Oct 15

Oct 15 The Night I Met Jesus

L.M.C.

“Christ's Appearance to Mary Magdalene after the Resurrection” by Alexander Ivanov, 1836

I will never forget what Jesus has done for me, how He came to me one night as I lay sobbing, alone, in a fetal position by the toilet. It was the kind of experience documented throughout the Gospels, but I wasn’t sure happened to real people, today, and certainly not to me. And yet, by some undeserved grace, I had an encounter not unlike that of Mary Magdalene, Saul-turned-Paul, the sheep and the Good Shepherd. Mine was a conversion wrapped inside an ongoing miracle of grace and healing—just as real as I am, today.

At the time, I was 27—single, successful, restless. I lived by myself; I hated it. I couldn’t stand the nights and weekends alone, without people, without plans. The night I met Jesus was one such night. I had passed the lonely time as I usually did: 5-12 miles of running chased by an hour of yoga or strength training, then a tiny meal which evolved into a few hours of binge eating followed by a purge to evade the consequences. I had image problems, I had food problems, I had a lot of problems.

But my biggest problem was me, and the way I had lived for the last decade. The person I presented to the outer world was a façade—a shiny, thin layer of ice hiding a pothole. I went to Mass just so I could insist I was a good person. I was not, truly, a Catholic, or Christian, for I made no attempts at the necessary supporting behavior. I knew nothing of Jesus, of Infinite Love and Divine Mercy; I gave little thought to God, that dictator in the sky who had a lot of archaic rules but no personal interest in me, threatening to burn me forever for lack of adherence. I’d plead my case with that guy when I was dead, be sorry later, if it turned out necessary. And so, I lived my way: drinking bouts, continuous binging-purging-starving, violent overexercise, and other grave sins—the sexual evils of fornication, one-night stands, friends “with benefits,” contraception, solitary acts of lust only I knew about. The more I tried to appease that swelling, black-hole in my soul, the more it consumed me.

On the night I met Jesus, I had been trying to make myself vomit. It wasn't working; I didn’t know why. The food was refusing to come back up as it always did, as it had for years. After a good half-hour of attempts, I collapsed on the cold, tile floor by the toilet in a swamp of self-pity. By the world’s standards, I had a great life, but it wasn’t enough for me—I was never content. My soul was imploding; I could see no way out of my misery. I could not live in this black-hole anymore. I no longer wanted to exist.

And even though I was alone in the house, even though I knew no one would hear me, I screamed out loud, “I can't do this anymore—please, God, I don't want to do this anymore!”

I had not expected an answer.

But, by some undeserved grace, by some miracle of His Love, He responded, “Ok. Get up. Don’t do this anymore.”

I heard Him with my ears and my soul, at the same time. His voice was so real, so palpable, that I looked around the room. I found I was on my feet, standing, but I didn’t remember getting up. I could not see Him, but I was sure He was present. It was like I heard His voice on both the inside and outside of me; it had filled the entirety of the outer room, and the entirety of my inner being. The despair was gone. The desire to purge and not exist were gone. It was as if I were wrapped in a warm blanket of peace, suspended in His presence. This was not some auditory hallucination, for I was sober and fully lucid. I was absolutely certain Jesus had just spoken to me, changed something in me.

And time would confirm what I knew on that night: Jesus hadn’t just come to comfort me, He had come to fix something in my body and soul, something long-broken. I was suspended in Grace; mine was an ongoing miracle. For on that night, Jesus rescued me from a decade of binging, purging, starving and over-exercise. Since that night, I have been free of those behaviors and the disordered desires behind them.

Let me be perfectly clear: Jesus healed me, He cured me, He set free of my own sin and compulsion. It was not something some medicine or therapy, some decision or willpower. However good and helpful those things may be, they could never have gotten me to the point I am at today. For it was my soul which was sickest—warped and withered, apart from Him. It was the salve of His presence that I needed, more than anything. And this healing, this miracle, was not something I had earned or deserved, but precisely the opposite. For He pursues the sick: “And Jesus answered them, 'Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick; I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance” (Luke 5:31-32).

Could anyone remain unchanged by such an encounter? Perhaps others could; I could not. I wanted to be as close to Jesus, as possible. From then on, it was just as He said, “My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me; and I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish, and no one shall snatch them out of my hand” (John 10:27-28). For I was like the great sinners Mary Magdalene and Saul-turned-Paul: Jesus had spoken to me, rescued me, changed me forever. I could not go back to the black-hole of my lonely, God-less life. When He bid Mary to, “go, and do not sin again” (John 8:11), she gave up her life and followed Him. He bid me, “Ok. Get up. Don’t do this anymore,” and I did the same. His words were not some empty dictation, but a statement of healing, overflowing with Grace.

And this Grace was powerful enough to not only cure my food problems, but also convince me to do the necessary work in separating myself from my other grave sins. I did as Saul-turned-Paul instructs: “put off your old nature which belongs to your former manner of life and is corrupt through deceitful lusts, and be renewed in the spirit of your minds, and put on the new nature, created after the likeness of God in true righteousness and holiness” (Ephesians 4:22-24). I went to confession, that holy practice which bleaches the stains from the soul. I sought Him in prayer, in Mass, in adoration, in frequent reception of the Eucharist. These permitted Him the necessary space to work, to expand within my soul. For He wished to fill its black-hole with His presence, to claim that space as His own.

It seems obvious to me that my healing and return to the faith we, in some small part, expediated by the prayers of my parents and at least one godparent, and by those invisible, inseverable threads of grace leftover from my baptism. For thanks to my parents’ decision to baptize me as an infant, I had been claimed as one of His own, one of His sheep. And surely it was Jesus the Good Shepherd who came after me when I was lying on my side on the ground—hurt, lost, and bleating. For it was just as He said, “What man of you, having a hundred sheep, if he has lost one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness, and go after the one which is lost, until he finds it? And when he has found it, he lays it on his shoulders, rejoicing” (Luke 15:4). I had been lifted out of my misery by the hands of Jesus the Good Shepherd, set across His shoulders, carried there in the same manner He carried the cross. I mattered to Him—sin and all.

Let me be clear again: I am still a sinner. Jesus healed my food problems, but He did not strike me perfect, He did not remove my every defect and proclivity to sin. I remain a sinner, but I am not the same sinner. But my encounter with Jesus realigned the needle of my soul: I am intent on heaven, no longer content with Hell. My love for Him, though meager and mealy, is genuine. I try, in earnest, to do His will, to avoid offending Him and wounding others. I fail. I will forever need His help, His Divine Mercy; this is the beautiful mystery of life in Christ—we reach up and out for Him, and He bends down to us.

LUKE 15:1-7

Now the tax collectors and sinners were all drawing near to hear him. And the Pharisees and the scribes murmured, saying, “This man receives sinners and eats with them.”

So he [Jesus] told them this parable: “What man of you, having a hundred sheep, if he has lost one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness, and go after the one which is lost, until he finds it? And when he has found it, he lays it on his shoulders, rejoicing. And when he comes home, he calls together his friends and his neighbors, saying to them, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep which was lost.’ Just so, I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance.

John 8:10-12

Jesus looked up and said to her, “Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?” She said, “No one, Lord.” And Jesus said, “Neither do I condemn you; go, and do not sin again.”

Again Jesus spoke to them, saying, “I am the light of the world; he who follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.”