Author: Jade Grutsch

Jade Grutsch is from Minnesota. She is the youngest of seven and was adopted as a baby. Her favorite pastime is writing songs and just being alive with any heart God allows her to encounter.
Flowers of Forgiveness

Flowers of Forgiveness

Jade Grutsch

“How can you be friends with him after he hurt you?” another friend asked me recently.

I could tell she was looking for peace, and so I gently assured her with my smile that it is indeed possible to genuinely enjoy and love someone even with a history of pain between your heart and theirs.

I replied simply saying, “It is just no longer worth it to me to spend even one day not loving.” 


I have been reflecting on the story of manna; and in my own desert life, I see the moments when I was busy storing up instead of spending my day simply being grateful for the daily bread God was giving to me. The Lord told Moses,

“Behold, I am about to rain bread from heaven for you, and the people shall go out and gather a day’s portion every day, that I may test them, whether they will walk in my law or not.”

Exodus 16:4

God wants me to cherish the people in my life just for today. I am not promised any other future except a life with Him, where pure love will be the law, and I will never hesitate to follow its perfect commands. And until I arrive to that eternal home, the purpose for my journey through this world is to prepare me with various tests to see if I can receive each day’s graces and respond with love, gratitude and forgiveness, just as My God has demonstrated for me time and time again after I have hurt Him. 


Love also reminds me of the servant who owed a large debt. His Master forgave his offense, even after there was an obvious sever of trust. Who among us has a boss that would let us off the hook for not coming in for a shift, let alone supply us more hours if we continued to fail in following through, especially with matters of money?

Yet here, this Lord removes any guilt, any shame or embarrassment, and allows his servant to take more time preparing what was owed. I imagine this servant to be feeling the most relaxed he has ever been, having basically just escaped imprisonment. Yet, his appreciation bears no fruit: when he in turn is financially slapped by one of his own slaves who had also forgotten that it was payday, he did not show the same Mercy to one whose debt was much smaller than his own offense.

I, too, am posed with the question of my own handling of offenses. How can I not share the great love given to me, day to night, for every stumble and sin, at every stopping point, constantly poured out after I have pierced the Heart of My Beloved? If He continues to overflow with graces of healing for my thirsty soul, then I refuse to be a dam preventing His Mercies from reaching those who are most in need of water. 


But on my own, I cannot love anyone. I am merely dust. Only God can love and then use me for His purpose of love. It is my brokenness that nurtures the demand my human heart has for His Love. Without the example of Grace from my Master, my encounters with another’s offenses would bear no fruit of forgiveness.

His Grace is the water. My sins are the seeds, and from their evil, His Goodness is manifested and His Flowers of Mercy are delighted in. These sins and grievances set in motion for my soul’s garden a necessary death, and I return weeping after having rejected His Goodness. In this death, Love raises me out of My Pride to His Selfless Heart—this is where I learn how to be forgiven and forgiving.

His Heart is where I learn how to love with no agenda. His Heart teaches me how to love someone after both of our human hearts have caused damage. In the classroom of His Heart, I come to know where my own choices have made my Savior Sorrowful. But also in this sorrow, I enter His Mercy. And my heart can only pray, “Dear Jesus, teach my heart how to love and forgive like you.”

Pierced and Poured Out

Pierced and Poured Out

Jade Grutsch

One Thursday evening, my friend and I enjoyed the leftovers of my grief, a meal that both fills and depletes you. I let the words out before finishing my plate, “My heart has been pierced.”

My friend inquired, “How do you do it? How do you keep showing up with your heart? I admire you for being so vulnerable and real. But also, I just don’t get it. You somehow still choose to trust, to leap and fall, even after you’ve hit the ground.”

I looked down at my cup of tea, which was now more a collection of my tears than green leaves. Turning towards the image of the Sacred Heart, I smiled with tired eyes and said, “I had a fight with Mama Mary about this actually. I told her I was done and couldn’t take any more of this pain. I begged her to take my heart away. But she told me it is better to have a heart pieced, rather than no heart at all.”


There was a silence that followed this disclosure, and my heart was comforted by the company of a fellow overthinker. I paused before admitting out loud, “My biggest fear is being buried alive.” At this rather abrupt confession, we both shared an amused burst of laughter before I continued, “C.S. Lewis writes about a heart that is no longer penetrable. It is a heart no longer open to love, scared of rejection, and thus in a constant state of avoiding anything that could make it vulnerable. This kind of heart spends its life in hiding to stay safe, yet it is practically buried in a protective case made up of its own fear.”


Again, we sat in silence as we let the candle dance and burn. 


After a moment, I admitted, “That is much worse: to be buried alive in a coffin of my own fears of loss and rejection. I would much rather be fully alive in the feelings of joy and love, which do inevitably come with the cost of accepting pain. As my dear Brother Titus reminds me:

God gives us roses because He loves us, and thorns because He loves us more.

“The kind of lover I want to be is one who does not take offense, but takes every opportunity to learn how to better serve the other person,” I continued. “This love shows up without an agenda. Rather, it becomes purer as it seeks only to give and never to take. I am not perfect at this love and there are many areas in my heart, which desperately need His Refining Mercy. We are not ever going to perfectly love one another. It is only to the capacity of our reception of His Love that we are then able to share Pure Love with each other. A heart that is closed cannot receive and likewise cannot share the gift of its Maker’s Love. That is why we must stay open, pierced and poured out, if we are striving to live in the Image of Our Creator.”


Upon further reflection beyond the setting of dinner with my companion, I came to the conclusion that perhaps it is better to be left hanging, just as Our Lord was left on the Cross… hanging and poured out, pierced and abandoned, loved by only His Mother and dearest friend—this was somehow the chosen vocation for God’s Beloved Son. And so, am I, His Beloved Daughter, not also called to the same fate? Are we not all called to be in His Family, carrying out His Legacy of sacrificial love?