He Gets It: What the Passion and Resurrection Reveal About Your Pain, Your Life, and Your Relationships

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There is a question that sits quietly underneath so many of our struggles:

“Does anyone actually understand what this feels like?”

Not in theory, not from a distance, but really understand.

Because when you’re overwhelmed…
When your relationships feel heavy…
When you’re carrying stress, grief, loneliness, or exhaustion…

It can feel incredibly isolating.

Even when you’re surrounded by people.

 

Holy Week answers that question in a way nothing else can:

You are not alone in anything you experience.

Not one emotion.
Not one fear.
Not one moment of pain.

Because in the Passion, Jesus didn’t just suffer—
He entered into the full human experience.

He Knows What It Feels Like

If you’ve ever…

Felt anxious about what’s ahead → Jesus in the Garden
Asked “Is there another way?” → Jesus before His arrest
Felt abandoned or alone → “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
Been misunderstood or falsely judged → His trial
Been betrayed by someone close to you → Judas, Peter
Felt rejected → The crowd choosing Barabbas
Experienced physical or emotional exhaustion → Carrying the cross
Felt exposed, vulnerable, or humiliated → The crucifixion

He’s been there.

Not symbolically.
Not metaphorically.

Personally.

This is what makes Christianity so unique in the realm of both faith and mental health:

We don’t follow a God who observes suffering.

We follow a God who entered into it.

 

So often, our pain intensifies when we feel alone in it.

Isolation doesn’t just happen physically—it happens internally.

It sounds like:

“No one gets this.”
“I shouldn’t feel this way.”
“I just need to push through.”
“Other people have it worse.”

But Holy Week interrupts that narrative.

Because Jesus doesn’t minimize your experience.
He validates it by having lived it.

And at the same time—He doesn’t leave you in it.

He Is With You in It, Not Just Waiting on the Other Side

Sometimes we think of God as waiting for us at the finish line.

“Once I get through this… then I’ll be okay. Then God will show up.”

But the Passion tells a different story.

God meets us:

In the anxiety
In the conflict
In the grief
In the confusion
In the exhaustion

He is not just present in your healing.

He is present in your process.

And the Resurrection Means This Isn’t the End

If the Passion tells us, “He understands,”
the Resurrection tells us, “There is hope.”

Because no matter what you are facing:

A struggling relationship
A season of burnout
Old wounds that keep resurfacing
Patterns you’re trying to break

This is not where your story has to end.

The Resurrection doesn’t erase what happened.

It transforms what seemed final into something that can be redeemed.

 

When we begin to live from this truth—that we are understood, accompanied, and not alone—it changes how we show up with others.

We become:

Less reactive, because we’re not fighting our pain alone
More compassionate, because we recognize suffering in others
More grounded, because our identity isn’t dependent on others’ responses
More capable of real connection, because we’re not hiding

We stop asking others to fully carry what only God can hold.

And from that place, we can love more freely and more fully.

An Invitation for This Week

As you walk through Holy Week and into Easter, consider this:

Where in your life do you feel most alone right now?

Bring that place to Him.

Not the cleaned-up version.
Not the “I should be fine” version.

The real version.

Because He’s already been there.

And He’s not just saying,
“I understand.”

He’s saying,
“I’m here. Right here, in this with you.”

And I will walk with you—
through the cross,
through the silence,
and into new life.

Forgiveness Doesn’t Always Mean Reconciliation

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Kara hadn’t had contact with her abusive father for years — an intentional decision she felt was necessary for her safety and healing.

Recently, though, her father reached out, asking to reconnect.

“I’m honestly afraid to let him back into my life,” she wrote in a note to the More2Life radio show hosted by Dr. Greg and Lisa Popcak. “I don’t trust him, and I worry about exposing my children to someone who hurt me so deeply.

“When I told him no, he accused me of being unforgiving and unchristian. That really shook me. I believe in forgiveness, but I don’t know if forgiveness means putting myself or my family back in harm’s way. How do I forgive without pretending the past didn’t happen, and how do I honor God without ignoring my own boundaries?”

