With a bit of reflection, we might find it relatively easy to see how Jesus’ sufferings emulate our own crosses and trials, and to realize that He comprehends from experience the difficulties we go through.

 

The thorns on His head might relate to our migraines, for example, and the weight of His cross to our difficult manual labors, our aching joints and our exhaustion. 

 

But Jesus’ Passion relates also to the trials we may experience through a long, slow, frustrating decline of abilities — even though His long-ago Passion did not last for months and years.

 

Adrienne von Speyr in her book, “Confession,” provides a marvelous description how this can be. Her thoughts might provide us with some peace. 

 

“The Mount of Olives is contemplation again,” von Speyr says, describing Jesus as He prays in the garden “no longer with an eye toward action or to acquire the strength for the right activity, but rather a contemplation leading into death, a relinquishing of all active energy to the Father for the sake of being able to suffer as the Father wishes and of being undisturbed in His sufferings by the power and thoughts of action.” (Note that the Garden of Gethsemane is described online as an urban garden located at the foot of the Mount of Olives, in Jerusalem.)

 

For those of us who have a well-developed work ethic, slowing down at any age is unlikely to be part of our vision for the future. This is true especially if our families held the concept of a “good worker” in high esteem, perhaps over other valuable characteristics of good men and women.

 

But even those of us who sit at work and are otherwise not inclined to go looking for activities that use energy will feel a great sense of loss should we ever experience physical restrictions from a lengthy illness or injury that is not anticipated to heal or even improve.

 

As with most everything, however, Jesus is the way and the goal is heaven for our bigger future. Jesus’ Mount of Olives beginning of tears and pleas led Him finally to acceptance. That process provided a different kind of strength to our Lord, helping Him to travel through the cross to His resurrection. 

 

I spoke once with an Observer customer who was cancelling her subscription because her eyesight had diminished to where she was unable to read or watch television or see much more than fuzzy colors. Somehow this lovely lady had the best attitude about that huge loss in her life, peacefully saying something to the effect that God apparently didn’t require her to see much anymore — and that was okay. I’ve never forgotten her even though we never met and communicated only briefly in that one phone call.

 

We can hope to reach such a point of acceptance of all that God sends, but we might expect first to go through our own “agony in the garden,” working like Jesus did to relinquish “all active energy to the Father” until we become “undisturbed ... by the power and thoughts of action.”

 

Acceptance is not exactly like resignation. We may become resigned to something we can’t change without tapping into our faith. But if we can begin to view our losses as coming to us from God, our approach can shift from a perhaps-depressed  resignation to a more positive acceptance — in the belief that God is in charge and will see us through.

 

Perhaps we’ll even decide to give our consent to our long and difficult trial. That kind of grace-filled act can lead us to the same strength provided to Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane.

 

With such a “yes” we take action as we offer our losses as offerings to God. Even in our physical forced-inactivity, we can be active from within, secretly yet powerfully choosing to believe in God and to trust His goodness, His love for us, and look forward to our larger future.

 

A depressed resignation makes us a victim of forces we can’t control. A faithful acceptance helps us be a participant, in hope and in love.