Time and Prayer

29th Sunday in Ordinary Time [C]

October 19, 2025

Luke 18:1-8

In the parable of the persistent widow and the unjust judge, Jesus gives us a clear command: “pray always without becoming weary.” He invites us to persevere, especially when God asks us to wait for an answer. But why does a loving Father, who knows our needs, allow this waiting?

This period of waiting is not a sign of God’s absence, but His profound love. Here are three reasons God may allow us to wait.

1. Time Heals and Purifies Our Prayers

Often, our initial prayers are born from intense emotion—grief, distress, or even anger. In our urgency, we can confuse our genuine needs with our selfish wants. We do not always know what is truly good for us.

God uses the gift of time to help us settle our hearts and purify our intentions. He reforms our prayers, transforming them from demands into dialogues, from pleas for personal gain into words of trusting surrender, from “Be it done according to my will.” to “Be it done to me according to Your will.”

2. Time Builds Essential Virtues

We live in a world of instant results, and we can carry this impatience into our relationship with God. When we don’t get what we want immediately, we can become restless and frustrated.

Waiting teaches us the true meaning of patience—which is not just the ability to wait, but the ability to keep a good attitude while waiting. As St. Francis de Sales reminds us, “Every one of us needs half an hour of prayer each day, except when we are busy… then we need an hour.” The more we patiently pray, the more recognize that many things are beyond our control. The more we patiently ask, the more we realize how powerless we are. Yet, though we are powerless, we are not helpless or hopeless since we are now relying ourselves on someone beyond us, God the creator of heavens and earth.

3. Time Deepens Our Intimacy with God

It is easy to treat God like a heavenly vending machine, focused solely on the gifts we seek. Waiting refocuses our attention from the gifts to the Giver.

The more time we spend in prayerful waiting, the more we seek to know God for who He is—not just as a wish-fulfiller, but as a loving Father. We begin to focus less on our list of needs and more on our relationship with Him. This is the heart of prayer, which St. Teresa of Ávila defined as “nothing else than being on terms of friendship with God.”

A Story of Purified Prayer:
A senior nun once shared how, as a young novice, she wanted to leave the convent to get a job and support her mother financially. Her prayers were consumed with this plan. Her spiritual director gently asked her: “Would leaving truly be the best help? Is God limited to only one way of providing?”

She began to change her prayers. She stopped telling God what to do and started entrusting her mother entirely to His care. In time, relatives and friends came forward to support her mother, and she found the peace to persevere in her vocation. This simple story shows how God uses time to purify our prayers and draw us closer to Himself.

Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

Guide Questions for Personal Reflection:

  • Do I pray? Is there a consistent, daily space for God in my life?
  • How do I pray? Is my prayer a list of requests, or is it a conversation that includes listening?
  • How long do I pray? Do I give up when an answer isn’t immediate?
  • What do I ask from God? Are my prayers focused on my will, or on seeking to understand His?
  • How do I react when I don’t get what I prayed for? Does it lead to doubt, or to a deeper trust in His wisdom?
  • Do I ask for grace? Do I pray not just for specific outcomes, but for the strength, peace, and trust to endure the wait?

True Faith

27th Sunday in Ordinary Time [C]

October 5, 2025

Luke 17:5-10

Faith is a powerful act. Our Lord teaches that with faith even as small as a mustard seed, we could command a mulberry tree to be uprooted and planted in the sea. Yet, He also reminds us that faith alone is not enough. It must be accompanied by another essential virtue. What is that?

In simple terms, faith is an act of trust in God and in His Son, Jesus Christ. Throughout history, believers have experienced its tremendous, miraculous power. Through faith in Jesus, many find healing—both physical and psychological—even from incurable diseases. Through faith, countless people have life-transforming experiences, discovering profound meaning and joy. Through faith, many receive spiritual gifts, including extraordinary ones like healing and prophecy.

Despite this earth-shaking power, our Lord reminds us that we are ultimately God’s “servants.” Faith does not make us masters; it opens our eyes to the truth of our identity. If we believe in an almighty Creator, then we are His creatures. An unbridgeable gap exists between us: God is everything, and we are nothing. And yet, He loves us so immensely that He gave His only Son to save us and bring us into communion with Himself. This realization, driven by faith, leads us directly to humility.

The word “humility” comes from the Latin humus, meaning “soil” or “ground.” It is the realization that we are nothing and undeserving—we are, in a sense, “dirt.” Yet, God loves us unconditionally. Humility places faith in its proper context, reminding us that even our faith is a gift from God.

