Anima Christi; Hiding in Wounds

During the Catholic Reformation there lived an important man. Ignatius of Loyola (1491–1556) was a soldier who, upon being wounded and hospitalized, converted to Christianity and later founded The Society of Jesus which later was referred to as The Jesuits. As a former soldier he approached Christianity with a military mindset and thus was incredibly militant about discipleship and living out the Christian life. Few men in history have been as fond of and submissive to the church as Ignatius. He had a great heart for obedience, education, and missions. He wrote a beautiful piece of work entitled Anima Christi. Below is that work.

Soul of Christ, sanctify me.

Body of Christ, save me.
Blood of Christ, inebriate me.
Water from the side of Christ, wash me.
Passion of Christ, strengthen me.
O good Jesus, hear me.
Within Thy wounds, hide me.
Separated from Thee let me never be.

From the malignant enemy, defend me.
At the hour of death, call me.
To come to Thee, bid me,
That I may praise Thee in the company
Of Thy Saints, for all eternity.

Amen.

The most powerful line in this piece to me is "Within Thy wounds, hide me." The picture painted by these words is beautiful. Knowing that Ignatius spent a good chunk of time after his conversion living in a cave (a smart move in my opinion), I can't help but think of a man hiding in the wounds of Christ like he would in a cave. He wraps himself in the holes as if he were the remains of the nails that kept Jesus on those planks. The torn flesh is his blanket of safety and strength. The great proof of weakness and creates strength and victory. In the most beautiful wounds of history a man finds his refuge. Within the cave of Christ's sacrifice no enemy can come against a man. He is hidden. He is safe. He is unable to see anything except his surroundings which are the very evidences of Christ's great love. There is true safety and comfort in those tears of flesh. Strangely, in those wounds is where healing ultimately and eternally is found. Perhaps that is why Ignatius placed such a powerful sentence in the middle of this work. Even the written line is hidden between poetic walls.

I ask myself what it looks like for me to daily allow myself to be hidden in the wounds of Christ. What does it mean to enter into the suffering of Christ and find comfort, purification, and restoration there? What does it look like to be protected by the wounded Messiah? These are questions I must continue asking myself. These are questions I believe we can all ask for ourselves and our communities of faith.

What stands out in Anima Christi to you? How do you hide yourself in the wounds of Christ?