My eyes have seen the king

One of the things that seminarians have to confront in their years of formation is a general feeling of unworthiness at the thought of the reception of Holy Orders. While it is true that we are all in the process of constant transformation as we strive for holiness, the reality of what God makes of a man presented for ordination begins to strike the heart and the conscience of many of us. The words of St. John Vianney, the patron saint of parish priests, have been particularly striking to me as I contemplate this reality myself: “O, how great is the priest!... if he realized what he is, he would die… God obeys him: he utters a few words and the Lord descends from heaven at his voice, to be contained within a small host.”  

I had the opportunity this past summer to wrestle with many areas of poverty in my heart as I made the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius of Loyola. This 30-day silent retreat intended to help the retreatant implore every possible method of examining his or her conscience so to rid themselves of any attachments that are keeping them from greater union with God. The daily schedule looks different for each retreatant. For me it included five holy hours, spiritual direction, Mass, recitation of the Rosary and Breviary, as well as some time for recreation, all—with the exception of direction and Mass—in silence and solitude with the Lord.  

Within the 30 days, there are four general movements of God, each with various components. The first is experiencing the love of God, the second is praying through the life and works of  

Jesus, the third is the passion and death of our Lord, and the fourth is his glorious resurrection.  

While in that first movement, I realized the profound reality, that Jesus speaks a very intimate language to each of our own unique personalities and life experiences. The Lord seeks me out, that I might turn to him and love and serve him. One particular holy hour that will be forever imprinted in my memory was praying with Psalm 116. As I entered into prayer, I was weighed down, recalling the sins of my youth that made me feel so unworthy of his love, and of course unworthy of his priesthood. I saw myself as a young child, and a loud voice said, “who would want that one.” At that moment I felt greatly distressed. Immediately Jesus picked me up and in the following 50 minutes Jesus showered me with his love. I heard in my prayer, “William I love you because of your weaknesses”; “William I want you to serve me because of your weaknesses.” 

With each sentence, Jesus spoke to my heart, showing me that my weakness, my struggles, each of my flaws, is the very reason he loves me and wants me to serve him as his priest. When we allow the Lord to heal our wounds, and see our scars, he reveals to us his heart, and the depths of his love for each of us. In examining all of the ways he has saved me from my own sinfulness, my own faults, I cannot help but cry out, “how shall I repay the Lord for his goodness to me” (Ps. 116:12). The answer comes so clearly in the following verses “I will lift up the chalice of salvation and call on the name of the LORD… O Lord I am your servant; I am your servant the son of your handmaid. I will offer to you the sacrifice of thanksgiving and call on the name of the Lord” (Ps. 13, 16, 17). 

The reality is that Jesus is famished for our love. He desires me and you. There is no amount of sin, no personality trait or quirk that can take away the Lord’s love for each of us. The Spiritual Exercises revealed to me the heart of the Father. I now, like Isaiah, can cry out with joy, “My eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts.” Take me Lord and do with me as you will!