The Road From Damascus.. a story from Syria

Ziad was born and raised in Damascus, finishing his schooling in this historic capital of Syria. Most of his life, Ziad had been a practicing Muslim like everyone else in his devout family.

He would often accompany his father, his three brothers, and some neighbours to the mosque for Friday noon prayers and frequently for prayer on other days. The rest of the five daily prayer times he would observe at home or at work. Not once had he failed to observe the month of fasting since his boyhood.

After graduating from the state University, Ziad moved to Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, where he worked for several years as a civil engineer. While he was in Saudi Arabia, he continued to participate in all the Muslim religious duties, as well as to make the pilgrimage to Mecca. At times he wondered about the Injil and the Tawrat, but he would brush these thoughts aside for he believed that through his traditional religious training, he knew all he needed to know about the Holy Bible and about Jesus Christ. Yet, according to his testimony, "what I had heard from my Christian friends in Damascus and had seen in their lives, continued unanswered for many years."

In 1979, Ziad, along with his wife and young daughter, Ghada, went to Germany for one year of specialized training as provided by his employer. During the family's stay in Germany, Ghada became very ill and was admitted to a hospital. After receiving medical care for 4 days with no improvement, the doctors seemed resigned to her imminent death.

Feeling overwhelmed by the scene of his daughter's paling face, Ziad left her room with a heavy heart, and returned to the waiting room. There he sat motionless, yet agonizing, for a few moments, until he noticed a table in the middle of the room which contained books and magazines. He saw two recognizable books -- an English version of the Holy Bible and a German version of it. He got up and walked over to the table and picked up one.

As he returned to his seat, he held the book closed while his memory took him back to some sayings of Jesus Christ which he had heard from his former Christian friends in Damascus. Recalling one saying, he eagerly opened the Book that was in his hand and directed by the Holy Spirit, began searching for the passage. When he found it, he began reading it silently:

I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Son may bring glory to the Father. You may ask me for anything in my name, and I will do it. (John 14:13,14).

Seeing the willingness of the Son as expressed in these verses gave Ziad an abundant hope. He lifted a warm prayer to the Almighty God in the name of Jesus. His only request -- that his "dying" daughter would be healed.

"Immediately I felt a profound tranquillity and assurance," said Ziad. "I left the waiting room filled with unprecedented joy, seeing light surrounding me. As soon as I came into Ghada's room, I rushed to her bed and hugged her gently, saying, "Ghada my sweetheart, God will heal you."

The certainly with which Ziad made this statement even astonished him, but he knew deep in his heart that God had answered his prayer.

The tears which had dropped from his own eyes onto Ghada's cheek as he embraced here, Ziad wiped off. With tears of joy still clinging to his eyes, he turned to his wife and said, "I have asked God in the name of Jesus to heal Ghada. Never before have I prayed so fervently, nor so simply in such a special way. Somehow I am assured that God has answered this prayer."

Indeed, Ghada was healed. Two days later, the doctors released her from the hospital. They could find no reason to detain her.

Since this amazing answer to Ziad's prayer, both Ziad and his wife have experienced the transforming work of God in their lives. They know the truth about Jesus Christ and proclaim their faith in Him. Later, Ghada followed them on this path; she too now believes that Jesus is the Way, the Truth, and the Life.

St Mary the sinner ... a story from Eygpt

St Mary, also called the sinner, lived 47 years in the desert making penance and suffering privations. Toward the end of her life, St. Zosimus of Palestine came upon her in the desert. When the Abbot asked her who she was and from where she came, this strange woman - burned and darkened by the sun - answered:Father, forgive me, but when I start to tell you my story you will run from me, as from a snake, for your ears will not be able to bear the vileness of my actions and the air will be contaminated by my impurity. "I am called Mary and I was born in Egypt. I went to Alexandria at age 12 and lived there 17 years as a public woman, giving myself to whoever wanted me. But one day, I learned that some inhabitants of this city were going on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem to adore the True Cross, and I asked the sailors to let me also go aboard.

