead, love should give rise to acts directly aimed at people that will create healthier and more just institutions and customs (cf. FT 186). In fact, FT dwells on the universal openness of love, since we all have the same Father. We are called to make daily efforts to expand our circle since “every brother or sister in need, when abandoned or ignored by the society in which I live, becomes an existential foreigner” (97). Indeed, I cannot “reduce my life to my relationship with a small group, even my own family; I cannot know myself apart from a broader network of relationships.” For loving couples too, “we find that our hearts expand as we step out of ourselves and embrace everyone” (89): love becomes a seed that grows until it “becomes a tree, so that the birds come and perch in its branches” (Mt 13:32)
Laudato Si’ reminds me that creation itself unfolds gradually. Seeds bear fruit in seasons. Trees endure winters before springs return. Even the Earth bears mysteries beneath the soil long before green shoots appear above it.
Action:
Synodality requires the same patience. I must resist demanding immediate clarity from the Church, from others, and even from God. To walk together means accepting that different people bear truth at different stages of understanding.
Today I will practice holy patience. I will listen more carefully before correcting. I will allow silence to remain silence without forcing quick answers. And when life feels unresolved, I will remember that even Christ told His disciples there were truths they could not yet bear.
6. Song Pairing 🎵
🎶 “Unanswered Prayers” — Garth Brooks🎵
“Unanswered Prayers” is a country song recorded by Garth Brooks, released in 1990 on his album No Fences. The ballad became one of Brooks’s signature hits, praised for its storytelling and emotional insight about gratitude and life’s unexpected paths.
Some of God’s greatest mercies are not the doors He opens, but the ones He quietly keeps shut until I become someone able to understand why.
7. Movie Pairing 🎬
🎬Movie: FATIMA (2020)
Fatima reminds me that Heaven rarely explains itself all at once. It speaks in mysteries that only become bearable through faith, suffering, and time.
8. Poetic Verse
I asked God once to explain my life. Instead He handed me a lantern.
Not enough light for the whole road— only enough for the next step.
