Sanctified Suffering and the Sorrowful Mysteries

One of the other things that appeals most to me in Catholic theology is the concept of sanctified suffering. This means that, through joining my own sufferings to those of Christ, I can offer them up to God as an acceptable sacrifice.

This does not mean that I earn anything from Him. Apart from Christ's sufferings, my own are no more (and probably much less) than I deserve. But He took the penalty of my sin upon Himself, and therefore my suffering is not punishment or expiation, but something else.

This contrasts with a very prominent error in the modern church, that of the prosperity gospel. There is a truth which lies behind that error--a truth about the exchange of our sin, sickness, suffering, and curse for His holiness, healing, joy, and blessing (see Isaiah 53), which joins us into His covenant to receive blessings in this life. Here is a near perfect explanation of what I mean by that, to save me some writing. The only thing I would add to that is a caution that God's true prosperity also doesn't mean only spiritual prosperity and rewards in Heaven. It can and often does include Good Things here on earth. But Good Things of a higher order; of a holier, deeper, and more beautiful nature than those pursued by the world (or by those who have a crude and materialistic view of divine prosperity). In this sense, blessing, prosperity, and happiness in this life take on a different character and meaning: one can live modestly, humbly, even frugally, and still be considered greatly prosperous. Monks and nuns, for instance, living quietly but productively in cloister are living a blessed and abundant life when considered from this viewpoint. As is a family who is not materially wealthy by worldly standards, but is living in the blessings of true conjugal and filial love, and in a well-ordered and spiritually and aesthetically meaningful life. When understood correctly, the true version of divine health and prosperity fits perfectly with the theology of sanctified suffering: it is because of the exchange at the cross that my suffering can be offered as something which I no longer owe.

Right now, during Lent, I am praying the Rosary with the Sorrowful Mysteries. I am offering up all my own tribulation, in union with Christ in those mysteries, joining my sorrows with His sorrows.

In The Agony in the Garden I offer up to God all the time I've spent in agonized, passionate, sorrowful prayer, asking for His aid and His mercy, seeking knowledge of His will and understanding of His working.

In The Scourging at the Pillar I offer my broken heart: the grief, sorrow, sadness, depression, disappointment, and hopelessness.

In The Crowning with Thorns I offer Him my mental torments: all the negative thoughts, confusion, uncertainty, the despair, stress, anxiety, and doubt.

In The Carrying of the Cross I offer up the burden that I have borne; one that I willingly took up because I heard Him calling me to do so. I have stumbled more than once, as Christ stumbled under the weight of the cross. But I have borne it to the ends of my strength.

In The Crucifixion I offer all the rejection, isolation, loneliness, and shame I have lived in for so long. It has been a kind of death.