In fact, faith without humility is dangerous. Satan and the evil spirits have a kind of “faith”—they know with certainty that God exists and that they owe their power to Him. But without humility, they refuse to obey and serve. Ultimately, they fall.

Without humility, we risk self-deception. We might think our “great faith” makes us superior to others. While the gifts of faith are real, they can trap us into pride. Without humility, we may also treat faith as a bargaining chip, believing that if we have enough, we can control God to get what we want.

With humility, however, faith truly saves. We receive baptism from the Church and this act of humility means recognizing salvation as a gratuitous, unmerited God’s gift. We receive Holy Communion from the priest’s hand, and this act of humility means acknowledging that we need God to feed our hungry, weak souls. We Confess to God’s representative, and this act of humility means accepting that however broken we are, God still loves us and wants to heal us. Humility allows our faith to move us to love God deeply, as we fully recognize the abundance of His love for us.

Rome
Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP


Guide Questions

  1. How do we understand faith? Is it a belief in the truth about God? An emotional attachment? Or a commitment to live according to His will?
  2. How do we understand humility? Is it simply a lack of self-confidence? Or is it the profound realization of God’s immense love for us, even in our smallness?

The Nameless Rich Man

26th Sunday in Ordinary Time [C]

September 28, 2025

Luke 16:19-31

The story of Lazarus and the Rich man does not only have a lot of lessons we can learn and imitate, but it also reveals the truth about our salvation. What are those?

1. The Plot Twist

The story of Lazarus and the rich man demonstrate Jesus’ wisdom as both a storyteller and a teacher. Most would assume the rich man is the protagonist, as his material wealth was seen as a sign of God’s favour. Conversely, Lazarus, in his poverty and sickness, would be viewed as a loser, suffering from divine disfavour. Yet, Jesus delivers a shocking twist that challenged his original Jewish audience and continues to challenge us today. In the end, the rich man, despite his extreme wealth, cannot save himself, while Lazarus, the poor man, receives God’s mercy and rests in the bosom of Abraham.

2. Not Just About Wealth

However, a deeper look reveals that Jesus is not simply condemning the rich and glorifying the poor. The rich man loses his salvation not merely because of his wealth, which can be a blessing from God when used as a means to an end. The core of his failure is his selfishness. He is depicted wearing expensive purple garments and feasting sumptuously every night, yet he chooses to ignore the desperately poor man at his gate. Despite having more than enough capacity to help, he closes his eyes, focusing only on his own pleasure.

Similarly, poverty alone does not automatically grant Lazarus a place with Abraham. The poor are also susceptible to sin, such as stealing or manipulation. Yet, Lazarus is described as one who “gladly” received the scraps from the rich man’s table. He refused to use his poverty as an excuse for sin, instead choosing gratitude for the little he had.

3. The Nameless Rich Man

Among the story’s three major characters, only one is left nameless: the rich man. Abraham, whose name means “father of many nations,” receives Lazarus, whose name is a Latinized form of the Hebrew “Eliazer,” meaning “My God is my helper.” This small detail is significant, illustrating a profound truth: we become what we love.

The rich man loved his wealth so dearly that he lost his unique identity, becoming known simply by his material status. He defined himself by his luxurious garments and lavish lifestyle. In contrast, Lazarus and Abraham loved God. The more they loved Him, the more they reflected His image, allowing their authentic, God-given identities to shine. Lazarus lived as one dependent on God’s help, and Abraham as a father to many nations. The more we love earthly things, we are absorbed into them, and gradually losing ourselves, yet the more we love God, the more we become like God, and we become more authentic.

Lourdes, France

Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

Guide questions:

Do we love God more than anything? What are things that prevent us from loving God? What are God-given missions in this life? Do we care for our unfortunate brothers and sisters around us?

The Cross that Heals

Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross

September 14, 2025

John 3:13-17

The cross is a universal symbol of Christianity. People wear it as jewelry, like necklaces, rings, and earrings, either as a sign of devotion or simply as fashion. Churches and other Christian buildings are often crowned with its shape. Yet, despite its familiarity, the profound history and meaning of the cross can often be overlooked.

Historically, the cross was not a sacred symbol but a tool of terror. Crucifixion was a Roman method of execution designed for criminals and rebels. The condemned person was stripped naked, nailed to a wooden beam, and left to die a slow, public death exposed to the elements and humiliation. It was the ultimate symbol of human cruelty. This is the torture Jesus endured.