Kara isn’t alone in her dilemma; many faithful Christians face situations like hers: An ex-spouse who caused serious harm pushes for restored contact. A family member who has never acknowledged the damage they caused demands to be welcomed back in. Remembering Jesus’ command to forgive (even repeatedly), some people may feel pressured to restore a harmful relationship — or, alternatively, might feel guilty for saying “no.”

The key to situations like this, the Popcaks said, is to understand the difference between forgiveness and reconciliation.

Forgiveness vs. Reconciliation

As Christians, we are called to lean into God’s abundant mercy and forgiveness, and then share that same mercy and forgiveness with one another, Dr. Popcak explained.

“But it’s important to understand what that really means,” Lisa Popcak added. “Forgiveness does not require us to pretend that an offense never happened or that things are better than they actually are.”

Instead, forgiveness means wanting to give up the desire to hurt somebody for having hurt you, Dr. Popcak said. It means getting to the place where you can genuinely wish the other person well — even when you don’t feel like it.

Reconciliation is a different matter entirely.

“Reconciliation means that the person who hurt you has done the work necessary to be safe to be around and build a relationship with,” Dr. Popcak explained.

Forgiveness is something you can give unilaterally, in your own heart, regardless of what the other person does. Reconciliation requires something from both sides — most importantly, genuine accountability from the one who caused the harm.

Kara had forgiven her father. That didn’t mean she was obligated to hand him access to her family.

Dr. Popcak pointed to something telling in Kara’s situation: her father’s response when she said no.

“If he was safe to be around, his response would have been, ‘I totally get that, and it breaks my heart that you feel that way, and I hope that someday you might feel differently, but I respect your boundary and I understand where you’re coming from based on the way that I’ve hurt you,'” Dr. Popcak said. “His calling you unchristian and unforgiving and trying to manipulate you into having a relationship speaks to how unsafe he still is.”

Maintaining the safe boundary with her father may have felt uncomfortable for Kara. However, as the Popcaks pointed out, that decision was actually a loving response to the situation.

For one thing, keeping her father at a distance until he is able to handle the relationship safely and responsibly is charitable toward him because it helps him avoid a near occasion of sin — a situation that predictably brings out the worst in us. For example, an alcoholic doesn’t put himself in a bar, and someone who loves an alcoholic doesn’t invite him into one either.

And as Lisa pointed out, Kara’s decision to keep a safe boundary between her father and her children was both appropriate and also a very real expression of love.

Sometimes working for the good of the other makes us feel uncomfortable. But in the end, the true measure of love isn’t how it makes us feel, but whether it truly seeks the best outcome for the other, and all involved — in this case, safety for herself and her kids, and real healing for her father.

Are We Ready to Reconcile? 3 Questions to Ask

If someone from your past is pushing for restored contact, the Popcaks’ framework suggests three honest questions worth sitting with before you respond.

1. Have they acknowledged the harm they caused?

Not a vague “I’m sorry if you were hurt” — but a clear, specific acknowledgment of what they did and how it affected you. A person who cannot name their offense is not in a position to repair it. Accountability is the foundation of reconciliation, and without it, the same patterns are likely to repeat.

2. How did they respond when you said no?

This is often the clearest signal available. A person who responds to your limits with guilt-tripping, pressure, or spiritual manipulation is showing you exactly where they still are. Let the response speak for itself.

3. Are you both strong enough?

Reconciliation isn’t just about whether you can handle it. Inviting someone into a situation they’re not equipped to handle isn’t mercy — it’s setting everyone up to fail.

Even a Closed Door Can Have a Key

As the Popcaks frequently remind, setting and maintaining healthy boundaries does not necessarily mean cutting off all possibility of a relationship. A healthy boundary is like a door that needs to be closed when a situation is not safe or healthy.

But at the same time, you are closing the door on that part of your relationship, you can also give the other person a key, a set of conditions that need to be met before true reconciliation is possible.

