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Testimonies
I have many stories of where God has intervened in my life. I will start with the short and startling version of when I first physically saw Jesus.
When I was about 8 years old my mom and I were going to a Baptist Church and we were both baptized there together. Due to circumstances outside of my control we stopped going to church.
In my thirties I met my future husband. He was born into a Catholic family. I started attending church with him at St. Helens in Newbury, Ohio. One year into our relationship we got engaged. Of my own volition, I decided to take the RCIA classes. I had so many questions about Catholicism but not once did I question my faith. I just felt like I had returned home. Where I belonged.
I was so anxious to participate in communion with everyone else! I was so excited about the body and blood of Christ because of what it represented to me...coming home, belonging, sacrifice, redemption, saving and God's unending mercy and love for me (us).
Finally, the day arrived! My first communion! I remember the excitement and the nervousness of being in front of so many people who would witness this event and share it with me. I don't remember the scripture verses that were read that day. I don't remember the songs that were sung. I honestly don't remember what Father Jay said at all.
What I do remember is that when father Jay held up the Eucharist, there plain as day, was the head and bust of Jesus Christ looking out at all of us with his hand on his heart. I gasped in shock and turned around and looked at everyone. No one had a look of shock or awe on their face. My husband was sitting behind me, and smiled at me and looked back up. Not in surprise and definitely not in shock. Did no one else witness this? Did no one else see him?
I looked back up at the altar, at father Jay, at the Eucharist. There Jesus was. Still on the Eucharist. Hand still on his heart. Still looking out at us. Father Jay lowered the Eucharist. Said some more words I don't even remember. I was about to take my first communion and join in the body and blood of Christ knowing that Jesus was truly the Eucharist. Knowing that I may have been the only one in that entire room to witness it.
I asked my husband later if it was normal for the imprint of Jesus to be on the Eucharist. He looked at me strangely and said there is no imprint of the bust of Jesus on the Eucharist. But, he believed that there was a impression of a symbol on it. And maybe, that is what I saw. However, he said if I did see the bust of Christ, it is truly a blessing and a sign to me.
I have since seen this several times and at different churches too. I have been close to the front and sitting in the back. I have been wearing my glasses and I have been without my glasses. It is always the bust of Christ with his hand on his heart.
I always look around the church and see if anyone is rubbing their eyes, squinting, doing a double take or looking around to see if anyone is doing what I am doing. My husband sits with me all the time and has never seen Jesus on the Eucharist. Not even when I have emphatically squeezed his hand and hastily whispered 'Look!' He knows why I'm telling him to look. But just shakes his head no.
I think to the times I have had 'strong feelings or urges to do something,' and didn't move upon it. Because of a recent retreat, a dawning of understanding has occurred to me. If I'm not going to hear, understand or act on verbal ques...maybe God is reaching out to me in imagery.
I am watching.
When I was about 8 years old my mom and I were going to a Baptist Church and we were both baptized there together. Due to circumstances outside of my control we stopped going to church.
In my thirties I met my future husband. He was born into a Catholic family. I started attending church with him at St. Helens in Newbury, Ohio. One year into our relationship we got engaged. Of my own volition, I decided to take the RCIA classes. I had so many questions about Catholicism but not once did I question my faith. I just felt like I had returned home. Where I belonged.
I was so anxious to participate in communion with everyone else! I was so excited about the body and blood of Christ because of what it represented to me...coming home, belonging, sacrifice, redemption, saving and God's unending mercy and love for me (us).
Finally, the day arrived! My first communion! I remember the excitement and the nervousness of being in front of so many people who would witness this event and share it with me. I don't remember the scripture verses that were read that day. I don't remember the songs that were sung. I honestly don't remember what Father Jay said at all.
What I do remember is that when father Jay held up the Eucharist, there plain as day, was the head and bust of Jesus Christ looking out at all of us with his hand on his heart. I gasped in shock and turned around and looked at everyone. No one had a look of shock or awe on their face. My husband was sitting behind me, and smiled at me and looked back up. Not in surprise and definitely not in shock. Did no one else witness this? Did no one else see him?
I looked back up at the altar, at father Jay, at the Eucharist. There Jesus was. Still on the Eucharist. Hand still on his heart. Still looking out at us. Father Jay lowered the Eucharist. Said some more words I don't even remember. I was about to take my first communion and join in the body and blood of Christ knowing that Jesus was truly the Eucharist. Knowing that I may have been the only one in that entire room to witness it.
I asked my husband later if it was normal for the imprint of Jesus to be on the Eucharist. He looked at me strangely and said there is no imprint of the bust of Jesus on the Eucharist. But, he believed that there was a impression of a symbol on it. And maybe, that is what I saw. However, he said if I did see the bust of Christ, it is truly a blessing and a sign to me.
I have since seen this several times and at different churches too. I have been close to the front and sitting in the back. I have been wearing my glasses and I have been without my glasses. It is always the bust of Christ with his hand on his heart.
I always look around the church and see if anyone is rubbing their eyes, squinting, doing a double take or looking around to see if anyone is doing what I am doing. My husband sits with me all the time and has never seen Jesus on the Eucharist. Not even when I have emphatically squeezed his hand and hastily whispered 'Look!' He knows why I'm telling him to look. But just shakes his head no.
I think to the times I have had 'strong feelings or urges to do something,' and didn't move upon it. Because of a recent retreat, a dawning of understanding has occurred to me. If I'm not going to hear, understand or act on verbal ques...maybe God is reaching out to me in imagery.
I am watching.