I serve at my King's good pleasure

I have an uncanny knack for getting sick during Holy Week. I'm done with some stomach virus this year. In some ways this is a great disappointment: I've been practicing music for weeks, it's the holiest time of year and the greatest time to worship in communion with the whole Church, and the Triduum liturgies are incredibly special.

But I serve at my King's good pleasure. Should He want me home, sick, then that is where I shall serve.

I have a warm, safe home in which to live. I have every medication for my ailments readily at hand. I can go to any church in my area and safely worship.

In many parts of the world, none of this exists for our fellow Christians. They are murdered and martyred, displaced, refugees, torn from their families, their homes, their churches. They have lost their homes, their fathers, their mothers, their pastors. And still, the name of "Jesus" remains on their lips.

As I sit in my office, praying the Stations and gazing on Christ Crucified, the puniest thing I can do is offer up my suffering in union with that of Christ, and remember the great sufferings of so many of our fellow Christians this Easter.

I serve at my King's good pleasure. Should that be in sickness, then that is where I serve.

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