Tropical storm Maring continues to pour nonstop rain in Manila. With so much rain, it can be depressing. I am tempted at various times to judge my Jesuit brothers from Belgium, India, Italy, El Salvador, The Philippines, Indonesia, Canada – for the littlest things like the way they speak English, eat, or convey different cultural perspectives. A week of continual downpour affects my mood.
Yet, amidst this deluge of water flow, I also find myself repeating the first line of a contemporary version of the Soul of Christ, “Jesus, may all that is You, flow into me.” I have a lot time to soak in how I am so loved by God and by the people God has placed in my path of ministry. Talking to people I have not seen for 13 years deepens this awareness. I feel so humbled by Love. Tears stream down my cheeks again.
Saint Ignatius of Loyola imagines that God’s love flows lavishly like a fountain spilling forth its waters into an unending stream or like the sun bursting forth its rays - like the Ignatian sunburst in Loyola House Chapel (see photo on the left). I experience what he means concerning God’s overflowing love. As I pray for people by name, I am often overcome with gratitude.
I find myself alternating back and forth from preoccupation with my weaknesses and tendency toward judgment to attentiveness on God’s outpouring love for me. Perhaps this is an integral aspect of creating space: I cannot control water flow or dictate how sunrays shine. Allowing God’s life to flow into me requires patience and openness. Patience with my frailties, openness to receive whatever is given. As I embrace both patience and openness I let go of my expectations of what is to come ... and flow with grace. Jesus, may all that is You, flow into me.