Today I'd like to share a prayer I wrote in reflection on my past, the ways I've been wounded by others, or how I've wounded my own soul as a result of my sin. We all need healing, and one key in that is to see that God is bigger than our pain, our sorrows, and our sins. But this isn't just about God's almighty and transcendent majesty. It's a truth captured most wholly in His humiliation.

A lot of people want to understand. Why is God allowing this suffering, why did I have to endure this temptation, why do I fail again, and again, wounding myself and others? Why didn't God intervene when this happened to me?

Those aren't questions a responsible theologian can totally answer. But Jesus' answer isn't to merely respond, it's not to "explain" your suffering or your wounds. His answer is to be wounded for you, to invite you into His wounds, so that in your suffering you can encounter His suffering, and that in His resurrection, you might experience true healing. The path always goes through the cross.

Consider St. Paul's words: "Now I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I am filling up what is lacking in Christ's afflictions [θλίψεων (thlipseōn)] for the sake of his body, that is, the church" (Col 1:24).

How could anything be "lacking" in Christ's perfect sacrifice? This statement has challenged interpreters for centuries. The Greek term θλίψεων (thlipseōn) refers to pressures, afflictions, or tribulations. Paul isn't suggesting Christ's sacrifice was insufficient, but rather that believers participate in the ongoing application of Christ's redemptive work in the world.

Our sufferings, when united to Christ's, become part of His continuing work of redemption. We don't add to the accomplished work of salvation, but we participate in its unfolding manifestation in human history.

Paul further illuminates this mystical participation: "I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me" (Gal 2:20).

The perfect passive verb συνεσταύρωμαι (synestaurōmai) literally means "I have been co-crucified"—emphasizing our incorporation into Christ's redemptive suffering. This isn't metaphorical language; it's the reality of our baptismal identity. We die with Him to live with Him.

 

The Wounds That Remain: Christ's Resurrected Body

Remarkably, Christ's wounds remained even in His glorified body:

"See my hands and my feet, that it is I myself. Touch me, and see. For a spirit does not have flesh and bones as you see that I have" (Luke 24:39).

And with Thomas: "Put your finger here, and see my hands; and put out your hand, and place it in my side" (John 20:27).

Why would the resurrected Christ retain His wounds? These preserved wounds reveal that suffering, when transformed by love, becomes not something to erase but something to transfigure. The wounds remain, but now they glow with resurrection light. They become identification marks—proof of His love and victory.

In the divine economy, nothing is wasted—not even suffering. The scars remain as eternal testament to love's triumph over evil. What was once only pain becomes, paradoxically, evidence of victory.

The Pattern of Death and Resurrection

This theology is grounded in the fundamental Christian pattern of death preceding resurrection:

"Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit" (John 12:24).

The Greek ἀποθάνῃ (apothanē, "it dies") appears in the aorist subjunctive, indicating a necessary, completed action that must precede the bearing of fruit. Death must come before life. Burial before sprouting. Darkness before dawn. This pattern repeats throughout salvation history and our personal spiritual journeys.

Paul expands this principle: "Always carrying in the body the death of Jesus so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies" (2 Cor 4:10).

Paul is speaking about the process of dying or mortification—suggesting an ongoing participation in Christ's death that allows His life to be revealed through us. We carry His death so that we might manifest His life.

The Transformation of Weakness into Strength

This leads to one of Paul's most counterintuitive revelations: "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness (ἀσθενείᾳ, astheneia)" (2 Cor 12:9).

The Greek ἀσθενείᾳ (astheneia) literally means "without strength"—suggesting that divine power operates most perfectly precisely where human strength is absent. When we come to the end of ourselves, we find the beginning of God's strength.

Our weakness becomes the stage upon which God's power performs its most impressive feats. Our limitations become the very spaces where grace manifests most clearly. Our wounds become the channels through which divine healing flows most freely.

 

Wounds Becoming Windows: The Paschal Mystery

When our wounds are united to Christ's, they become "windows" through which others glimpse divine love:

"For as we share abundantly in Christ's sufferings, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too. If we are afflicted, it is for your comfort and salvation" (2 Cor 1:5-6).

This reveals the communal dimension of redemptive suffering—our wounds, when united to Christ's, become channels through which others encounter God's healing presence. The very places of our greatest pain become, paradoxically, the sources of our greatest witness and ministry.

Consider how often those who have suffered most deeply become the most compassionate healers. The recovering addict becomes the addiction counselor. The grief-stricken parent comforts other bereaved parents. The cancer survivor guides others through their diagnosis. Our wounds, illuminated by Christ's love, become places where God's glory shines through to others.

This is something I've come to know quite intimately in my own life. I've prayed things like this in the past, but as I've been thinking more deeply about it lately, I decided to put all of those prayers into something that might help you if you're dealing with something difficult, that we might pray our wounds not be wasted, but that they'd be drawn into His wounds, that His name might be glorified in the world.

 

 

A LITANY FOR THE REDEMPTION OF OUR WOUNDS

 

O Jesus, through Your boundless mercy, redeem my wounds!

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That my rejection, transformed by Your love, might help another see You, the Rejected One, who was scorned for their salvation: Redeem my wounds, O Lord.

 

That my pain, united to Your sacred anguish, might lead another into Your pierced side, where true solace flows for all: Redeem my wounds, O Lord.

 

That my loneliness, filled by Your divine presence, might guide another to Your Sacred Heart, ever open and welcoming to every soul: Redeem my wounds, O Lord.

 

That my sorrow, joined to Your profound grief for the sins of the world, might awaken repentance in another and draw their heart to Your forgiveness: Redeem my wounds, O Lord.

 

That my weakness, made strong by Your invincible might, might reveal to another the power of Your grace, perfected in infirmity: Redeem my wounds, O Lord.

 

That my brokenness, mended by Your divine hands, might become a testament to Your restoring love, healing the heart of another far from You: Redeem my wounds, O Lord.

 

That the wounds I have inflicted upon my own soul through sin, cleansed by Your Precious Blood, might become windows for another to see Your boundless mercy and redeeming love: Redeem my wounds, O Lord.

 

That my thirst, quenched by Your living waters flowing from Your side, might draw another to drink deeply and find eternal life in You: Redeem my wounds, O Lord.

 

That my desolation, comforted by Your abiding presence, might bring solace to another who feels abandoned, revealing You as their faithful companion: Redeem my wounds, O Lord.

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And if it be Your holy will, O Christ,

Let me be stricken, that You, the Stricken One, may be glorified through my humble offering, so another may find Your healing touch.

Let me be afflicted, that You, the Afflicted One, shining through my humility, may reveal to another the depths of Your enduring love.

Let me be blessed to suffer with You, O Lord, that my cross, however small, when united with Your infinite sacrifice, might become a window for another to behold Your redeeming love, leading them to Your pierced Heart.

May Your suffering, O Wounded One, pour forth healing upon a broken world, that through my transformed wounds, another may find Your redemption, for Your greater glory.

Redeem my wounds, O Lord.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.

Amen.