cerro negro

Today’s Word: Rest

Steve · July 29, 2013 · 5 Comments

larry — Rest. My friend, Larry, about halfway up our climb up Volcan Cerro Negro in Nicaragua in 2009. SJG photo.

We are called, in the paraphrased words of St. Teresa of Avila, to be the body of Christ to the world:

Christ has no body but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
Compassion on this world,
Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good,
Yours are the hands, with which he blesses all the world.

In Matthew’s gospel, Jesus issues an invitation that reverberates down through the ages: “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28) Jesus doesn’t promise to take away the hard work of our lives. He never says we will always be healthy or happy or that following him will be easy. He prepares us for quite the contrary, actually. But he promises rest and relief for those who have the courage to walk in his way and the faith to bring their burdens and weaknesses to him in prayer.

When we place ourselves in the service of others and nearly collapse at the end of the day, it is Jesus’ tired arms and legs that fall into our beds. When we work as Christ for those around us, we can know that our labor will never be in vain and the effect of our work will be blessed and multiplied by the divine energy that pervades and transforms our efforts. And perhaps best of all, we are promised rest at the end of the day in the loving arms of God.

Ask yourself in silence: Do I let myself just rest in God once in a while?

Hard at work in Chenendega, Nicaragua, 2009. SJG photo.

Today’s reflection is for some of my friends and a bunch of teenagers from our church who are back in Nicaragua working hard this week at Amigos for Christ. But believe me, they rest well at night in the arms of God…

New Year’s Resolutions: To See Goodness

Steve · December 29, 2012 · 13 Comments

hill — Hill adjacent to Volcan Cerro Negro, Nicaragua, 2009. SJ Givens photo

Over the years, here on this blog and in my 25 years of writing reflections for Living Faith, I have often recalled those times of finding and experiencing God through the wonder of the natural word. Indeed, many people say that they often experience God more intensely during a walk in the woods or along the beach than they do sitting in a church. And while I’m a big fan of sitting in churches, both in solitude and as part of a community of faith, I continue to readily find God in the simplicity and the complexity of God’s created world. For me and so many others, it is impossible to separate the created from the Creator, so the earth and all its marvels stand as constant and ever-changing monuments to the One who dreamed and fashioned and set all in motion.

In the creation story told in Genesis, even God seems to be amazed at his handiwork, so why should we not be? Over and over, at the passing of each day of work, God stands back, surveys his accomplishment, and says: “Yes, this is good.” For who can witness a clear starry night, a majestic mountain, or the power of the ocean’s surge without thinking the same? It is good, indeed.

Taking on the Black Hill of Death

Steve · December 19, 2009 · 2 Comments

Me, Jon and Jess, at the foot of Cerro Negro before the climb.

This past summer, I accompanied my parish youth group on a one-week mission trip to Nicaragua, where we helped build homes and a school near the northern city of Chinendega. But first, we were told that we were going to climb Cerro Negro, a 2,400-foot high volcano that had last erupted about a decade ago. When we arrived at the site, dubbed (jokingly, I hoped) the “black hill of death,” I stood in awe of the giant black formation. I wondered, and even doubted, if I could climb to the top along a narrow path among the jagged rocks and boulders and then make my way down the smooth slope of the other side of the hill that was covered with foot-deep volcanic gravel. I knew, of course, that I had an easy out. I could say that I just didn’t feel up to it and no one would question me. But I decided to go for it.

I thought it might be tough, but I wasn’t ready for just how tough it was. I stopped often along the way to catch my breath and gather the strength and will to go on. When I reached the top of the first winding and difficult path that led to another narrow path that shot straight along the crest of the volcano, my heart fell when I realized how much I had left to do. But I put one foot in front of the other, I put my head down and just walked, and with time I found myself standing at the highest point of the volcano.

My good buddy, Larry, takes a break on the way up Cerro Negro. Photo by Steve Givens

The pay off was great. The views were spectacular, and I got to share the accomplishment with the others in the group, including my son, Jon, and his girlfriend, Jess. We cheered on those who were still making their way up. We shared stories of the ascent and a simple meal of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. We took photos of each other rejoicing at our accomplishment. And then we headed down – a joyous descent, sliding and jumping through the loose volcanic gravel in minutes and making the multi-hour ascent a mere memory.

I learned a lot about myself that day. I learned I could do more than I thought I could. I learned the power of “one step at a time” and I remembered my high school coaches’ encouragement to get past a little bit of hurt by “walking it off.” But for me, this day was about much more than walking or physical strength.

I rediscovered an inner strength that I know comes from God. I reconnected with the idea that we are called to take care of our bodies because they are the temples of the Holy Spirit. I’m not going to become a marathon runner any time soon, but my experience on Cerro Negro, along with the intense physical labor of the rest of the week, awakened in me a need to both push myself a little physically (as my body with its disease will allow, of course) and, more importantly, to learn to call upon God as the source of my strength.

IMG_4127_2 — Me and Jon at the top of Cerro Negro

So when I just can’t do it, or when I am winded or fall, the greatest blessing is knowing that I have a God who sees me in my weakness, who knows me by name, and who picks me up and carries me the rest of the way. I am not ashamed of my weakness, for it is just an outward sign that there is still healing to be done inside me.