Yet, Jesus did not escape His cross. He embraced it. Through His resurrection, He transformed the cross from an instrument of torture into an instrument of God’s mercy and healing. In the Gospel, Jesus Himself draws a typological connection between His cross and the bronze serpent raised by Moses. Just as those who looked at the bronze serpent were healed, all who look to Jesus’ cross with faith will be saved.

This leads to the essential question: how does the cross heal us?

First, it heals through love. When we look at the cross, we see the ultimate proof of God’s love: He sent His only Son to offer Himself as a sacrifice to reconcile us to Himself. As St. Paul writes, “But God proves his love for us in that while we still were sinners Christ died for us” (Rom 5:8). We receive this healing from sin primarily through Baptism and the Sacrament of Reconciliation. Every sin wounds our soul and separates us from God; the cross stands as a permanent call to repent and return to Him.

Second, it heals through God’s presence. The cross shows us that God is not a distant deity, remote from our pain. He chose to become one of us, to share in our human experience with all its suffering. On the cross, Jesus embraced the worst of human agony, demonstrating that when we unite our sufferings with His, our own crosses can be transformed. They can become a divine means of healing and grace.

When suffering hits us, it is easy to complain and despair. But the cross reminds us we are not alone. Just as Jesus used His suffering to become a blessing for the world, we too can offer our own pains to God and become a source of strength and compassion for others.

St. Francis of Assisi once sought glory as a knight. After being captured in battle and becoming seriously ill, he recovered physically but still felt a spiritual emptiness. Everything changed while he was praying in a broken-down chapel. He had a vision of Jesus on the cross, who said to him, “Francis, go and repair my house, which is falling into ruin.” This moment gave Francis the true healing he needed, helping him discover who he was and what he was meant to do, to be God’s instrument of peace and healings.

Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

Guide questions:

What are our crosses in our lives? How do Jesus’ cross heal us? How? Do we become the means of God’s healing for others also? How?

To Hate and To Love

23rd Sunday in Ordinary Time [C]

September 7, 2025

Luke 14:25-33

We now encounter one of Jesus’ most challenging statements: He demands that we “hate” our parents, siblings, and even our own children. How are we to understand this hard saying?

To find the answer, we must consider three key elements: Jesus’ full statement, the meaning of the word “hate,” and the broader context of Jesus’ life and mission.

  1. The Full Statement
    First, we need to read the entire sentence. Jesus said, “If anyone comes to me without hating his father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple.” This is not a general command for everyone, but a specific condition addressed to those who wish to become His true followers.
  • The Biblical Meaning of “Hate”
    The word “hate” here (from the Greek μισέω – miseo) does not imply a feeling of strong aversion or enmity. In the Bible, this word often carries a comparative meaning: “to love less” or “to disfavor” in order to show preferential treatment to something else (see Genesis 29:31, Deuteronomy 21:15-16, Luke 16:13). In this context, Jesus is demanding that His followers make Him their absolute top priority. He is not asking us to detest our families, but to love Him so much that all other loves—even for our own lives—seem like hatred by comparison. A simpler way to phrase it is: Unless we love Jesus more than everything and everyone else, we cannot be His disciples.
  • The Broader Context
    Finally, we must remember that Jesus was speaking as He walked toward Jerusalem, where He would face His Passion and death on the cross. To follow Him meant to share in His suffering. This is only possible if a disciple prioritizes Jesus above all else. We see this exemplified in figures like Mary, His mother, who refused to hide but stood firmly at the foot of the cross, sharing in His agony. Other disciples, like John and Mary Magdalene, also followed Him to the very end, demonstrating this ultimate priority.


This teaching remains true for us today. To follow Jesus to the end requires loving Him above all. While not everyone is called to physical martyrdom like St. Ignatius of Antioch who was fed to the lions or St. Francis de Capillas was tortured and killed when he preached Jesus in China, every disciple is called to make Jesus the central priority of their life.

This doesn’t mean we must pray every second of the day. Instead, it means making daily decisions that reflect our love for Jesus and our desire to please God. This can be as simple as: Choosing to avoid sin and vice; Refusing to be a stumbling block for others; Prioritizing Sunday Mass, even while on vacation; Gently inviting family members to know Jesus more.

Loving Jesus is a conscious, daily decision to choose what strengthens our holiness and deepens our relationship with Him.

Surabaya

Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

Reflection Questions:

How do I concretely show my love for Jesus in my daily routine? Do my actions and words encourage others to love Jesus? Could my behavior be making it difficult for someone else to approach Jesus?

