Sister John of the Cross
had been a contemplative nun
- a Carmelite -
for 24 years
and had become well-respected in her order

She was a spiritual master
who had visions given her by God.

She had even authored a successful book.

Then one day, the Feast of St. Christopher,
the visiting priest was telling the story
of that saint:
how he toiled,
carrying people on his back across a river
and discovered one day
that one of the people he had so served
was the Christ Child.

Later, in her cell
Sister John began to experience a vision.
She could see the river in her mind
as she wrote,
and she understood the saint's anguish.

Salzman's book reads:
"She had languished in the cloister
for years.
Her prayers empty and her soul dry,
until the visions finally came,
and brought the draught to an end.

When she finished writing and Christopher
had fallen into the mud,
Sister John of the cross
put down her pen
and read her own words,

'At last the child revealed himself
to the poor giant as Christ
and he said,
You carried the weight
of the whole world on your back
when you carried me.'

"Sometimes, wrote Sister John,
we all feel that way
when we share Christ's burden,
we feel we are drowning
in the sorrows of the world,
but, if we ask God
for the strength to endure
for the sake of others,
rather than just ourselves,
we discover how powerful
love really is."

- for the sake of others.

Her eyes welled up.
This was not just a story to her.
It was sacred writing.

God spoke to her through such words
and evoked from the center of her being
a response of fulfillment and gratitude.

Mother Mary Joseph,
the leader of their convent
watched her and thought
"God showers this one with Graces."

And, so thought them all.

As time went on
Sister John of the Cross
began to have periods of disability
associated with her visions.

For awhile
the sisters respected her powers
all the more.

But, the time came
when she was often late to prayers
and even unable to do her work
in the scriptorium;
and the mother superior insisted
that she go outside the convent
and see a physician.

She came home in distress.

They had found a small menangioma,
a tumor, pressing against her brain
and causing temporal lobe seizures.

It can be removed quite easily, said the surgeon,
but it wasnąt so simple for Sister John.

She was stunned.
Candidates with any history of epilepsy
were not even considered for the spiritual life,
and she began to reflect
upon her years as a nun,
20 or more long dry years
of longing for a connectedness to God
that just didn't seem to come;
and then a very few years
of visions and the feeling of privilege
and the admiration of her sisters.

"What if it all was false?" she thought.

And, what if I have this surgery
and my visions leave me?

I will again feel bereft of God.
Did I go through all those long years for nothing?"

So, Sister John sought out counsel
with the visiting priest,
the same one who had preached
the sermon on the Feast of St. Christopher.

And she explained her diagnosis
and her fears to him.

Fr. Aaron replied
that she was now much closer to God
than she had been before her troubles.

"How can that be?"
cried Sister John.

"Because," said the priest,
"We are all better off with doubts
than in presuming ourselves to be holy."

The sister was rocked,
but he wasn't finished,

"The problem for you
is that you are looking out for yourself
you are filled with self concern;
This isn't supposed to be about you;
it is supposed to be about God."

A few nights later,
after an especially bad seizure
(or, from her perspective
an especially good seizure),
Sister John was in the infirmary,
being tended there
by the sister in charge,
who already had her hands full.

In the middle of the night
Sister John stole out of the sick room
to sit and pray in the chapel.

Soon, Mother Mary Joseph, age 80,
came to join her vigil.

Then another, and another of the sisters of the order,
until all of them were there,
staying up all night with her,
being present for her
in her pain.

It was then that the truth came to her.
Her lent was over.

She had finally accepted the ashes
on her forehead, if you will;
accepted the fact that it is God
and not our self-will and our own effort
that brings life and love
meaning, presence, and peace.

She recognized the fact
that she is a member
of a religious community
and that it is that faith community
which had sat through the night
with her,
and, indeed,
had journeyed faithfully with her
all those 24 years.

It was that community
which represented to her
the love and inclusion of God.

Fr. Aaron had spoken the real visions
"This isn't about us,
It's about God."

We, as well, have our own journeys;
our own doubts
our own fears
our own diversions
our own addictions.

We have self-will
and put ourselves
at the center of the universe.
That's why we need
to kneel here tonight
and be reminded
that without God
we are a dry ash
unable to support a flicker of light or life.

Then, we can get out
of God's way,
and he can heap awareness upon us
of grace and life and hope
and vision.

Sister John of the Cross
surrendered at last,
after 24 years of struggle.

She had the surgery.
The seizures stopped;
so did the visions
and the writing;

but she discovered her faith community,
she discovered who she really is, a Carmilite Nun
living in holy community,
and she discovered God,

who had been there
all along.