Station 9: Jesus Falls the Third Time

By Bethany Vu

Sometimes when I am in the middle of a time of great suffering, I look back on the moment I made the decision that would inevitably lead me here. I try to recall in vivid detail what the circumstances were, what I was thinking and feeling, and I ask myself whether I made the right call. What was so important that I walked myself into this place of pain? Was it worth it, or did I misjudge something?

On a recent discernment weekend at the Jesuit Retreat Center, I knelt to pray before a statue of Jesus in the garden. Unlike us — who only gain clarity in hindsight — Jesus must have known what lay ahead of Him, right? He would have known the betrayal, the torture, the abandonment that would mark the end of His life. But as I contemplated His posture in prayer, I noticed that He wasn’t looking at His hands, which would soon be nailed to the cross, nor at His friends nearby who would soon scatter. His eyes (though admittedly a statue) were fixed on the Father above.

I imagined that when He fell that third time, Jesus recalled this moment — this gaze, this grounding — and found purpose and peace that fueled Him to rise again, despite everything that would follow.

Jesus’ third fall shows the depth of His humanity and the height of His love.

There have been many moments when I made the wrong call. When I chased the love of someone who was clearly emotionally unavailable. When I chose to see only the bad in someone and burned the bridge between us. When I sacrificed something valuable for something hollow.

But there have also been moments in my life when, no matter what suffering followed, I know I would make the same choice again. For all the valleys I’ve walked through, I would always choose my husband, my children, true friendship, and meaningful work. In my humanity, I have failed in my capacity as a wife, mother, friend, and servant time and time again.

Dear Jesus, remind me to keep my eyes fixed on the Father — the One whose voice calls me to sacrificial love, and whose strong hand lifts me up each time without fail.