Each of us is David, and we face Goliath every day
Each of us is David, and we face Goliath every day
My spouse and I have created a weekend tradition. On Saturday afternoon, whether we’re tidying up, tending to the garden, or transporting a child to their destination, one of us will glance at the other and remind, “We must not forget about adoration tonight.” Up to this point, we have not.
It has been nearly six months since we began attending Eucharistic adoration every Saturday night from 10-11 p.m. We affectionately refer to it as “date night.” Typically, we anticipate the time spent together after a hectic week. As parents of six, we truly cherish the hour of tranquility.
Recently, though, my wife was unwell, so I attended by myself. Another pair is booked for the hour preceding ours, and after they departed, I knelt alone in the grand, lovely adoration chapel in the presence of the Blessed Sacrament, eagerly anticipating an entire hour to myself. Gazing at Christ in the monstrance, I recited the Rosary and contemplated the significant events of his early life on earth that are described in the Joyful Mysteries.
Upon completing the Rosary, I rose from my seat to peruse the countless prayer requests that fellow worshippers have anonymously penned in a book located at the back of the chapel. Every week, the requests are predominantly the same; only the writing style varies. Occasionally, there are expressions of gratitude — someone’s child has secured a job; someone’s illness has improved; someone has passed their exam or welcomed a healthy grandchild. However, the majority of the book is dominated by the struggles faced by the Body of Christ, as these devoted Catholics arrive at this continuous adoration chapel carrying significant burdens. They seek prayers for their sons and daughters who have distanced themselves from the Church; for the eternal rest of their spouses or, heaven forbid, children; for the gift of a miracle to heal their loved ones’ cancer; for job losses; for reconciliations with estranged relatives; for a daughter battling addiction. I could continue. My heart aches for each one of them.
Settled in my pew, about halfway through the hour, as I perused the First Book of Samuel, I heard the sound of the exterior security door clicking shut behind me. Shortly after, a young woman in her late teens or early 20s made her way to the front pew across the aisle and knelt on the unyielding tile floor. My knees throbbed just from observing her. After several minutes, she began to sob softly, using the back of her hand to brush away her tears. Unsure whether to inquire if she was alright or just let her grieve in the presence of the Lord, I continued reading.
As she wept, I recalled the tale of David and Goliath. The enormous Philistine warrior dared the army of Israel to send out a single individual to confront him. The consequences were monumental, as the losing side would be forced to serve the victorious nation. Observing that no one was willing to fight for the People of God, David, a youthful shepherd, stepped forward. Equipped with merely five stones and his sling, David displayed no trepidation, telling Goliath, “You come at me with sword and spear and scimitar, but I approach you in the name of the Lord of hosts, the God of the armies of Israel whom you have taunted. This day the Lord will hand you over to me” (1 Sm 17:45-46). His first stone hits the giant in the forehead, causing him to fall to the ground.
I was acquainted with the narrative — as is nearly everyone who has attended Vacation Bible School or received a “My First Bible” during their childhood — yet I had never examined it closely or, to be honest, contemplated it deeply. However, that evening during adoration, it resonated with me, and I recognized that we confront our individual Goliaths on a daily basis. The young lady weeping in front of the Blessed Sacrament undoubtedly was, along with all those who had written their intentions in the prayer book located at the rear of the chapel.
Equipped solely with our supplications, we cast them towards the skies, confident that with the Lord alongside us, victory is assured. He will defeat Goliath.
Scott Warden is managing editor of Our Sunday Visitor.
