The Wanderer Finds Rest

The year was 2020. After ten long years of studies in the seminary, I have finished all the prerequisites for ordination – or so I thought. I wasn’t ordained. It was heartbreaking, to say the least. The disappointment cut deep, leaving my heart heavy and my spirit adrift. Little did I know the trials that followed would make this setback seem like a mere prelude to the storm that awaited.

What am I going to do now? Yes, I've got not one but two master's degrees burning a hole in my pocket. What in the world am I going to do with these?

It was the peak of the COVID-19 pandemic. The struggle was real for everyone, no one was spared. And so, I was in a tough spot trying to land a job, armed with degrees that feel like they're just collecting dust, and not turning into piles of cash.

I literally wandered around, letting my feet (or wheels) chart the course. Those wanderings were not without tears, worries, resentment, and a multitude of questions. Sometimes, I sought solace in the confines of my car, munching away and counting down the minutes until the day's end.

Each morning was a heavy load. Every night, instead of a time to rest, transformed into a haunting nightmare. I was clueless. I wasn’t prepared for this. Restlessness consumed me.

And yes, I also struggled with my faith. I questioned a lot of things in my life. Everything seemed up for examination, from the purpose of my journey to the meaning behind the trials I faced.

As I wandered aimlessly one day, by some internal resolve, I was led to the doorstep of a quaint adoration chapel (where the Blessed Sacrament is reserved for adoration) tucked within a nearby church. I peeked at its door. It was noon and the chapel sat in serene solitude, unbothered by the presence of any visitors.

I tiptoed into the chapel, feeling a bit shy. Oh boy! I forgot when was the last time I visited the Blessed Sacrament. The silence enveloped me, almost drowning out the sounds of my own footsteps. The flickering lights, resembling candles, cast a warm glow beside the Blessed Sacrament.

It was just me and Jesus.

I knelt and started to pray, only to find out that I didn’t know how and where to begin with. And a torrent of tears and a barrage of ungodly words, raw and intense enough to move angels to shock and tears, spilled from my lips:

I was a good son to You. I followed Your teachings. I did well in my studies. All I did was for You. I was a faithful son of Your Church that I desired to serve one day. After everything, is this truly the reward You deem fit for me? What kind of God are You? Answer me!

It felt like I ripped out my heart just to show Jesus the depth of its pain. I wept like a little child. I wept like there was no tomorrow.

And there was silence. Only silence.

But it was a peaceful silence. I felt the silence creeping into my soul. Peaceful because I was all alone with the Prince of Peace.

And I wept even more. I asked God for forgiveness. I was sorry for questioning God and His will. I was so sorry for taking the blame on God. All that mattered at that moment was I was with Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament.

The days of clueless wandering came to a halt when the wanderer knelt and wept before the God of his life – even of his wandering. I was so tired of running around in circles that I forgot to ask God if I could rest a while. Ah, the foolishness of my finite mind has blinded me to the reality that this God holds all things together! How foolish was I when I forgot the very words of Christ: “Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28)

The seminary did not prepare me for the working world. But it did prepare me to face the realities of life. The moments of silence when I was still in the seminary have trained me to be familiar with the language of God – silence. And that peaceful silence we shared in the chapel has reassured me of His unending companionship and grace in my struggles.

Wandering in life is tiring and burdensome. And one’s “wanderings” may come in different shapes and forms. A failed exam, a broken family, a betrayal by a friend, a breakup, unemployment, sickness, or even simply getting your comb stuck in your hair. It makes us question all that we ever know. But rest assured that you, too, can find the rest you really need. It may not solve your problems right away. It may not take away the pain instantly. But you will be given a different perspective on life and a newfound strength to continue.

Rest, O wandering soul, in the all-embracing silence of God. Let it consume your entire being. The storms in your life may be tumultuous, but may you be filled with trust and be consoled that Christ is there with you in your little boat. When things seem to fall out of place, they might actually be falling into their rightful places because the Divine Designer of the universe deems it to be so.

This wandering and broken soul has found his way back to the One True Rest – in silence and trust.