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“It’s a right mess!” Here in England, how many times have I heard that phrase since the Brexit referendum? We seem to have endured a never-ending procession of political upsets, crises, divisions in our country.
“It’s a right mess!” For a few years, our Church has been rocked by shocking scandals of abuse by those called to act in persona Christi. The need for atonement, purification and healing is staggering.
“It’s a right mess” say many of our friends, as the tangled web of family dynamics and tragedies threaten to thwart even Our Lady Untier of Knots.
“It’s a right mess” we may mutter to ourselves, as we face our own intractable and complex hearts and realize our utter inability to right that mess.
In 2014, when the Boko Haram was wreaking malevolent havoc on Nigeria, I could not bear to hear about one more atrocity. And yet I knew I couldn’t close my ears. More than ever, our prayers were needed. Only God could stop this unbearable tangle of evil. And yet he didn’t. It kept getting worse.
Then I came across a letter that changed my life. It was written by Bishop Doeme to his people in Nigeria who were at the epicentre of this madness. Acknowledging the hell in which they were living, he wrote, “We are wounded, traumatized and devastated. We have lost our dear ones, our property, our wealth and our church structures.”
But his next words stunned me: “Be consoled, my dear people, that the love of God for us is unshakable … that we have a mother who never fails. Be consoled my people because we have the strongest weapon at our disposal, and that is prayer.
“Be consoled, my people, that God is there for us; be consoled for the spirit of forgiveness God has implanted in our hearts. Be consoled because our victory is at hand.”
His words, spoken in the centre of the fire, like those of Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego (Dan 3), rang with authentic trust. Without seeing a way out of this fiery furnace, he urged his people to praise the God who would save them. These were not just words: the power of his conviction leapt into my heart.
What changed my heart was this: I realized that when I am in the nadir of suffering, I have a choice: to despair or to put my trust in the God I know to be loving, even if I see no sign of victory. No other human reason or solution satisfies in these extremes—only unreasoning, crazy trust (as Christ showed in his Passion, his ultimate act of love for us).
Years later, I read that Christ had appeared to Bishop Doeme and handed him a sword. He took it, and it turned into a rosary, while Christ proclaimed three times, “Boko Haram is gone.” Christ promised victory and gave Bishop Doeme the key: pray and believe.
So when I now hear (or say), “It’s a right mess,” I pick up my rosary and praise my Lord of Love. He will prevail!