Honor and Holiness

22nd Sunday in Ordinary Time [C]

August 31, 2025

Luke 14:1,7-14

Honor is a fundamental concept that defines our humanity. It guides our behaviors and conduct, and in extreme cases, can compel people to die or even kill others.

Defining “honor” is challenging because it is deeply embedded in both our individual and communal identities. It refers to the ideals that we as humans, holds dear, such as loyalty, bravery, honesty, hardworking and moral integrity. While these values may vary across cultures, some are universally acknowledged and admired. Honor is earned when others recognize our efforts to achieve these difficult ideals. For example, a student may be honored with a medal for their hard-earned academic achievements.

The pursuit of honor is, therefore, a pursuit of our highest ideals, a striving for greatness that makes us more fully human. Conversely, dishonor signifies a failure to uphold these values. We are dishonored when we betray someone, whom we pledge our loyalty or cowardly avoid difficulty. Some societies value honor so deeply that they see a dishonorable life, like one of dishonesty, unfaithfulness, and cowardice, as worse than an animal’s existence. During World War II, many Japanese soldiers and civilians chose suicide over the shame of capture or coming home in defeat.

As our Lord, Jesus understood that honor is fundamental to humanity. Yet, He also recognized how sin can corrupt and twist it. In the Gospel, Jesus criticized those who sought places of honor without striving for the ideals they represent. Jesus taught that the true value of a seat at the banquet is not its prominence, but the virtuous life of the person sitting in it. More importantly, He called us to pursue true ideals and reject corrupt values, introducing humility as a virtue that earns genuine honor.

Jesus’ criticism of the Pharisees is timeless and profoundly relevant today. In postmodern societies, we often replace “the seat of honor” with superficial markers like clothing, cars, and bank accounts. While possessions are not inherently bad, they become harmful when we treat them as our standard of honor, and in the process, we sacrifice true ideals like honesty and loyalty to gain them. Spousal fidelity was once highly honored, but now some cultures praise promiscuity. We once lauded hard work, but now often celebrate only results, even if achieved through deceit.  To follow Jesus is to continually examine our ideals. It means rejecting those that do not lead to human flourishing and embracing those that foster genuine growth. Jesus, our Lord, wants nothing but our holistic growth as humans that eventually brings us into the fullness of human life and holiness.


Guide Questions:

What ideals do we strive for? Are they conducive to our development as humans? Do we feel shame when we fail to achieve our ideals or when we sin? Do we teach our children what it means to have a true sense of honor?

What is Faith?

19th Sunday in Ordinary Time

August 10, 2025

Hebrew 11:1-2, 8-19

The author of the Letter to the Hebrews gives us a profound definition of faith: “Now faith is the foundation of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen” (Hebrews 11:1-2). But what does this truly mean?

Faith as a Firm Foundation

The Greek word used for “foundation” is ὑπόστασις (hupostasis), which literally means “that which stands underneath.” This tells us that faith is not a fleeting emotion or a momentary burst of belief. It is not something can instantly be produced through loud music or strong screams. Instead, it is a steady, unshakable confidence in God’s promises. Faith anchors us, giving substance to what we hope for even when we cannot yet see it.

Faith as Convincing Evidence

The author also describes faith as ἔλεγχος (elengkos), a term often used in legal contexts to refer to irrefutable proof. In a courtroom, verified evidence determines guilt or innocence. Similarly, faith serves as undeniable confirmation of spiritual realities we cannot perceive with our physical senses, our eyes, our ears, and our mouth. Though unseen, these realities are just as real because faith testifies to their truth.

Where Does Such Faith Come From?

But how can faith be so strong? How can it serve as both foundation and evidence? The answer lies in its source: faith does not originate from within us but from God’s faithfulness. The promises we hope for are not human wishes but divine guarantees. Since God is trustworthy, our faith rests on His unchanging commitment to fulfil His promises

Then, how do we know God is truly faithful? History proves it. The Old Testament is filled with stories of God keeping His word, and Hebrews highlights Abraham as a key example. At seventy-five, Abraham obeyed God’s call to leave his comfortable homeland for an unknown future and uncharted land. Despite his old age and Sarah’s barrenness, he believed God’s promise of descendants as numerous as the stars. Even when tested with the unthinkable, sacrificing his son Isaac, Abraham trusted God’s faithfulness that everything would turn just right. He died without seeing the full fulfilment, yet God’s promises came to pass.

