In a Prison Cell as Well

Revisiting the Hiding Place

I am appreciating more than ever the Refuge we have available to us in this torn, aching, wounded world.  If we don't realize that parts of our planet and our civilization are in great distress just now, we have been living under a rock.

Yet in the midst of troubling news, moral confusion, and input from a world going mad, we really do have a Rock to live in and on and under. Jesus is our Rock, our Refuge.  He is our Hiding Place, our fortress, our one true cloister.

I see the truth of this when I consider so many saints gone before us... martyrs who much preferred death to the possibility of turning away from Christ.  What grace they received - exactly when they needed it.  This gives me hope.

In Acts 16, for instance, we read of Paul and Silas thrown into jail after having been given many lashes.  Their feet were chained to a stake.  I can imagine myself there, whining and grumbling and feeling sorry for myself.   But were Paul and Silas wailing, angry, groaning?  No.  They were praying and singing hymns to God.

And consider St. Ignatius of Antioch, as he was on his way to be fed to lions.  "Leave me to the beasts," he wrote, "that through them I may be accounted worthy of God.  I am the wheat of God, and by the teeth of the beasts I shall be ground, so that I may be found the pure bread of God.  Greatly provoke the wild beasts so that they may be my grave and leave nothing of my body, so that I won't be a burden on anyone.  Then I will truly be a disciple of Jesus Christ."    

What grace!  The same grace that was given to St. Stephen as he was being stoned.   The same grace (we can believe it) that is offered to people undergoing persecution for Christ today. 

I see Stephen as a perfect patron for those of us who strive to view life "through the grille." If anyone ever saw and responded to circumstances in such a way,  it was he.  Even as his persecutors were preparing to kill him, he boldly exclaimed "'Look!... I see an opening in the sky, and the Son of Man standing at God's right hand."

I am sure this acute view of reality buffered the saint's agony as stones were hurled at him.  "As he was being stoned, he could be heard praying, 'Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.'  He fell to his knees and cried out in a loud voice, 'Lord, do not hold this sin against them.'"  (Acts 7:54, 59, 60) 

"The cloistered heart."  I wrote some years ago, "is the heart of David dancing before the ark; of Mesach, Shadrach and Abednego in the fiery furnace; of Paul in prison, Daniel in the lions’ den, John on Patmos, Peter in chains.  The world is not safe from evil – even the body isn’t safe from harm – but within the cloistered heart there is refuge.  The Lord is with me, He is within my cloister.  My heart, as long as He is in it, is safe." 

I must remember this.  In the madness all around, I must remember.

Within the cloistered heart there is refuge.  The Lord Himself is with me.

My heart, as long as He is in it, is safe.

Text not in quotes © N Shuman 
thecloisteredheart.org

This is a slightly edited repost from our archives. It is linked to Theology is a Verb and Reconciled to You for 'It's Worth Revisiting Wednesday.'
 

You are Mad, You Are Not Like Us

"Men will surrender to the spirit of the age. They will say that if they had lived in our day, faith would be simple and easy. But in their day, they will say, things are complex; the Church must be brought up to date and made meaningful to the day's problems.

"When the Church and the world are one, then those days are at hand because our Divine Master placed a barrier between His things and the things of the world.

"A time is coming when men will go mad, and when they see someone who is not mad, they will attack him saying, 'you are mad, you are not like us.'"

St. Anthony of the Desert

Painting: The Christian Martyrs' Last Prayer

The Grille Works Both Ways

I realized something today.

The grille works both ways.

When we speak of seeing and responding to every person and every situation through the "grillwork of the will of God," we're not talking about hiding behind a one-way mirror. Ours is usually hidden "grillwork," yes, and we can love God with all our hearts without calling a lot of attention to that fact.

But the grille works both ways. Not only do we see others through it; they can see us "through it" as well. Oh, they don't see our faces criss-crossed, and we generally look just like everyone else TO everyone else.  But if we're interacting with the world "through the will of God," sooner or later our point of view is going to show.