Dr. Popcak offered Kara a possible response to her father. Notice how it maintains a healthy boundary while also providing a key that her father can use, if he chooses: “The fact that rather than hearing what I was trying to say to you and responding with sensitivity, you tried to manipulate me and push your way into my life — that says to me that nothing’s changed,” Dr. Popcak suggested. “Until you can really accept responsibility for what you did and acknowledge the pain you’ve caused, it wouldn’t make sense for me to have you in my life. I will continue to pray for you, and I hope that someday you can hear this.”

That is a statement of genuine forgiveness. It wishes the other person healing. It provides the  key to a restored relationship. And it holds a clear line — not out of bitterness, but out of honesty about where things actually stand.

For more help thinking through a difficult relationship, check out Dr. Greg Popcak’s book God Help Me! These People Are Driving Me Nuts! Making Peace With Difficult People. And for one-on-one support, reach out to a pastoral counselor at CatholicCounselors.com.

Pastoral Malpractice

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Pastoral Malpractice

– Dr. Greg Popcak

A physician I know was recently faced a dilemma. A patient of hers on pain medication began engaging in behaviors that made it clear the patient was abusing, and possibly, selling, his meds. The doctor had to refuse to refill the prescription and recommend an alternative course of treatment. The patient stormed out, accusing her of being, “uncaring and unprofessional.”

Sadly, treatments can be abused. When they are, responsible caregivers must refuse those treatments until the problems preventing them from being effective are overcome. The failure to do so can constitute professional malpractice.

The fact is, even the treatments prescribed by the Divine Physician can be abused. God gives us the sacraments to treat the spiritual illness—sin–that damages our relationships with God and others. Normally, these “treatments” should be readily available to every Christian “patient.” The sacraments aren’t rewards for good behavior.  They’re treatments for spiritual disease. But when treatments are abused, they must be refused.

Take Confession. If someone confesses a sin but says he intends to keep committing the same sin, the priest—who functions as a kind of Divine “Physician Assistant” when it comes to the sacraments—is actually obliged to deny absolution.  For pastors to give absolution under such circumstances would be to encourage the sinful behavior and make themselves party to it by spiritually enabling it.

The Eucharist is another example. It’s the ultimate “spiritual treatment” for healing the damage sin does to our relationships with God and others. But this “treatment” isn’t magic. In order for it to be efficacious, the recipient needs to be seeking strength to live the Christian vision of love. If someone receives communion because they want help overcoming the struggles they face in learning to love like Christ, they should never be denied communion because it’s the very “medicine” they are looking for.

But what if someone’s persistent behavior severely wounds the Body of Christ? What if they dedicate themselves to organizing racist rallies? What if they eagerly promote the slaughter of children in the name of “healthcare?” What if this person has been begged dozens—even hundreds–of times to stop wounding the Body of Christ in such a way, but they dismiss those warnings, insisting that what they’re doing is actually good? Let’s further say that this person draws deep personal comfort from being allowed to receive the Eucharist.

Should they? Is it responsible to allow anyone to experience spiritual consolation while they intentionally, persistently, and unapologetically scourged the Body of Christ? In St. Ignatius’ words, wouldn’t such a consolation, in fact, be a desolation of the Enemy?

Of course, God would certainly forgive such a person, but even God can’t forgive someone who doesn’t believe they need it. And to know we need forgiveness, don’t we need to be allowed to feel the separation from God that our actions necessarily cause?

Permitting such a person to receive the Eucharist not only allows him to “eat and drink judgment on himself” (1 Cor 11:29) but also constitutes pastoral malpractice (c.f. Ezekial 3:18).

As the bishops continue to debate whether to allow President Biden to receive communion, they would do well to stop letting  ideologues frame this as a political issue and, instead, take a clear stand against pastoral malpractice. There is nothing “pastoral” about letting people use the Body of Christ as an anesthetic to numb themselves while they abuse the Body of Christ.

