11 July, Saturday — What does God ask of me?

Jul 11 – Memorial for St. Benedict, abbot, religious founder

Born to Roman nobility, Benedict (c. 480–547) was the twin brother of St. Scholastica. He studied in Rome, Italy, but was dismayed at the lack of discipline and lackadasical attitude of his fellow students. He fled to the mountains near Subiaco, living as a hermit in a cave for three years. He was reported to have been fed by a raven.

The virtues that St. Benedict (480-547) demonstrated as a hermit prompted an abbey to request that he lead them. His discipline was such that an attempt was made on his life; some monks tried to poison him, but he blessed the cup and rendered it harmless. He destroyed pagan statues and altars, and drove demons from groves sacred to pagans.

At one point there were over 40,000 monasteries guided by the Benedictine Rule that he wrote, which can be summed up as “Pray and work”.

• Patron Saint Index

Isa 6:1-8
Mt 10:24-33

“Here I am, send me.”

In the first reading, Isaiah stands before the Lord. Before he was sent anywhere, he simply remained in God’s presence, recognising the “wretched state” he was in. After God responded by taking away his sins, only then did Isaiah respond, “Here I am, send me.“

In the Gospel, Jesus prepared His disciples for mission. He told them not to be afraid. Following Him will not always be easy. There will be misunderstanding, rejection, and opposition. Yet, He asked them to take courage and remain faithful.

Prayer before mission — this perfectly captures St Benedict’s “Ora et Labora”. When translated from Latin, it means, “Pray and work.” St Benedict also called his monks to “prefer nothing to the work of God.”

For several years, I attended various activities at a Catholic community for young women. However, there were challenges. The centre was not wheelchair accessible, so attending many of their events was already impossible. One of the ladies shared with me about their mission trips and retreats that had deeply shaped her faith, and encouraged me to attend a retreat too.

But I had never travelled to the retreat centre before. I did not know whether it would be fully accessible for a stay-in retreat. The retreat was expensive, and every retreat I had attended before had been with my family. This one was only for young ladies. So, I declined. They also invited me to spend more time with another community of older women. I genuinely wanted to belong. Yet, their centre was physically inaccessible too.

What I loved most was the warmth of gathering around handmade dinners, watching movies together, celebrating birthdays, and sharing simple moments of laughter and fun. For someone who had rarely been invited to social gatherings growing up, those evenings gave me the chance to experience friendships and a sense of belonging that I had longed for when I was younger.

During those gatherings, I was aware of my physical limitations, yet I tried to find small ways to serve. I poured drinks for the ladies and guests during dinner and listened more to others. Looking back, I realise that part of me was afraid that if I spoke too much, I might seem as though I was drawing even more attention to myself.

Last year, I attended a Jesuit recollection at the Kingsmead Centre, which was more accessible for me. I was excited to share with the ladies what I had experienced there. Around that time, something changed. The conversations that we once had so regularly slowly faded away. Messages became less frequent until, one day, there was simply silence. Deafening silence.

For a long time, I wondered if I had somehow failed, despite my best efforts to help them.

Had I disappointed them? Had I failed God’s mission because I could not do what they had hoped I would do?

Was I simply becoming another person who needed help rather than someone who could help?

Several months ago, I stopped looking for another community altogether. I felt frustrated and emotionally drained. I wondered if perhaps church communities simply were not meant for someone like me. Staying at home felt safer than opening my heart to another community, only to be let down or hurt again.

This month, I have begun taking part in the 31 Days with St. Ignatius, organised by Loyola Press, to prepare myself for his feast day on 31 July.

One reflection about St Ignatius of Loyola particularly struck me. It described him as a leader who learnt from his failures, willingly embraced unpleasant work for a greater purpose, and most importantly, knew how to pause: to listen to God, to others, and to his own heart.

That word, pause, has stayed with me.

Perhaps discernment is not about rushing to find the next ministry. Perhaps it begins by listening.

And God might be asking me to offer what I already have.

More recently, one of the Jesuits invited lay people to help in simple but meaningful ways: writing intercessory prayers for a pilgrimage, proclaiming the readings and leading the intercessory prayers during recollections, and helping to start a book club. As I listened, it dawned on me that these were all things I could do.

For so long, I had associated ‘mission’ with doing something extraordinary, such as travelling overseas to serve the poor, or going on retreats in unfamiliar places. But perhaps God was gently showing me otherwise. I do not need to fly overseas or take on a physically demanding mission trip just to feel ‘useful’ or ‘mission-ready’. Sometimes, the work of God begins much closer to home, through the gifts He has already given me and the opportunities He has placed before me.

As I continue to pray about where God is calling me, one question keeps coming to mind — When we meet a person with disabilities who cannot serve in a ministry in the same way as others, how do we respond?

Do we slowly leave them out because including them takes more effort? Or do we encourage them, help them find what they can do, and serve alongside them?

Not everyone can do the same things, but everyone can do something. Sometimes that ‘something’ is a listening ear, a prayer, a kind word, or a small act of service. Every gift matters, because every person matters in the Body of Christ.

(Today’s OXYGEN by Brenda Khoo)

Prayer: Dear Jesus, Lord, teach me to pause and listen to You before I ask what You want me to do. Help me to offer You whatever gifts I have, however small they may seem. Give me the courage to trust that I have a place in Your mission. Amen.

Thanksgiving: Thank You, Lord, for loving me just as I am, and for reminding me that even the smallest act of love can glorify You. Amen.