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The other day, I came across an interview between Anderson Cooper and the well-known actress Sharon Stone. We never know what a person may be carrying beneath what we see.

To briefly share her story: Sharon grew up with a mother who was distant and unaffectionate.  And, as it is often the case, Sharon’s mother herself had survived an abusive childhood. We can only imagine the pain and struggle both of them carried throughout their lives.

Near the end of her life, Sharon’s mother, who was suffering from dementia, seemed unable to let go. She was afraid that she would encounter her own parents where she was going. In order to comfort her, Sharon told her that her father was in jail and her mother was in the hospital, hoping this would help her release her fear and move on. Yet even then, her mother continued to struggle.

I do not fully understand what happens at the moment of death, but it often seems like when they are holding onto something unresolved, they linger. Sometimes they wait for someone, or for something unfinished to be resolved.

Eventually, Sharon realized that perhaps it was not her mother holding on, but it was herself who was clinging to. She longed for a moment of reconciliation. Sitting at her mother’s bedside, she waited, hoping to hear, perhaps for the first and last time,

“I love you,”  “I’m so sorry, baby.” 

In the end, she came to accept that she needed to step out of the room and allow her mother to make peace with her own death. She had to face a difficult truth; not every story ends with the closure we hope for.

In movies and novels, we often see dramatic and satisfying endings, moments of reconciliation that bring a sense of catharsis. But real life is not always like that. Often, those who hurt us leave without ever realizing the damage they caused. And sometimes, those we have hurt are no longer with us, and we never get the chance to say, “I’m sorry.” When there is no proper healing or closure, painful memories can remain alive in our hearts.

In my ministry, I have met many people who carried these wounds. Often, the seeds were planted long ago through words spoken or unspoken like, “You are dumb,” “You don’t matter,” or “You are a disappointment.”

They grew up with these messages which over time became their own words in their hearts. “I am dumb,” “I don’t matter,” “I am a disappointment.”

Why do people do this to themselves?

Someone once said that it becomes too painful to keep hoping, only to be hurt again and again. It feels safer, less painful, just to give up. And so, sadly, we sometimes become the prison guards of our own prison.

As I reflected on today’s Gospel, I found a certain irony. Jesus came to proclaim the Good News: that God is love, and that we are all beloved children of God. Yet not everyone received this message. Some could not understand it. Some understood it only in their head, but when difficulties arose, they fell away. Others were so distracted by worldly concerns and obsessions that they could not receive it at all.

Everyone longs to be loved and to love freely. So why does this Good News not take root in every heart?

Perhaps it is because other seeds, seeds of hurt and falsehood, were planted first. These weeds take over the heart, leaving no room for anything else. Even when the gift of love is offered, it cannot be received. To those who carry these painful words within them, at first I have tried to reassure them.

“You are good,” “You are worthy of God’s love.”

But it is not something that can simply be replaced, like pulling out one thought and inserting another. These beliefs have been part of their survival and letting go of them is not easy.

And yet, I have witnessed transformation at times. When I sat with them, listened to their stories, shared silence, and held space for their tears, something began to change. When they felt seen, understood, and cared for, the weeds in their hearts began to loosen and be pulled away. Then slowly, they were able to receive something new.

Jesus did not only proclaim the Good News. He also prepared the soil of the human heart that was taken by the evil. Evil is not always something dramatic or visible. It is anything that turns us away from God and from our true identity as His children. Hurtful words, violence, neglect, and injustice, all these can wound the heart.

And Jesus gently enters into those wounded places. He listens. He comforts. He allows our stories to be heard. He uproots the weeds that have been there probably to protect ourselves even in an immature way. And then, we begin to hear His voice: 

“I know you. I know your pain. And I love you even more because of that.”

Only then a new seed can take root, a seed of hope and joy. But this is not a one-time, magical transformation like the ending of a movie. Probably, people with green thumbs would be able to tell. The weeds will keep growing back. Often, the good seeds that bloom beautiful flowers and yield good fruit require attention and patience. I see this in the work of our garden team. It is not easy. It requires constant tending. Only as we cherish them, and take the responsibility for them, they will come to be fully alive and flourish.

The same is true for our hearts. All the negative messages from the world will keep coming back. “You are not good enough,” “You need this or that to be worthy,” “There is nothing you can do, so why don’t you give up and just get lost in pleasures.”

To resist them, we need to tend to our hearts everyday. More than anything, I invite and encourage you to spend time in prayer.

Let Jesus be your companion.

Allow Him to touch your wounded heart each day.

Share your struggles with Him.

Do not be afraid of being vulnerable before him.

And most importantly, let Him speak to you.

Affirming you with His love and leading you into the presence of God.

 

So we pray together.

Loving God, plant within us the seeds of your truth

that we are your beloved,

that we are not alone,

and that your love is greater than all our brokenness.

Give us the grace to be patient with ourselves,

the courage to face what we carry,

and the trust to place our lives into your hands.

Help us to tend to our hearts each day,

so that your love may grow within us and bear fruit for others.

We ask this in your name.

Amen.