Dr. Greg Popcak is the author of many books and the Executive Director of the Pastoral Solutions Institute (CatholicCounselors.com).

Hurting/Angry Over Mass Suspensions? Finding Spiritual Consolation in Times of Pandemic

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It felt like a gut punch.  This past week, the Ohio Bishops’ Conference, along with many other dioceses and bishops’ conferences across the country have suspended the celebration of Mass through Easter.

Last weekend was the first weekend I haven’t been to mass since…I can’t remember.  It was certainly the first time I have ever missed mass without being ill and unable to leave the house.  And I have never once missed any of the Holy Week liturgies—especially Easter Sunday mass. I found myself experiencing a mix of emotions; sadness, frustration, a spiritual ache, even some anger.

Not Alone

I know I’m not alone. I have had many conversations with clients in my Catholic tele-counseling practice and callers to my radio program around this issue.  People–already worried and anxious about how the pandemic is impacting their lives–are feeling cut off from their most important spiritual resources.  As one caller put it, “They are taking away the Eucharist when we need Jesus the most!”  

As I was praying through my own pain of not being able to receive Our Lord in the Eucharist, I felt the Holy Spirit move in my heart.  I remembered the parable of The Good Samaritan (Luke 10:29-37).

The Good Samaritan

You may remember that in the story, a man is beaten by robbers and left to die on the road. A priest passes by on the way to temple, but can’t stop for fear of being made unclean from contact with the wounded man.  Next, a Levite, also fails to stop to help the man for fear of being made unclean and unable to attend temple.  Finally, a Samaritan stops to tend to the man’s wounds and bring him to a place where he can be cared for.  At the end of the story, Jesus challenges us to be like the Samaritan. 

What does this have to do with our present crisis? It means we need to step back and ask our selves, “What is the point of going to Church?  What is the fruit the Eucharist is meant to bear in our lives?”  The answer, of course, is that by attending Mass and receiving the Precious Body and Blood, God heals the broken parts of our hearts so that we can more effectively love our neighbor as God needs us to.

Love One Another

Of course, the Eucharist exists to be a source of personal consolation, but it has to be more than that.  It has to ultimately equip us with the grace we need to love more, to love better, to love as God wants us to.

Loving someone means “working for their good.”  If the entire point of receiving Christ in the Eucharist is loving others, what does it mean to “work for the good of our neighbor” in the midst of this pandemic?  It means willingly embracing the cross that social distancing requires of us so that we can “flatten the curve” and end this crisis quickly with as little loss of human life as possible.  Sometimes, true love requires abstinence.  This is one of those times.

A True Lenten Mortification

In Lent, we’re called to make sacrifices that will enable us to love better and build God’s kingdom. Sometimes, it can be tempting to choose sacrifices that make us feel good about ourselves.  “I’m going to do THIS for God!  Aren’t I wonderful?!?”  Although rooted in a good intention, this misses the point. True sacrifice isn’t about doing what we want to do for God. Rather, it’s about doing what God asks us to do for him and our neighbor.

It takes real humility to cheerfuly accept the sacrificies God brings into our lives, to consecrate those sacrifices to him, and to ask him for the grace to rise to these challenges in a manner that glorifies him, helps us respond to the people around us in a way that works for their good, and helps us become the people he wants us to be.  

Spiritual Communion & Commission

If you are struggling, as I am, with not being able to attend mass for the next several weeks, bring it to God. Offer up your pain with a prayer that goes something like this.  “Lord, my heart is longing to receive you, but while I am waiting to be reunited with your Precious Body and Blood, fill my heart with your love and grace. Heal the broken parts of my heart.  Help me respond to this challenge in a way that gives you glory, shares your love more fully with the people in my life, and makes me the person you want me to be.”

This prayer, and others like it, are what Catholics call “spiritual communion.”  It represents a desire to pursue union with God and the grace to build his kingdom even when the normal avenues of grace (i.e, the sacraments) are not available to us.  God gives us the sacraments as a gift, but he is not bound by his sacraments and his love and grace rush to fill in any space we open to him.  