They asked for money to pay for the journey, and I answered that I had none, but I offered my body instead. So the voyage was made. In Jerusalem, when I went with the other pilgrims to the church on the holy day of the Exaltation of the Cross, I felt an irresistible force that prevented me from crossing the doorstep. Three or four times I approached the doors of the church, and each time that invisible power prevented me from entering. All the others went in freely without any obstacle. Retreating to a corner of the porch, I began to understand the reason why I was prevented from being admitted to see the life-giving Cross. The word of salvation gently touched the eyes of my heart and revealed to me that it was my impure life that barred the entrance to me. I began to weep and lament, and beat my breast and sigh from the depths of my heart. And so I stood weeping when I saw above me the icon of the Most Holy Mother of God. Turning to her my bodily and spiritual eyes, I begged her to obtain forgiveness for my sins and to order the entrance of the church to be opened to me so that I could adore the True Cross. In exchange, I promised to renounce the world and live in chastity. With this prayer, I acquired some hope and felt some confidence in the mercy of the Mother of God, and went again to enter the church. This time I was able to go in without any difficulty and found myself in the holy place. As I piously adored the Holy Cross, I heard a voice that said, If you cross the Jordan, you will find glorious rest .

With these words, I left the church and set off on my journey. As I was leaving the church a stranger glanced at me and gave me three coins. Taking the money, I bought three loaves and took them with me on my journey. I crossed the River Jordan and came to the desert, where I have lived for 47 years, never seeing a single human face during this whole time, feeding myself from those three loaves of bread that I brought with me. My dresses were reduced to tatters long ago. During the first 17 years I was tormented by temptations. After that, by the grace of God, I completely conquered them. This is my history. Then the old man, prostrating himself on the ground, praised God in the person of His servant. She told him: Now I ask you this. On sunset of the holy day of the Last Supper, bring me the Body of Christ. Wait for me on the banks of the Jordan, so that I can come and partake of the life-giving Gift. For during all the time I have been here, I have not approached the Holy Mysteries. The old man returned to his monastery, and the next year he returned to the banks of the Jordan bringing a consecrated Host. After waiting a while, he saw the holy woman appear and stand on the other side of the river, and he wondered how he could approach her since there was no boat. Then he saw that she made the Sign of the Cross over the waters and she at once stepped onto them and began walking across the surface until she reached him. In awe over the miracle, the religious man wanted to prostrate himself humbly at her feet, but she said: My Father, do not prostrate yourself before me, for you are a priest carrying the Body of Christ. 

After receiving the Holy Eucharist, she asked him the favor to return one more time to the same place where she first met him. The next year Zozimus crossed the river and went to the place where he first met her. He found her lying dead in the sand. He wept with sorrow but did not dare to touch her remains, fearing to offend her since she was wearing nothing. As he was wondering whether to bury her, he read an inscription in the sand by her head: Abbot Zosimus, bury the body of humble Mary on this spot. Return to dust that which is dust and pray the Lord for me, who departed on April 2, on the very night of Our Lord's Passion, after having partaken of the Divine Mysteries. [St. Mary died in the year 522]. Then Zosimus thought, It is time to do as she wished. But I am old and weak, and how am I to dig a grave with nothing but my hands? Then he saw a lion, which drew near and with its front paws it dug a hole deep enough to bury the body. After the body was buried, the lion went off into the depth of the desert like a lamb, while Zosimus returned to the monastery glorifying and blessing Christ.

Seek the Heart of Man

The ongoing war of words and sabre rattling between North Korea and America made me wonder about how and why conflicts get out of control on such a regular basis. 

‘Iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another’, the Psalmist tells us; but not without sparks, then fire, and how we handle it depends on whether the fire purifies or destroys. 

In civilised society we have learned to handle each other, in the office, factory or family. We know not to walk in the minefields of each other’s shortcomings for the most part. But where there are differences that we don’t understand, notice or expect, it can get ugly. 

I was part of a group once that was engaged in what I considered to be a very useful piece of work, I believed all had good motives, character and unity of purpose. The main organiser was not boastful, overly talkative or overbearing and was competent in his task. I had no reason to suspect that he was a megalomaniac with an ego the size of Mount Everest; its slopes and summit masked by a religious fog rendering it hidden. Unlike Everest though, egos are not made of granite but fragile material held loosely together with all the failings, wounds, shame and inadequacies of our fallen state. 

A clash of egos was inevitable, because I also have one; one of the few man-made objects that can be seen from space (apparently); I can also tread rather heavily in sharing an opinion. By the time I realised that anything resembling the slightest criticism or challenge would not be well received it was too late; I had already made a pig’s breakfast of it and quickly realised that it could end in bloodshed. Any counter-reaction would have escalated any conflict even further. 

