An Unexpected Dwelling
- CFR Sisters
- 11 minutes ago
- 5 min read
St. Francis had a heart that remembered the Lord’s work in His life. He remembered the ways the Lord had become present and known to him. He recalled what the Lord had given him. Everything, Francis knew, came from the hands of God…even what at first “seemed much too bitter.” This “little poor man” from Assisi remembered that the presence of God was even hidden there.
“When I was in sin, it seemed much too bitter for me to see lepers.
But the Lord Himself led me among them.” (Testament of St. Francis)
It was to the very thing that Francis fled from, what he considered bitterly repulsive, which the Lord guided him to. Yet, our Lord did not simply point out the lepers to Francis, guiding him as one would when pointing the way to a tourist that is lost. No, “the Lord Himself led me among them,” said Francis. Christ was among the lepers. Christ was in them. Christ let Himself be encountered – let Himself be seen – by Francis in the very midst of bitterness and pain.
(One year Ago) Every ounce of my being recoiled from taking any form of action. What could I even do? The situation was totally over my head – an expert would be needed to deal with something as intense as this! “I need to be realistic,” I thought to myself. Still the very reality before me remained – a heartbroken mom was on the other end of the phone waiting for my response. In a blend of Spanish and an indigenous dialect, she had just said a sentence that I pray I never hear another mother utter again: “My son was shot…”
The story was hard for me to piece together. The confusion in her voice indicated to me that it was no clearer for her. She called us asking for prayers and to be accompanied. She didn’t ask for that accompaniment of course, but this was clearly why she was calling. She knew we’d listen. She knew we cared. She trusted us… “But what in the world can we do?” said my “realistic” thought. “Gang violence is no small thing – especially when those involved are barely sixteen.”
“Clara,” I said slowly and gently, “can we go to visit Marco in the hospital?” The words had no sooner come out of my mouth than my heart stopped. I was, in all honesty, afraid and felt utterly unprepared. Yet, I knew that God desired us to cross the threshold of that teen’s hospital room. Why? I could not have given you an answer with much conviction in that very moment, except for the fact that I knew God was calling us into that which “seemed much too bitter,” to encounter Him therein.
(St. Francis continues) “…But the Lord Himself led me among them. And I showed them mercy.And when I returned from them, that which to me had seemed bitter was
changed into sweetness of spirit and body.”
The bitter became sweet. The repulsive was welcomed. That which the soul and body of Francis fled from was instead embraced. Francis had discovered a hidden sweetness, a veiled Presence, an unexpected dwelling – and it held a purity and beauty. It held God.
As Sr. Colette and I entered, we were met by a gentle smile a few feet away from the hospital door. “Come in Sister. Thank you for caring to come.”, said a young voice.
Gentleness. Total gentleness is what we were met with. That was an adjective which certainly had not crossed my mind as an option to what we could encounter. Yet, that was the clearest attribute in this young soul: gentle. He was a gentle soul who was now shockingly aware of the darkness he had stepped into. He was afraid. He was longing to make different and better choices. He told us this with deep clarity and with a look of one searching for hope. It was tangible that he was searching for a sign of hope that would show him that the change he desired was actually possible and attainable.
Hope was his greatest need. St. Francis then came to my mind.
“Marco, you may remember the story from youth group…” I started out a bit timidly into the story of Franics’ early conversion. “…How on his way to battle, in hope of gaining honor and knighthood Francis had a dream. In it, he saw a room filled with armory and spoils from war. He thought ‘this is prophetic! I will have great honor and glory as a knight!’ But just then, a voice spoke to Him in the dream: ‘Francis who is it better to serve: a poor man or a rich man, a servant or a Lord?”
“It is so much better to serve the Lord.”
I was slightly startled that Marco had spoken up and “interrupted” the story. I was slightly startled and deeply moved. “Yes, exactly Marco …” I responded.
“And that is what St. Francis did. And the whole world is changed because He chose to follow the Lord. My life, the life of every sister, has been totally changed because of the life of St. Francis. God can change your life and work through your life just as he did in his.”
This wounded young man talking to me and Sr. Colette was not terribly different from St. Francis at the moment of his conversion. God had met that want-to-be knight in a similar circumstance. And though the rest of Marco ’s story remains to be written, I have no doubt that God was meeting him right where he was as well. It was God who was fighting for Marco to desire to change. It was God who was battling for the gift of hope to spring-up in his baptized heart. It was Christ, alive in Marco, who was calling him to move toward the good and true and beautiful. God was clearly at work in him.
God was present in that hospital room.
I thank God for the gift it was to encounter Him hidden there.
Sr. Rosa Ines, CFR
“…the Lord Himself led me among them. And I showed them mercy. And when I returned from them, that which to me had seemed bitter was changed into sweetness of spirit and body.”
“The true light that enlightens everyone was coming into the world.
He was in the world, the world had come into existence through Him,
yet the world did not recognize him…
to those who did accept him and who believed in his name
he granted the power to become children of God…
and the word become flesh and
dwelt among us.” (John 1:9-10, 12,14)
