I come to Jesus, tired and worn. The little day-to-day stressors and to-do lists have piled up until I feel drained and empty—I have nothing left to give.
I come to Jesus, present in the Tabernacle in front of me in the quiet, empty chapel. I look up to see an image of Him hanging on a crucifix. He, too, is tired and worn. Yet, in the moment He suffered most, He gave the most.
Agape love—a complete outpouring of oneself for another—is exemplified on Calvary. The paradox of this love is that in emptying ourselves, we are actually filled.
Christ became man to show us how to suffer and give of Himself in death out of love. Fully human, Christ experienced the pain of everyday sufferings we often encounter. He became tired. He felt spent. Some days He probably didn’t want to keep going. But He did. He was able to endure the triumph on the cross.
I want to carry my daily crosses like Christ, but I realize that I am weak and cannot give what I don’t have. In order to give of myself in agape love, I must first receive. I must be filled with Christ to love like Him. Knowing this, He left me a gift.
The night before His death, the ultimate act of love, Christ gave me Himself. He knew I couldn’t do this alone— the trials and struggles would be too much without Him—so He gave me Himself in the form of bread and wine. Not just a symbol, but truly His Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity.
Each Mass, as I approach the Eucharistic table, I lift up my heart to Christ and ask Him to empty me completely of all that is not of Him. Only in approaching the Eucharistic feast with an empty heart and empty hands can I receive fully. I become an empty Tabernacle, awaiting to become a vessel of Our Lord.
As I stand in line, I see others receive, and it’s almost my turn. I’m next. I try to get in the right mindset, but it’s never perfect. He doesn’t care. I receive Him in a Humble Host and walk back to my pew. I’m unworthy of such a gift. He knows it, but still doesn’t care. He loves me—infinitely. He wants to fill me up so I can pour Him out to others and the world, just like He did for me.
I quiet my heart as I kneel in my pew and thank Him for this gift. I can love because He loved first. My to-do list is still there and the daily annoyances will come again, but I have peace because I have Him. I am a Tabernacle. And because I carry Our Lord, I can give of myself—even when I have nothing left to give. I can love because I carry Love Himself.
I am His Living Tabernacle.
From the depths of my soul,
