08/15/2026
Part 4 | It was a humid, dewy, foggy Sunday morning.
The rest of my retreat partners were still asleep, so I decided to spend the quiet morning deepening my spiritual practice by walking the Way of the Cross.
I had walked this same path the day before.
But this time, I brought the prayer booklet.
At the first station, I opened it and looked at the image of Jesus being condemned to death.
And completely unexpectedlyโฆ
I began to sob.
Not a few tears. Uncontrollable, from-somewhere-deep-within-me sobbing.
Iโve prayed the Stations of the Cross many times before. I knew the story. I knew what each station represented.
But this wasnโt thinking about the story.
It felt like I was experiencing something within it.
The suffering. The condemnation. The weight of the cross. And even the pain of those witnessing someone they loved endure it.
The first seven stations were incredibly difficult. I could physically feel the heaviness within my body.
But I kept walking.
Station by station, something shifted.
The heaviness softened. My breathing changed.
And by the 14th station, what began as overwhelming grief had become an indescribable peace.
Peace be with you.
And it stayed.
I had to sit down afterward and process what had just happened.
Maybe that is part of the deeper invitation of the cross.
Not to glorify suffering, but to remember that our suffering can hold meaningโand that we donโt have to carry our crosses alone.
Because the cross isnโt where the story ends.
There is surrender.
Grace.
Renewal.
Resurrection.
That morning, I didnโt simply walk the Way of the Cross.
I experienced it.
What began with tears ended with peace.
I can only describe what followed as an ignition from the Holy Spiritโa deeply personal experience of grace and renewal I wasnโt searching for, forcing or expecting.
I simply made myself available to receive it.
And maybe thatโs what I keep coming back to:
What becomes possible when we stop asking God to show up the way we expectโฆand become quiet enough to experience Him the way He chooses?
One more part remains.
And I had no idea everything before it was preparing me for what came next.