Reflection

For those who have heard my story, you know that in 2003, after losing everything ~ my family & friends, my home, a career at Nike, all my money & material possessions ~ all due to my addiction to crack, I became a homeless, street prostitute on 82^nd Avenue.  It was a dark and hopeless time in my life.

One afternoon, while I was working my track, I stumbled across a sanctuary, The Grotto, a short distance back from the noisy roads leading to the airport.  It was instantly mystical.  Ethereal.  A spiritual oasis.  From the moment I stepped through its gates, it was as if I had entered another world.  All I felt was peace.  All I heard was quiet.  Left behind, out on 82^nd and Sandy Boulevard, was the chaos and insanity I was accustomed to.

In the days and weeks that followed, I spent hours in the solitude of those breathtaking grounds, gazing up at the towering old fir trees, staring at the glorious sunlight filtering through them from above.  I walked along secluded paths, gazing at the marble, granite and bronze statues gracing shrines, all caressed by colorful foliage, flowers and ferns.  The 14 Stations of the Cross are depicted there in a series of stunning artistic portrayals of Christ’s sufferings in the final hours leading to his crucifixion.  I had never been religious, but there was something in that imagery that touched me deeply and kept bringing me back.  How did it come to be that this uniquely spiritual, refuge sat amid such ugliness?  Why wasn’t it situated somewhere on the way to Mt. Hood?  Or on a hillside overlooking the Columbia River Gorge?  Some place especially preserved for peace and beauty.  But then, during a later visit, sitting alone on a bench there, with tears welling up in my eyes, it occurred to me that maybe, just maybe, this place was exactly where it is supposed to be.

In my drug-induced fog, I was never able to think clearly about why God had led me to this place.  Nor did I have any answer as to why me of all people?  Undisputedly, I was as unworthy a candidate as almost anyone ~ or, at least, that’s how I thought then.  But what I have learned since is that the thing that is so beautiful about God’s love for us is that it is unconditional and always just waiting for the slightest inclination that we are willing to receive it ~ even if, as I did, we again turn away from it.

I have been clean since October 2009.  And have come to believe the power of the Stations of the Cross is to detail the scriptural path Jesus walked on his way to eventual redemption of humanity.  The Stations of the Cross is a depiction of a journey of faith.  Of commitment ~ even when rejected, one will not be abandoned.  The cross is about the power of love, the commitment of God to humanity, the faithfulness and grace of God that knows no limits, will yield to no boundary, and will even risk death itself for the sake of new life.  Since I have had to walk my own difficult path to spiritual redemption there has been much in the Stations of the Cross for me to contemplate and make a part of me.

In following Jesus on his journey, we begin to understand that in Jesus’ sufferings we can all see our own journey mirrored in his.  Although ours is not likely headed to a cruel and humiliating death, in those hours of our own dark night, we experience similar feelings of helplessness and hopelessness.  To face such a darkness we need some glimmer of light, some hint of hope beyond endings, some model of perseverance that comes from a faith that does not know the outcome yet is willing to trust God with it.  In Jesus’ suffering, I see perseverance in the midst of endings and courage in the midst of hopelessness.

To me the value in the Stations of the Cross is simple and twofold.  First, life is sometimes dark, painful, and brings endings.  That reality does not go away even for the Son of God.  Second, God does some of his best work at the darkest, ugliest part of our journey.  Like 82^nd & Sandy Boulevard.