The Ultimate Fulfilment in Christ

Hebrews shows us that God’s faithfulness, demonstrated through generations, culminates in Jesus Christ. He is the final and fullest expression of God’s promises. He was born like us humans, suffered and died for us, and resurrected. Our faith, therefore, is not only built on emotions or human reasoning but on historical acts of God, proven in the lives of believers before us and sealed in Christ. Faith is more than simple belief. It is trust in the One who has never failed. And because God is faithful, we can stand firm, even when the path ahead is unseen.

Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

Reflection Questions

  • How do we understand faith? Is it merely an emotional feeling, a product of logic, or a personal encounter with God?
  • Have we faced moments of doubt or a crisis of faith? How did we overcome them?
  • How does recognizing God’s faithfulness in Scripture strengthen our trust in Him today?

Vanity of vanities

18th Sunday in Ordinary Time [C]

August 3, 2025

Ecclesiastes 1:2; 2:21-23

“‘Vanity of vanities!’ says Qoheleth. ‘Everything is vanity!’ (Ecclesiastes 1:2; 12:8).” What does this striking declaration mean? Is every human endeavor truly meaningless?

The voice behind this book introduces himself as Qoheleth—a Hebrew term meaning “one who gathers people,” especially for the purpose of teaching. Thus, it is often translated as “the Teacher” or “the Preacher.” He identifies himself as a son of David and king over Jerusalem (1:1), a figure endowed with unparalleled wisdom, power, and wealth. Yet from this privileged vantage point, after a lifetime of reflection, he delivers a sobering verdict: Everything is hevel.

This Hebrew word hevel (הֶבֶל) carries rich imagery—it describes vapor, a passing breeze, or a fleeting breath. Like mist dissolving at dawn, hevel represents what is transient, elusive, and ultimately unsatisfying. Qoheleth’s metaphor of “chasing after the wind” (1:14) paints a vivid picture of humanity’s restless striving for what cannot be grasped.

His exploration begins with wisdom itself. He recounts how he pursued knowledge relentlessly, surpassing all who came before him (1:16). Yet instead of fulfilment, he found that greater wisdom only multiplied sorrow (1:18). This seems paradoxical—don’t we assume learning brings clarity and peace? Qoheleth exposes the limits of earthly wisdom: the more we know, the more we confront life’s unanswerable questions and our own mortality.

Pleasure fares no better. He tests every delight—luxuries, arts, sensual joys (2:1–11)—only to conclude their thrill is momentary. Wealth and achievements prove equally hollow. No one takes riches to the grave; heirs may squander them, and even the greatest legacies fade from memory. Death, the great equalizer, renders all human distinctions meaningless (2:14–16; 9:2–6).

Amid this stark realism, Qoheleth anchors his readers to one unchanging truth: “Fear God and keep His commandments, for this is the whole duty of humanity” (12:13). In a world where everything slips like sand through our fingers, God alone endures. Our purpose is found not in accumulating what is temporary but in aligning our lives with His eternal will.

However, Qoheleth’s perspective remains earthbound. He grapples with life “under the sun” but offers no explicit hope beyond the grave. Death, for him, seems a silent frontier (3:19–20; 9:5–6). It is Jesus who later brings this tension into full resolution. In the parable of the rich fool (Luke 12:13–21), Christ echoes Qoheleth’s warning against clinging to earthly treasures but expands it with the promise of eternity. Thus, what we do and we have now have meaning because in Christ, they prepare us for an everlasting destiny.

Reflection Questions:

How does Qoheleth’s perspective challenge modern assumptions about success and purpose? In what ways have we experienced the “vanity” of pursuits that once seemed essential? How does Jesus’ teaching on eternal life transform the way we engage with temporary things?

The Crisis of Fatherhood

17th Sunday in the Ordinary Time [C]

July 27, 2025

Luke 11:1-13

Many societies today face a silent yet deeply dangerous crisis: the crisis of fatherhood. But what exactly is this crisis, and how can we confront it?

At its core, the crisis of fatherhood reflects a reality where countless children grow up without an authentic father figure. Some fathers are physically absent; others are emotionally distant or fail to model the virtues their children desperately need. Meanwhile, modern culture—through films, advertisements, video games, and media—often portrays men as either violent villains or bumbling, indecisive figures. Rarely are they depicted as loving, responsible leaders.

This erosion of fatherhood is unravelling the fabric of society. Studies consistently show that children raised without engaged fathers face higher risks of drug and alcohol abuse, mental illness, poor academic performance, teen pregnancy, and criminal behavior. The consequences are profound and far-reaching for our societies.

