A reflection by Sr. Redempta Twomey

In one of his books, theologian and author John Shea tells the story of a young man whose fatheris dying of cancer. The disease has wasted his body, and long after he should already be dead, he lies in his hospital bed, clinging to life. His pain, which no morphine can relieve, is etched in his drawn face.

Night after night the son comes from work to sit for hours by his father’s bed, holding his hand as he watches him struggle painfully to live.

Finally, one night the son says to his father, “Dad, let go! Trust God and die.” Within a short time, the father grows peaceful and breathes his last. The son realizes that he had voiced an important truth: trust God and let go.

Every day, God calls us to make this choice: to trust Him, to trust His plans for us, to believe in His love:

God sent His son into the world, not to condemn the world,
but so that through Him the world might be saved.
No one who believes in Him will be condemned.
—John 3:17

Our hope lies here.

And with this confidence we are able to make the choice to die over and over again so the life Christ promised us will be in us.

At the heart of the Christian faith is the paschal mystery of Jesus Christ dying, rising again and sending us His spirit. The Lord showed us the meaning of the paschal mystery when He says:

Unless a grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies,
it remains but a single grain; but if it dies, it yields a rich harvest.
—John 12:24

As we live out the paschal mystery in our daily lives, we are asked to make this leap of faith again and again—to “let go” and trust God for a fuller life. It is a costly dying, this letting go of much of what we cherish; at times, our very identity seems threatened.

We are afraid, we struggle, we resist, and we water down the choices put before us.

And perhaps more often than we realize, we say, “No, I cannot let go.”

Like the elder brother of the prodigal son who wouldn’t let go of his resentment, his sense of life’s unfairness, his refusal to celebrate, we, too, can isolate ourselves from the life that opens for us in God’s love.

Life is unfair: friends and family let us down, we are not loved enough, we are misunderstood, even ignored. Our often-modest dreams come to nothing; we walk amid shadows.

And yet, each moment we are faced with a choice: grieve over loss, yes, but then let it go; or hold tight and become hard, bitter and joyless.

Unless a grain of wheat dies . . .

The alternative is barren isolation, a desolate, stagnant spirit. Especially during Lent, this choice is put before us: life or death.

If we get into the habit of letting go now, with trust in God’s great love for us, we will begin to experience in ever-greater depth the grace of this deep mystery of Jesus Christ in our lives.