Angelus News | April 21, 2023 | Vol. 8 No

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his good and faithful servant, that this
was not the first trial in my life. I went
as far as to question his love for me.
My need for justification turned into
vindication. I became judge and jury,
snatching back any surrender I had offered
in the breaking day. Living like
this was exhausting and it is embarrassing
to consider, let alone share.
Clouded in what is considered a
cry and rationalization for my contrived
miracle, I forget that surrender
comes first. The miracle always comes
after the surrender: the surrender of
Israelites, our heavenly mother’s surrendered
fiat and our Savior’s surrendered
life.
In my season of justification, I
thought silence was the response, and
yet a simple statement often came to
mind: “You steer where you stare.” It
is an expression often used in navigation
to guide sailors to and from
celestial points. It is an expression any
“Pietà,” circa 1657–60,
by Juan de Valdés Leal.
| THE METROPOLITAN
MUSEUM OF ART
equestrian will validate. In fact, it was
told to my Catherine during one of
her first riding lessons.
Steering where you stare is a saying
that even St. Paul seems to paraphrase
in his Letter to the Hebrews. “Therefore,
since we are surrounded by such
a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw
off everything that weighs us down
and the sins that so easily distract us
and with perseverance run the race
that lies ahead of us, with our eyes
fixed on Jesus, the author and perfecter
of our faith. For the sake of the joy
that lay before him, he endured the
cross, ignoring its shame, and is now
seated at the right hand of the throne
of God” (Hebrews 12:1–2).
I entered this year’s Lenten season
pondering the simple statement. This
Lent, I decided, I would stare down
whatever needed to be my surrender
in this race that I am running.
As much as I wanted to believe my
stare was fixed on Jesus, that I was
running his race, my heart knew
differently. Deep down, we all know
what is really weighing on our hearts.
We simply need to stop long enough
to consider: What do our fisted hands
cling to? What causes you to catch
your breath at the thought of surrendering?
Maybe it was your Lenten
fast: the coffee on the way to work, the
glass of wine at the end of a day?
Or perhaps it’s more serious: the
child who is no longer practicing the
faith, or the job search, or forgiving
the seemingly unforgivable, that
affront so egregious that there is no
resolve?
I began to realize over these 40 days
that behind my “staring” at justification
was a need for comfort and
security. I was veering away from my
Lord, from my Provider. Everything
hinged on a miracle that would never
come because my surrender was never
offered. I was fixated on judging another
and their actions, and my gaze
had shifted.
If my eyes were truly fixed on Jesus, I
would have seen the cross upon which
he endured unjust torture for me, for
my sins, for my salvation, so that he
could claim my heart for eternity. My
stare would not mistake the very place
where in his final breaths, he uttered
a prayer for me and all of us: “Father,
forgive them, for they do not know
what they are doing” (Luke 23:34).
Perhaps this is why forgiveness is
defined as the repayment of a debt.
Perhaps when we surrender the
outcome or the consequences, when
we ourselves surrender what we feel
we are due and fix our eyes on Jesus,
we realize the currency of our heart is
forgiveness offered and accepted. In
forgiveness is the surrender.
And that surrender, we should
remember, makes way for the miracle
for which these 40 days prepare.
Jennifer Hubbard resides in Newtown,
Connecticut. The younger of her two
children, Catherine Violet, was a
victim of the Sandy Hook Elementary
School shooting. She is the author of
“Finding Sanctuary,” a memoir about
healing and fulfilling her late daughter’s
dream after her death.
April 21, 2023 • ANGELUS • 15