I was standing in my kitchen, making tacos, when Joel Stepanek from the National Eucharistic Congress texted me asking if I would be open to speaking at the NEC the following summer. I immediately said yes (what an honor of an invitation), and then I immediately became queasy at the thought of being involved, in any way, with what could be the most significant event we’ve had in the U.S. Catholic Church in decades. I won’t hesitate to admit: I had nightmares for months, one including a very vivid rendition of the Eucharistic Congress on ice (after bringing my two girls to Disney on Ice mere days before I was in Lucas Oil Stadium for the National Catholic Youth Conference). It was the size of it all that scared me. Fifty five thousand people? In one place? For one purpose? Is that possible? Can Catholics do that?
There will be complaints, I thought. There will be mishaps, I was certain. There will be snarky commentary and things taken out of context and backseat driving of an event I know took so much time, effort, talent and treasure to make possible. My cynicism and anxiety and worry seemed to reign supreme, even though I knew the effort and the gifts of all those involved and believed deeply they could do something beautiful. Up until the moments the congress began, I just kept praying for a peaceful acceptance of whatever would come to pass. “Make it good, Jesus, because so many are trying to do that, too.”
We began with adoration. Silence filling a stadium. We continued with praise and worship. Hands lifted high in praise. We were rallied with inspiring words. A Sister of Life spoke truth to our hearts. I knew a mighty work was unfolding. I saw the revival literally reviving hearts. And it was only the first day.
Sitting with Jesus
But for me, the moment I realized we were doing something different, maybe something new, didn’t come at any point when I was on stage in front of thousands or smiling for selfies with people saying kind things or even when I sat in section 213 with my family as we participated with everyone in Lucas Oil Stadium.
Every morning, at 8 a.m., I had to walk through the Indianapolis Convention Center and through a tunnel connecting to Lucas Oil Stadium to get to a morning production meeting. I’d get to Meeting Room 5, drop off my backpack, and then take a quick turn into a backstage chapel, set up with a tabernacle holding the Blessed Sacrament and relics from St. Justin Martyr, St. Maria Goretti, St. Rose of Lima, and Mary and St. Joseph. And, while literally thousands of people gathered just a few feet away in a football stadium, I sat totally alone with Our Lord, for a few moments of quiet prayer.
I loved adoration with praise and worship and then moments of powerful silence with 50,000 of my closest friends. I loved Mass with those same people, receiving the Eucharist so we can go forth and spread the Gospel with our lives. But I really loved just sitting, all alone, in the backstage rooms of an NFL stadium, with Jesus. There, I was revived. There, I saw the fruits of what we were doing. There, my anxieties and worries and fears — including nightmares about a Eucharistic Congress on Ice — dissipated. Because there, in the stillness of a backstage chapel, I heard the Lord so clearly say “just sit with me.”
For years now, after a challenge in spiritual direction to read the story of Martha and Mary every day for a year, I’ve felt deeply connected to the figure of St. Martha. A woman, worried and anxious about many things as she does so much for Jesus. He’s come to dinner — of course she will set out a spread! There are drinks to fix and dishes to wash and a home to prepare. The Lord is coming, and is in fact, here! There’s much to be done. But in her anxiety and worry, after she boldly tells Jesus she is exhausted and feels alone and is consumed with the work she thinks no one sees, the Lord invites her to sit down, and just be with him. And she does. She sits down, at his feet, and just stays there. She listens. She looks at him. She is loved.
Every morning of the Eucharistic Congress, with so much going on and so much to do, with anxieties and worries and concerns and fears, the Lord tenderly invited me to just sit with him, in the quietest place around next to the noisiest venue we could’ve found, and listen to his quiet voice.
Revival is here
On Thursday morning, the producer for Lucas Oil Stadium, let’s call him S, popped into the chapel to check in with me about a microphone preference. “Handheld,” I said. “I’ll be out shortly. Just sitting with Jesus for a minute, if that’s okay.” He told me it was totally fine. He found me there again on Friday, this time just quickly asking if I minded if the podium was on stage for the start of the day. I told him it was fine. I expected a quick question on Saturday morning, too, and as I sat in what was becoming my regular “holy half hour” backstage at a football stadium, I heard him say in the hallway to someone looking for me, “Give her a minute. She’s sitting with Jesus.”
I teared up when I heard S say that, because S is not Catholic. But S, seeing all of us for days doing the most Catholic things we could do with the largest group with whom we could do it, knew that I was sitting with Jesus backstage and, in some small way, knew it was real.
Those holy half hours were my Martha moments. “Jesus, do you see what we are doing for you!?” followed by “Thank you for letting us do it, Lord,” and then I’d hear so clearly, “You’re anxious and worried about many things … just sit with me.” And S, the man who called the show and made sure mics were working and transitions were smooth and ensured every light worked, knew that the time backstage with Jesus was more important than anything happening on the stage in the stadium.
I think this will ultimately be what comes to blossom out of the 10th National Eucharistic Congress. We will hear the stories and reflect on the moments when Jesus so tenderly and lovingly said, “just sit with me.” We will learn of the conversions to deeper faith and compassion. We will see the works coming forth from those commissioned to go forth and teach and preach and serve and heal. We will come to realize that what was happening in a stadium was big and grandiose and going viral and oh so good, but even more significant was the tender movement of the Lord in each heart, the quiet holding of each one of us who may have been anxious and worried.
Revival is here. Revival is happening. Revival comes most especially when we just sit with him.
