My Love Story with the Eucharistic Jesus – Part 2

I have been delaying getting this post live. This is the part of the story wherein I hurt the One who loves me quite seriously. Because of that it took me a while to write, and even longer to get back to edit and publish. But better late than never.

In my last post I mentioned that in high school one of my good friends was serving as a Eucharistic Minister. What I didn’t mention was that most of my closest friends were ALL chosen to be ministers. To serve in this ministry, students were selected from among the seniors by the chaplain’s office and other key staff.

I was not chosen and there went my pride.

As I look back, I understand why I was not chosen, but as I went into college, this wound to my pride was still raw. At the beginning of freshmen year of college, I attended one of those activity fairs to learn how to get involved at the school.

The chaplain’s office was seeking people to serve as Eucharistic Ministers. Well, well. Vindication was mine!

I went to the informational meeting, and we were asked to think about why we wanted to serve in this ministry. I don’t remember what I wrote down, but you can imagine what the underlying reason was – pride and vanity.

Even though my motivation was twinged by pride and vanity, there was good too. I know now that Jesus was actually calling me to this thing.

I really, really wanted to be involved in the church. I had this deep down desire to be holy and near holy things. I wanted to be a part of this club of holy people. So I guess I figured by volunteering, it would be my way in.

But here’s the thing – I didn’t understand the magnitude of responsibility of this job.

I would be literally holding Jesus in my hands and offering His body to the rest of the faithful. I was not in a position to honor, adore and glorify God by holding His precious body. If I’m being honest, I don’t know if I even believed at that time in the True Presence. I don’t think I even thought about it.

Looking back, I see that I had this war going on inside me that I didn’t know was actually happening. Jesus was trying to draw me in to Him with this longing I felt to be involved in the church. And yet, the siren sounds of the evil one were calling to me from every side. I quite easily made selfish, destructive, sinful decisions.

When I started college, I was faced with an incredible freedom to do whatever I wanted, and I wanted to have fun.

Unknowingly, I was trying to fill up the God-sized emptiness in my heart with parties and stupidity and laughing about our weekend escapades. I am sure this part of my story is not very different from many others. And maybe you’re reading this and thinking – sounds like a typical college kid.

Yep – that’s what I thought too. And the reason that so many people fall into this trap is because it works for a while. It all seems really enjoyable and harmless for a while – until it’s not anymore. Until your self-absorbed antics actually cause damage to a friendship, relationship, your job, your school work, whatever.

In my case, my typical college life luckily didn’t cause any real damage in my life. It did however interrupt my relationship with God.

Because there’s this little problem of what we call “the state of grace.”

What does “state of grace” mean? Well, the Church teaches that being in a “state of grace” means that a person is without mortal sin on his or her conscience. The Cathesism states, “Mortal sin is sin whose object is grave matter and which is committed with full knowledge and deliberate consent.” (CCC 1857)

Examining my conscience and thinking about my state of grace were not on my radar in my college years.

It’s hard to say if most of my stupid, immature behavior was enough to disqualify me from the “state of grace.” But one thing I cannot feign ignorance about is the obligation of Sunday Mass attendance, and my attendance at Sunday Mass was spotty to say the least. Yes, I went frequently but would skip if something pressing came up, say a paper to be written (an important obligation to be sure, but it still doesn’t take precedence over Mass).

All this to say that I would qualify myself as someone who should NOT have been serving in the role of Eucharistic Minister.

And that’s where I’m going with this post, since this is a series about my relationship with the Eucharistic Jesus. Here’s the story that I really want to share. It is a moment that would have irreparably damaged any human relationship, and it is a day that I remember clear as if it were yesterday.

I was assigned to serve communion at a morning Mass, maybe around 11ish, I think. As usual I went out the night before. In the morning the only way I actually got to Mass was that my roommate was also on the schedule. As I stood on the altar right after the Great Amen waiting, I was dizzy, near vomiting and almost fainted. And yet…I still held the Sacred Body in my clearly unworthy hands.

At that time I wasn’t even aware enough to be ashamed of myself. However, for a long time since then I was racked with shame over this incident and my overall behavior in general. But, shame is not from Jesus. Shame is a lie the evil one uses to keep us from Jesus.

I have since come to know Jesus’ ineffable and enduring mercy.

Jesus knew full well how I was going to hurt Him. He knew the grave irreverence I would show to Him in the Eucharist on this particular day. And yet He endured that pain and stayed with me in spite of it.

That’s how much He loves me (and you).

He will endure anything for our sake, for the possibility that we might make the choice to turn to Him and to love Him back.

I know that I am forgiven. I know He is not thinking about this day, using it to admonish me and shame me again and again. God has allowed this memory to sit etched in my mind for a very specific purpose.

He allows me to remember this moment so that I can recall the depths of my misery – that at one time I was so far from loving Him that I would hurt him with my own bare hands. And I know that I do not ever again want to be the one to desecrate the Eucharist and cause that pain to Him.

Now when I recall my former misery, and share that with you readers, I am grateful for the memory. Now I can firmly “make a defense to any one who calls [me] to account for the hope that is in [me]” (1 Peter 3:15).

If you are reading this and have been receiving communion in a state of mortal sin, or if this story has triggered feelings of shame in regards to anything in your past – please, please read this next part carefully…

Jesus will forgive you. Mercy is simply his unfathomable love poured out on us IN OUR SIN, and it is waiting for you.

Lent is a perfect time to reconcile yourself to Jesus through the beautiful sacrament of confession and begin to receive Him in a state of grace. And then, like my memory, your painful past can be a glorious example of Our Lord’s grace and mercy.