While we wait in joyful hope to be able to encounter the Lord at mass and receive him once again in the Eucharist, make a spiritual communion as often as you can and participate in masses broadcast on TV or the radio as opften as possible. Until we can once again receive the Body of Christ, let us all pray for the grace to be the Body of Christ—especially to those the Lord has placed in our path.

Not a Gumball God – A Gospel Meditation for the 6th Sunday in Ordinary Time

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“I feel like I sacrifice everything for my kids, running them to all their activities, and yet they don’t seem to like me. It breaks my heart…”

“I make a good living, I’m not mean, and still my wife says that I don’t show her I love her – what gives?”

“I say a rosary every day but I still don’t feel God. In fact, I feel nothing.”

What do these questions have in common? Well, for starters, they all convey deep hurt and confusion. We’ve all asked these questions or questions like them at one time or another, and the pain and exhaustion they communicate is all too real. If you’re asking some versions of these questions right now, please know that I am praying for you. I of all people know how bad that feels.

Secondly and more importantly, however, these questions have another fundamental trait in common: they are all gumball questions.

“Gumball questions” are what I call the confusions that arise when we treat the people in our lives as though they are purely transactional. Although these types of relationships take many forms and flavors, they all boil down to a simple belief about relationships: “If I do A, you should do B.”

How often do we fall into the trap of turning those we love into gumball machines? Nevermind what my spouse actually needs or wants, I say to myself, I’ll just do A, B, and C and then I’ll qualify as a “good” partner. Nevermind that it’s taking a toll on my children and on my family, we repeat, I HAVE to take them to all 500 extracurricular activities this week because that will make me a “good” mom. Nevermind my personal relationship with God, we insist, I’m sure if I pray ten novenas and get the words just right, He’ll give me what I want, tell me what to do, and I’ll be a “good” Christian.

In the gospel from Matthew 5, however, we learn something jarring: Jesus doesn’t want “good” partners. He doesn’t want “good parents”. He certainly doesn’t want “good Christians”. Jesus wants nothing short of all-consuming relationship.

Jesus, it seems, is not the “Gumball God” we might want Him to be, the God it might be easier to worship. Instead, He tells us to go deeper than mere transaction. No longer is it enough to just “not murder”; Christ tells us we have to actively build others up instead. No longer is it enough to just “avoid porn”; Christ tells us we must actively pursue healthy, holy relationship. No longer is it enough to just “not do wrong”. Now, we must be right.

If you’re anything like me, the premise of this edict is completely exhausting and defeating. After all, we’re already trying so hard to do everything right, and now God tells us He wants… what? For us to do it with more feeling? With a smile on our face?

No. None of that. All Christ wants is relationship. He wants you to have a relationship with your spouse where you listen to each other and respond based on your partner’s specific needs, not based on what would make you a “good spouse” according to some arbitrary checklist. He wants you to have a relationship with your children where you make parenting decisions based on their unique hearts, not based on what makes you a “good parent” in the eyes of the co-op or the neighborhood or even the parish. And more than anything, Christ wants a deep, profound, personal relationship with you; a relationship defined by authenticity, intimacy, and vulnerable sharing.

Why? Because Jesus is not a “Gumball God”. He’s just God. He wants to get to know you. Will you get to know Him?

Jacob Popcak, M.A., L.P.C. is an award-winning Catholic artist and a counseling associate of the Pastoral Solutions Institute. He can be contacted through CatholicCounselors.com.

“I feel like I sacrifice everything for my kids, running them to all their activities, and yet they don’t seem to like me. It breaks my heart…”

“I make a good living, I’m not mean, and still my wife says that I don’t show her I love her – what gives?”

“I say a rosary every day but I still don’t feel God. In fact, I feel nothing.”

What do these questions have in common? Well, for starters, they all convey deep hurt and confusion. We’ve all asked these questions or questions like them at one time or another, and the pain and exhaustion they communicate is all too real. If you’re asking some versions of these questions right now, please know that I am praying for you. I of all people know how bad that feels.