Wounded pride is, after all, more painful than giving birth to a herd of elephants. Rage warps the mind as to what manner of vengeance is or is not reasonable or acceptable; hence the horror of war. It’s a remarkably short journey from misunderstanding and hurt feelings to murderous intent. 

Perhaps God allows proud men to lock horns together to temper their egos a little or use them against each other; sometimes you’re the titanic having your hull ripped out and sometimes you’re the iceberg.

No one knows the day or the hour...a story from England

A few years ago now, when we lived in Coventry,  a lady had a Mass offered for her sick brother-in-law who was a cancer patient, she was looking after him, a full time job at that stage.

After Mass a few of the parishioners were invited back to the house for tea and biscuits. They talked for a while and she shared her concerns for her brother-in-law.

Whilst She was a devout Catholic; her brother-in-law had no time for God at all. A very intelligent man, the living room was filled with plaques and certificates that hailed his achievements in his academic and professional undertakings and as a civic leader and local hero, but faith was absent and she feared for him as he had already exceeded the life expectancy predicted by the doctors, another credit to his will of iron.

That evening he was not at home, but at the hospital scheduled to receive a blood transfusion. The nature of his illness meant that he had a low blood count and so needed regular transfusions.

After tea, the group decided to pray together for a while, first for the lady who was so exhausted in every way and also for her patient. After praying for forgiveness of sins, they prayed for the current problem with his blood, also that he would be relieved of his pains and be able to sleep again (it had been almost a year since he had a nights sleep, every few minutes he woke up because of the pain), and also for him to open his heart to God and receive the faith.

Meanwhile in the hospital, at the same time, 9pm, the patient was hooked up to a machine which measured his blood count, while the doctors were preparing for the transfusion. The blood count was measuring a low level, then suddenly it went up and was reading what would be considered Normal. The doctors were a bit baffled by this, but continued with the transfusion. (The patient told his sister-in-law about this strange event, on his return, before she told him that he was being prayed for). That same night he slept like a baby too, and was able to do so in the next few months with little or no pain killers.

The same group of parishioners visited him again after his release from the hospital and whilst he became more open and requested prayers, as he always felt better afterwards, he was still unwilling to believe what God had done for him. (perhaps the blood count machine was malfunctioning, perhaps the pain killers were working better all of a sudden, maybe its psychological , if you know you're being prayed for maybe it makes you feel better !etc etc) The more people that witnessed to him the wonders of God, the more hardheaded he seemed to become !

Some months passed and on January the 3rd , he passed away. 

On January the 2nd he was rushed to hospital with a chest problem, which turned out to be Pneumonia. 

But on January 1st, at his own request, he was Baptised and became a Catholic:the peace and joy that filled him at that moment visible to all present. 

The Lord knew the day and the hour and He answers prayers !

Don’t throw tradition under the bus

A few days ago I was at Mass and there were clouds of incense wafting across the pews and up to the heavens. It reminded me of something. Years ago I attended an Alpha Course (the Anglican version) in a small village in Warwickshire. 

Whilst the course was very good indeed, scripture based (and great food) ; the latter part following the prayer for Baptism in the Spirit may have been a bit mishandled. Some of the facilitators were rather antagonistic to the older traditions, or anything that seemed outdated and encouraged the enthusiastic newcomers to the Spiritual life to find a ‘good’ church, meaning a ‘happy clappy’ one with the minimum of props. 

I had to interject to give them a little of my journey and why I did not jump ship to any other more modern or exciting church but rather stayed on as a Catholic after being ‘born again’ because I knew that what we have has been there for a long time, and, ignorant ‘cradle catholic’ though I was, I knew there must be a reason for that. And so, armed with a new view of the world that the Holy Spirit gives us, I began an exploration of the mysteries I had known only superficially.

This has been the greatest  adventure of my life. The intimacy of the life in the Spirit does not replace the traditional: by no means, it enables you to understand what you have with greater depth and so the reverence and awe of the Mass for example, is greatly intensified. Reverence and Intimacy are not opposites or conflicting but synergistic as they were in the apostolic times.

The Baptism in the Holy Spirit is a wonderful gift to believers and the church; but lets not throw our tradition under the bus.

