The Sound of His Voice

"Come and see."


These were the words Jesus spoke in last Sunday’s gospel--His response when the apostles first encountered Jesus and asked where He was going.

Our priest shared that praying on this passage had led to his vacation, and invited us to try too. “Ask Jesus where He is going and meditate on His response to come and see.”

It's no secret that I'm a sucker for some good Ignatian meditation, and I brightened at the idea, thinking of all the ways Jesus might be calling me.

Sinking to my knees after communion, I immediately went to my imagination—watching Jesus approach, feeling the possibility of adventure, the magnetic pull to follow. Where are we going? I sang out in my heart. 

Where do You want to lead?

The Two words that returned shook me from my prayerful, hope-filled reverie:

“To Calvary.”

Calvary? 

I recoiled in fear, grasping to qualify it with some strand of hope—what was that my friend always said? “From the cross always comes redemption?” 

Yes, that must be what God was trying to tell me.

But in my heart, oh the reality. “NO!” I screamed wildly before turning to bolt. I ran myself ragged to the furthest corner of my heart where for the rest of the week I hid my face, refusing to look up while He waited calmly, patiently. “How could you?!” my heart accused. “I’ve been there with You—for You—so many times. Why again? Why now?!” 

Still I hid. Still He waited.

Then one late night, body contorted in pain and drained of my last tear, fighting for relief and searching for distraction, I scrolled across this image and stopped cold.

It was an image from the new Blessed is She Journaling Bible, the same one I'd been recently pouring through, housing one hand-lettered verse per book of the Bible. But this one I hadn't seen yet. A member of the community shared that in a time of need, she'd been reading through parts of the Bible, and as she closed it, it fell back open to this very page. She said she'd decided to share it in case someone else might need to see it too.

And there I was curled in a ball of pain in my bed, soul groaning out prayers I didn't even know how to articulate, darkness masking the mess of salty rivers dried on my cheeks. And in that moment, I knew God knew that someone else was me. In all my running, He'd still found a way to personally pursue me and reassure me of His goodness, His Love, His healing.

I’d tried to run from Calvary, imagining a future full of Even Worse Things, but hadn’t considered that maybe I was already there. Maybe I’d been there faithfully so many times for Him, and the Rescuer was now the one faithfully accompanying me. 

I didn’t trust, because I feared. 

But maybe He was indeed asking me to open my eyes and see Him carrying freedom, matching every step with me on this final drive up the hill to healing. 

Clearly He knew that one assurance wasn't enough. As I held these tiny consolations, still edged with doubt, He made me aware of melody—a song I’d skipped by earlier that morning while driving, disliking the tune. But now it was back, floating through my head, and slowly the words swam into view:

...The Good Lord has come to seek and save

He’s our Rescuer...

So come and be chainless, Come and be fearless/

Come to the foot of Calvary/
There is redemption/ for every affliction /
Here at the foot of Calvary.
[Rend Collective]


"Come and See."