How God tested our resolve out on the sidewalk

I’d just returned from the National Eucharistic Congress with our diocese, and my heart was on fire, a resonating message from our time in Indianapolis still churning: “Don’t take your eyes off Me, no matter what!”

My friend Joanne and I experienced that beautiful week together, blissfully running toward our Lord every morning, noon, and night. Another friend, upon hearing about it, said it reminded her of John and Peter running toward Jesus’ tomb, and their elation upon finding it empty. Yes, it was much like that!

Despite my enthusiasm, I carried some heavy burdens in the backpack of my heart throughout the week. This made the message all the more impactful. Distractions and temptations will only increase, so our gaze must stay fixed on Him.

But soon, I would find my resolve being tested. Arriving at our area’s only abortion facility after my return, I heard loud music coming from across the street. 

Earlier that day, before I arrived, someone had drawn an image on the sidewalk with chalk. It was one contrasting that which a young pro-lifer had created a few weeks before, showing a mother and child in a posture of pure love. Instead, Ishtar, the goddess of war and sexual love, had been elevated. Thankfully, rain washed it away.

As I made my way over to pray with my friend Ann, I noticed the escort standing at the edge of the sidewalk, as close to us as possible, a mini speaker attached to his belt buckle. As I assumed my post near the parking-lot entrance, I became painfully aware of the lewd lyrics, more vulgar than anything I’d ever heard before; sexually exploitative to a degree I didn’t even know possible. My soul was immediately distressed, and I wanted to run the other way.
We couldn’t abandon our posts, though. That would be a win for the dark side. We had to stay, but it was now clear: We weren’t just on a sidewalk at the fringe of a city, but on the frontlines of a war. 

I turned on some beautiful music from my phone, which helped temporarily. The soothing sounds of Sarah Kroger singing “Glory Be,” a song that had filled the Lucas Oil Stadium with beauty and truth just a few weeks earlier, allowed me to block out the lyrics of the crude rap music to some extent. But in time, we knew we’d need an even stronger weapon to combat the unrest. We needed to start praying. 

Ann and I struggled as we first began reciting the Divine Mercy Chaplet; our minds kept getting distracted and we took turns forgetting some of the words. But we finally pushed through. When it was time for the Rosary, another, newly arrived friend, looking troubled, walked over to join us.

Together, we three prayed the joyful mysteries in a standoff against the offensive chants. To help stay focused, we ditched the typical call-and-answer format and prayed every word together, in tandem, sometimes closing our eyes to concentrate, and other times, looking at each other for strength. We stood in a triangle, my back to the sidewalk facing the other two, sealed in a formation of grace.

By the time we reached “Hail Holy Queen,” the offender had left, and all was quiet. We finished the last portion in silence, relieved but shaken. We had made it through, but I’d become aware that we’d just endured one of the hardest things ever during sidewalk ministry. Though emotionally and spiritually worn, there was a feeling of triumph as we hugged each other.

That night at Adoration, I realized God had strengthened us by holding us to the fire, yet without ever leaving us. “I stayed fixed on you, Lord, just as you asked,” I thought. Certainly, it would have been easier to run, but our persistence had meant something. We had not abandoned our places, nor been pushed out, but had held steady, with heavenly help.
Someday, we may well review this scene and be shown what was really happening; how we were surrounded by angels, likely led by St. Michael. It was a test God allowed to prepare us for the battle ahead, to serve the Lord in whatever ways he asks.   

“And because of the increase of evildoing, the love of many will grow cold. But the one who perseveres to the end will be saved.” (Matt. 24:12-13) Help us, Lord, to be among those who do not grow weary. Thank you for helping strengthen us on the sidewalk, for all that is to come.