Secondly and more importantly, however, these questions have another fundamental trait in common: they are all gumball questions.

“Gumball questions” are what I call the confusions that arise when we treat the people in our lives as though they are purely transactional. Although these types of relationships take many forms and flavors, they all boil down to a simple belief about relationships: “If I do A, you should do B.”

How often do we fall into the trap of turning those we love into gumball machines? Nevermind what my spouse actually needs or wants, I say to myself, I’ll just do A, B, and C and then I’ll qualify as a “good” partner. Nevermind that it’s taking a toll on my children and on my family, we repeat, I HAVE to take them to all 500 extracurricular activities this week because that will make me a “good” mom. Nevermind my personal relationship with God, we insist, I’m sure if I pray ten novenas and get the words just right, He’ll give me what I want, tell me what to do, and I’ll be a “good” Christian.

In the gospel from Matthew 5, however, we learn something jarring: Jesus doesn’t want “good” partners. He doesn’t want “good parents”. He certainly doesn’t want “good Christians”. Jesus wants nothing short of all-consuming relationship.

Jesus, it seems, is not the “Gumball God” we might want Him to be, the God it might be easier to worship. Instead, He tells us to go deeper than mere transaction. No longer is it enough to just “not murder”; Christ tells us we have to actively build others up instead. No longer is it enough to just “avoid porn”; Christ tells us we must actively pursue healthy, holy relationship. No longer is it enough to just “not do wrong”. Now, we must be right.

If you’re anything like me, the premise of this edict is completely exhausting and defeating. After all, we’re already trying so hard to do everything right, and now God tells us He wants… what? For us to do it with more feeling? With a smile on our face?

No. None of that. All Christ wants is relationship. He wants you to have a relationship with your spouse where you listen to each other and respond based on your partner’s specific needs, not based on what would make you a “good spouse” according to some arbitrary checklist. He wants you to have a relationship with your children where you make parenting decisions based on their unique hearts, not based on what makes you a “good parent” in the eyes of the co-op or the neighborhood or even the parish. And more than anything, Christ wants a deep, profound, personal relationship with you; a relationship defined by authenticity, intimacy, and vulnerable sharing.

Why? Because Jesus is not a “Gumball God”. He’s just God. He wants to get to know you. Will you get to know Him?

Jacob Popcak, M.A., L.P.C. is an award-winning Catholic artist and a counseling associate of the Pastoral Solutions Institute. He can be contacted through CatholicCounselors.com.

God Goes to Flavor Town – a Reflection for the Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time

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“But if salt loses its taste, with what can it be seasoned?”

How often do we try to be someone or something else? How often do we try to fit into someone else’s mould of holiness?

Personally, I think this is an especially big temptation for us Catholics. We have so many examples of holiness to look to, both in the saints and in the sanitized version of the saints we see on holy cards, that we can feel inadequate by comparison. We strive in vain to meet their standard, adapt to their way, and mimic them… mostly poorly.

But Christ doesn’t want us to assimilate to some other standard of holiness. Instead, He cruises into the spiritual Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives that are our hearts and tells us, radically, that our flavor is enough. He loves your flavor. He designed it. In His grand plan for the Universe, He intends your specific and unique flavor to serve as a vital ingredient in the donkey sauced-gumbo of creation. He doesn’t want you try in vain to exchange your flavor for someone else’s lest you lose your flavor in the process.

Christ doesn’t need any more Saint Patricks or Saint Theresas. He needs a Saint You. Christ doesn’t need anymore missionaries to Ireland or Corinth; He needs a missionary to your specific family, to your friend group, to your people. He wants you to “shine before others”. He wants your seasoning, your flavor. What are you going to do to give it to Him?

Jacob Popcak, M.A., L.P.C. is an award-winning Catholic artist and a counseling associate of the Pastoral Solutions Institute. He can be contacted through CatholicCounselors.com.