My realization occurred when I saw (again) the symbol now being used by some as a sign of solidarity with persecuted Christians. I considered what it would take to boldly proclaim "I am a follower of Jesus Christ" when facing an executioner.  I will not deny Him, I cannot follow other gods, I live for Jesus, I am firmly and forever Christian... could I make such proclamations? I like to think so.

But wait. Do I, in my comfortable everyday life, ever downplay or hide the fact that I'm Christian? Do I sometimes, with some people, feel embarrassed about my love of God / stance on life issues / stance on moral issues? Do I fear ridicule, teasing, arguments, being called a holy roller or a holier-than-thou?  Am I ever hesitant to wear a cross, or to hang a crucifix on the wall of my home? Am I concerned that others will think I'm not politically correct?

A woman entering a fully cloistered monastery gets past these issues. She has to. She will interact with family and friends through the grille for the rest of her life, and she'll always be recognized (instantly) as a follower of Jesus. Those meeting her will not forget that she's a Christian; they'll be reminded every time they see her through the bars. She has decided to live for God and to allow others to see her doing so.

When I stand up for Scripture and authentic Church teaching, I'm allowing myself to be seen as a dedicated follower of Christ. I am standing in genuine solidarity with my Christian brothers and sisters throughout the world. I am saying, in effect, that Jesus is my Lord and Savior, and I'm willing to let the whole wide world know that. I choose to live inside the grillwork of the will of God.

The grille works both ways.  


Photo: Klausurgitter der Visitandinnen, in US public domain due to age. Digitally altered for color.

He Found the View

St. Stephen was a man filled with faith and the Holy Spirit.   He was chosen to be a waiter of tables, thus freeing the apostles to spread the word of God.  I'm sure he felt deeply honored to be called into a servant's role.   

I, too, am called to be a servant.  Honored to be so?  I'm working on that part.  There have been times when I've felt like "waiting tables" has actually been my sole occupation, on those days when cleaning up from one meal merged right into preparing another.  I would have done well, when my children were small and it seemed I was always "feeding," to have thought about the service of Stephen.  As it was, I simply knew of him as a martyr.

Reading Acts 6 and 7 today, I found a number of things to love about Stephen.  He was deeply spiritual and prudent, he spoke with wisdom; and when he was falsely accused, his face "seemed like that of an angel."  He fearlessly spoke the truth of God, and those who listened were stung to the heart (Acts 7:54).  But did they repent?  It appears not, for they ground their teeth in anger.

And then, as we know, they stoned him.

What does this have to do with living as a cloistered heart?  I would say:  pretty much everything.

I am particularly struck by two main things about St. Stephen.  First:  he was willing to humbly serve by waiting on tables.  At the same time, he fed spiritually, freely sharing the truth of Christ.

Second:  If anyone ever "viewed and responded to circumstances 'through the grille,'" it was Stephen.  Even as his persecutors were grinding their teeth at him, he boldly exclaimed "'Look!... I see an opening in the sky, and the Son of Man standing at God's right hand."  I am sure this acute view of reality buffered the saint's agony as stones were hurled at him.  "As he was being stoned, he could be heard praying, 'Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.'  He fell to his knees and cried out in a loud voice, 'Lord, do not hold this sin against them.'"  (Acts 7:54, 59, 60)

What a way to meet one's Maker. 

I have never had stones thrown at me - not physically, anyway.  But smirks and arguments and snubs for living and speaking the truth of God?  O course.  This has probably happened to all of us.  Even Jesus told us to expect nothing less.  "You will be hated by all on account of Me."  (Matthew 10:22)

When I feel the sting of tiny "she's a religious fanatic" pebbles... from neighbors or relatives or associates of any kind... I hope to remember Stephen.  I ask this great saint to pray for us.

I feel that in St. Stephen, we have another cloistered heart patron.  May he help each of us find the view through the grille. 

Painting:  St. Stephen the Martyr, Vincenzo Foppa, 1500s

© 2012 Nancy Shuman.  All Rights Reserved.
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