So how do we address this crisis? There are no easy solutions, but we can begin by turning to Jesus. In the face of this global challenge, the prayer He taught His disciples, which we fondly call the Our Father, becomes more relevant than ever.

The most striking aspect of this prayer is how Jesus instructs us to address God. Though He is the Almighty Creator of heaven and earth, the God of the Old Testament, Jesus tells us not only to call Him “God,” but, He teaches us to say, “Our Father in heaven.” By using this intimate, human term, Jesus reveals a profound truth: God is not only infinitely powerful but also intimately close. He is not a distant, absent, and indifferent deity but a loving Father who provides, protects, and guides His children. As Deuteronomy 4:7 reminds us, He is near “whenever we call upon Him.”

Yet Jesus further clarifies that God is the Father in heaven. He is unlike earthly fathers, who are flawed and limited. God cares for us perfectly, giving sunshine and rain to both the just and the unjust (Mat 5:45). Even in suffering, His ways may seem mysterious, but His fatherly wisdom is at work even in the midst of trials. Ultimately, His deepest desire is for us to dwell with Him in heaven (1 Tim 2:3-4). As Jesus declares in John 3:16, “For God so loved the world that He gave His only Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have eternal life.” The Father values us, His adopted children, so deeply that He sent His Son to be human like us to bring us home.

Every time we pray “Our Father,” we affirm two truths: First, despite our imperfections, we have a perfect Father who loves us unconditionally. Second, this prayer calls us—especially men—to reflect His goodness. It challenges us to grow from immaturity and irresponsibility into the kind of men who embody His love, dedication, and strength.

Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

Guide Questions: How do we relate to our fathers? What lessons have we learned from them? Are we becoming good fathers (or role models) to the next generation? How does recognizing God as “Father” transform our relationship with Him?

Rejoice in Sufferings


16th Sunday in Ordinary Time [C]

July 20, 2025

Colossians 1:24-28

Suffering is an unavoidable part of human existence. Across religions and philosophies, people have sought to explain its purpose. Yet, what is the Christian view about sufferings? How is it different from other views?

 Some view suffering as divine punishment for wrongdoing, implying that those who suffer must be guilty and sinners. Others dismiss it as an illusion, urging total detachment. Some attribute it to karma, the result of bad actions in the previous lives. While others see it as meaningless, something to avoid at all costs.

But what does Christianity teach about suffering? How does our perspective differ? The Old Testament grapples with this question, particularly in the Book of Job. Job was a righteous and sinless man, yet he endured immense suffering. Why? The Book reveals that sufferings is not a punishment, but part of God’s mysterious plan to refine his faith. This challenges the simplistic idea that suffering is always a consequence of sin.

In the New Testament, St. Paul offers a radical perspective. He writes, “I rejoice in my sufferings” (Col 1:24). At first glance, this seems astonishing—how can anyone rejoice in pain? Job of the Old Testament lamented his suffering, yet Paul expresses gratitude. Was Paul a masochist, someone who takes pleasures in pain?

Far from it. To understand, we must read his full statement: “Now I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh, I complete what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions for the sake of His body, the church.” Paul bore a lot sufferings for the sake of Christ, and His Church. He experienced beatings, imprisonment, hunger, and betrayal. Yet he saw his suffering not as meaningless, but as a way of sharing in Christ’s own redemptive suffering. Indeed, Jesus endured an extremely painful suffering and horrifying death on the cross, yet through His divine love, Jesus transformed these sufferings into a way of salvation.

Jesus’ crucifixion was the perfect sacrifice, which was completely sufficient for salvation. However, the Church, the body of Christ, continues to suffer because she still journeys in the world and walks in the way of Jesus’ cross. Jesus had warned His followers that they would face persecution for His name (Mt 10:38; Jn 15:20; Acts 9:16). Then, Paul had a choice: blame God for his suffering, or see it as an opportunity to perfect the suffering of the Church. Paul chose the latter, and offered his suffering as a means of blessing for the people in Colossae.

Some suffering results from our own mistakes, but often, we endure trials beyond our control. In those moments, we have a choice: to resent God or to embrace suffering as a share in Christ’s cross. When we unite our pain with His, it becomes more than just hardship: it becomes a path to holiness, a means of grace for ourselves and others.

Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

Guide Questions:

What sufferings are we facing today? How do we perceive them? How do we respond to them – with anger, despair, or trust? Do we see our struggles as part of Christ’s redemptive work?