“Courage, child, your sins are forgiven.” // Matthew 9:2

I hated him at first, the man who hit me with his car. How he had knocked me to the asphalt when he turned into the parking lot and then yelled at me for walking in his way. How he had left me there in shock, without offering his insurance information, so he wasn’t going to be held accountable for hurting me: for the months of chronic back pain, physical therapy, and trips to medical specialists that ensued as I prayed for restoration. I hated him. 

Until one day, I didn’t. I don’t know how it happened. Perhaps it was because I noticed God’s tender care for me in my physical pain. Perhaps it was because I had begun to relate my anger and sorrow honestly to the Lord in Eucharistic Adoration. Or perhaps it was because I realized I had no clue what that stranger had actually been thinking when he struck me, or what he’d been feeling since: maybe he felt pierced with remorse and regret and agonized because he had no way to make it right. Suddenly I desired his healing as much as my own. 

It’s surprising, isn’t it, the story of the paralytic in today’s Gospel? Here he is, suffering from a severe physical ailment; it’s pretty clear just from looking at him what kind of healing he needs. But the Lord speaks first to the man’s heart: “Courage, child, your sins are forgiven” (Matthew 9:2). And then He shows His solicitous care for the man’s body, which also suffers as a result of sin.

So often we, too, think we need one specific type of healing, but God has something else in mind while we’re waiting for it. While I was (and still am) awaiting complete bodily healing from that accident, the Lord has used this time to gently cleanse me of my rancor toward this man and teach me His forgiveness. 

Sister, I invite you to bring to the Lord whatever suffering you feel burdened by today. Rest assured: He is not silent while you wait. He is always about the work of restoring your heart.