The Wall ... a story from China

A story from the persecuted church in China about a lay missionary 's visit there:

On the second night of his visit, he was awoken in the middle of the night by the noise of people moving around the house. A little scared, he got up out of bed and went to his door. Opening his door he grabbed one of the men living in the house and said to him "what is going on ?" The Chinese man replied "we're going to the wall". He inquired further " What is the wall ?" The Chinese man replied "Come with us and we will show you"

He got dressed and ventured out into the night with this group of people, walking for miles. On the way they were joined by 2 other groups until they numbered about 120 people. They came to a forest and he noticed that some of the male members were climbing up the trees. (it turns out that they were look-outs).

They got to a clearing in the forest and there was a small half-built wall from an old derelict building. As they came closer, everyone fell down on their knees before the wall.

Moments later, one man got up and walked towards the wall and reaching forwards removed one brick, behind the brick was reserved the Blessed Sacrament. They adored the Blessed Sacrament for one hour in silent prayer. Then the brick was replaced, the men came down from the trees and they went home.

Two or three times a week they would go to the wall in the middle of the night, risking imprisonment or even their lives, to spend an hour with Jesus, their greatest friend.

Repentance is the Precursor of Healing

The Miracle at the Tomb of Sister Faustina

Before the age of 15, Maureen Digan enjoyed a normal healthy life. Then she was struck down with a very serious, slowly progressive but terminal disease called Lymphedima. This is a disease that does not respond to medication and does not go into remission. Within the next ten years Maureen had fifty operations and had lengthy confinements in Hospital of up to a year at a time.

Friends and relations suggested she should pray and put her trust in God. But Maureen could not understand why God had allowed her to get this disease in the first place, and had lost her faith completely. 

Eventually her deteriorating condition necessitated the amputation of one leg. One evening while Maureen was in hospital her husband Bob went to a film called Divine Mercy, No Escape, and there he became convinced of the healing powers of intercession by Sr. Faustina. Bob persuaded Maureen and the Doctors that she should go to the tomb of Sr. Faustina in Poland. 

They arrived in Poland on March 23rd 1981 and Maureen went to confession for the first time since she was a young girl. At the tomb (now the Shrine of Blessed Faustina) Maureen remembers saying in her own inimitable style "O.k. Faustina I came a long way, now do something". 

Innerly she heard Sister Faustina say: "If you ask for my help, I will give it to you." Suddenly she thought she was having a nervous breakdown. All the pain seemed to drain out of her body and her swollen leg which was due to be amputated shortly, went back to its normal size. 

When she returned to the U.S.A. she was examined by five independent doctors who came to the conclusion that she was completely healed. They had no medical explanation for the sudden healing of this incurable disease. The accumulated evidence of this miracle was examined in consultation by five doctors appointed by the Sacred congregation for the causes of saints, having passed this test it was examined by a team of theologians, and finally by a team of cardinals and bishops. The cure was accepted by all as a miracle caused by Sr. Faustina's intercession to the Divine Mercy.

Urgency of praying for souls in Purgatory

( a padre Pio story)

“One evening, while I was alone in choir to pray, I heard the rustle of a suit and I saw a young monk that stirred next to the High altar. It seemed that the young monk was dusting the candelabra and straightening the flower vases.

I thought he was Padre Leone rearranging the altar, and, since it was supper time, I went to him and I told him: “Padre Leone, go to dine, this is not the time to dust and to straighten the altar”.

But a voice, that was not Father Leone’s answered me”: “I am not Padre Leone”, “and who are you? “, I asked him. “I am a brother of yours that made the noviciate here. I was ordered to clean the altar during the year of the noviciate. Unfortunately many times I didn’t reverence Jesus while passing in front of the altar, thus causing the Holy Sacrament that was preserved in the tabernacle to be disrespected. For this serious carelessness, I am still in Purgatory. Now, God, with his endless goodness, sent me here so that you may quicken the time I will enjoy Paradise. Take care of me.”

I believed to be generous to that suffering soul, so I exclaimed: “you will be in Paradise tomorrow morning, when I will celebrate Holy Mass”.

That soul cried: “Cruel!” Then he wept and disappeared.

That complaint produced in me a wound to the heart that I have felt and I will feel my whole life. In fact I would have been able to immediately send that soul to Heaven but I condemned him to remain another night in the flames of Purgatory.”