It was the middle of the flu and cold season here in Michigan. Health officials recommended getting flu shots as soon as possible because the worst time was approaching. So many kids were already sick that several area schools had closed.

My thought at the time was: “Neither my wife, my son nor I have been sick in two years.” My prayer was, “Thank you, Lord. Please get us through this winter in good health.”

“But if anyone does get sick,” I added, “let it be me, not my family. I will take their share of illness for them.”

I’m not sure where the thought to pray that prayer came from. It’s not characteristic of me. In any case, two weeks passed. Then I began getting my first symptoms.

I remembered my prayer, and gave assent to God’s will in this area again. I figured that, at worst, I would have a mild cold and be a hero for it. Five days later, most of them spent in bed, I began to question my rashness. What had I done? And why?

Or had I done anything? Could I really take on the colds and flu of two other people? I re-read the verse where St. Paul seems to indicate that such a thing is possible: “Now I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I am filling up what is lacking in the afflictions of Christ on behalf of his body, which is the Church.” (Colossians 1:24). 

Regardless, the whole experience left me with a greater appreciation of Jesus’ suffering. Which was timely, since Lent was just beginning — as it is about to once again: March 1 is Ash Wednesday.

For one thing, I see better now the magnitude and intensity of what Jesus must have gone through. I only carried the cold and flu sufferings of two persons for five days. In contrast, Jesus carried all of the physical, mental and spiritual illnesses of the whole world — past, present and future. So if I multiplied my sickness by a billion, that might begin to give a slight glimpse of what he suffered.

I once thought that the pain Jesus endured on Holy Thursday and Good Friday was primarily what killed him. Perhaps it was. But it also seems clear that he experienced a significant degree of suffering throughout his life, especially during his public ministry. He wasn’t the Lamb of God and the Suffering Servant just for a couple days at the end of his life. Hebrews 5:8 tells us that he learned obedience through what he suffered.

Another thing I appreciate more now is Our Savior’s attitude. He, “for the sake of the joy that lay before him, endured the cross, despising its shame” (Hebrews 12:2). While I was sick, I focused on my poor head and stomach, and reminded anyone nearby with my groans how badly I felt.

Mine was a pretty wicked flu. Knowing what I know now, would I make the same promise again? I hope I would, but I’m not sure.

Meanwhile, Jesus knew beforehand what he was getting into when he left his place beside the Father. And yet he willingly came to us, knowing some would respond and some would not. He came, out of love for us and for his Father, with the intent to suffer that we might be free. St. John says that “He came to his own and his own knew him not.”

Welcome to Lent, everyone.

Bob Horning writes from

Ann Arbor, Michigan.