Hi there, dreamers and deep thinkers,
When I reflect on my mother’s life and faith, I find myself drawn to the two Bibles she left behind. Both were marked for the Gospel of John—a quiet yet profound testament to the beliefs she carried in her heart. My mother was Catholic. She was baptized, educated, and married in the Catholic Church, yet she didn’t attend Mass regularly. Despite this, her faith was deeply personal, tucked into the corners of her life like the pages of those marked Bibles.
Perhaps, in her moments of solitude, she turned to the Gospel of John for comfort, for guidance, or for the simple assurance that she was not alone. This is what I believe the Gospel of John must have meant to her—a connection to the divine in the silence of her struggles.
John’s Message of Love and Light
The Gospel of John stands apart from the other Gospels in its poetic and spiritual depth. From its opening words, it seeks to illuminate the divine presence in all things:
"In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God" (John 1:1).
For someone like my mother, who carried her faith quietly, these words may have felt like an anchor. They remind us that Christ is the eternal Word, the light that shines in the darkness—a light the darkness cannot overcome.
When life felt overwhelming, when she suffered in ways I may never fully understand, perhaps she clung to the truth of this passage. It promised her that no matter how heavy her burdens, she was never beyond the reach of God’s love and light.
Jesus, the Comforter of the Soul
John’s Gospel emphasizes Jesus not just as the Son of God but as the Comforter of weary souls. In moments of despair, my mother may have found solace in Jesus’ words:
"Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest" (Matthew 11:28).
While this verse is from Matthew, its sentiment reverberates throughout John. For example, in John 14:27, Jesus offers peace:
"Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid."
These verses are more than promises; they are lifelines. My mother, who endured her struggles quietly, may have sought these moments of peace in her reading, trusting that Jesus understood her pain even when others could not.
The Gospel of John and a Mother’s Silent Faith
John’s Gospel is filled with intimate stories of Jesus meeting people where they are, often in their most vulnerable moments. The Samaritan woman at the well (John 4:1-42) stands out. Jesus meets her in her isolation and offers her living water—a metaphor for the eternal life found through faith in Him.
Perhaps my mother felt seen in these stories. Maybe she identified with the Samaritan woman or the blind man healed by Jesus, both of whom were transformed not just physically but spiritually by His compassion.
John’s Gospel repeatedly emphasizes belief—not in a loud, performative way, but as an internal act of trust and surrender.
"For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life" (John 3:16).
This verse, perhaps the most famous in all of Scripture, may have been one she returned to again and again. It encapsulates the Gospel of John’s central theme: love. God’s love for humanity, Christ’s love for the broken, and the call for us to believe in that love, even when life feels unbearable.
Faith in the Face of Suffering
My mother suffered silently, or perhaps not so silently—she suffered with God. The Gospel of John speaks to this kind of faith, the kind that doesn’t need to be spoken aloud to be real. It’s the faith of someone who turns to God not for answers but for presence.
In John 11, when Jesus weeps for Lazarus, we see a Savior who grieves alongside us, who understands the weight of loss and the ache of human suffering. Maybe my mother found comfort in knowing that Jesus wept too.
What the Gospel of John Means to Me Now
Finding those marked Bibles after my mother’s passing felt like uncovering a hidden piece of her heart. The Gospel of John was her refuge, her dialogue with God in the silence of her struggles. It’s a reminder to me that faith doesn’t have to be loud to be profound. It can live quietly in the pages of a well-worn Bible, in the whispered prayers of someone who feels alone, and in the enduring hope that light always overcomes darkness.
As I read the Gospel of John now, I feel closer to my mother. I see her in the words she must have read, in the promises she must have believed, and in the God she trusted with her pain. Her faith, though quiet, was unshakable. And through John’s words, I am reminded that she was never truly alone—and neither am I.
Stay strong, stay curious,
April
Cognitive Psycho
In Loving Memory
To my mother, who found strength in the Gospel of John and left behind a legacy of quiet faith, I carry your light forward.
Have you found comfort in Scripture during difficult times? Share your thoughts or favorite passages in the comments below.
