Feeling sad, lonely, perplexed? The new Doctor of the Church can help

Years ago, I was going through a particularly dark season, feeling unmoored by a variety of painful situations, when a priest shared St. John Henry Newman's "Mission Prayer" with me. Its message immediately made me stand up a little straighter, lifting my chin and my gaze heavenward.

At the same time, the prayer was a powerful homily in a nutshell, reaffirming my vocation here on earth and inspiring me to more joyfully accomplish my often wearisome daily duties, such as caring for young children, doing laundry, and washing dishes. 

Almost a decade later, every time I say the "Mission Prayer," it has the same bolstering effect. I always wind up feeling more secure, reaffirmed, and better able to focus on my vocation.

So you can imagine my excitement at the recent Vatican announcement that St. John Henry Newman, the beloved 19th-century Anglican convert and priest, will be named the 38th Doctor of the Church on November 1, the Solemnity of All Saints.

That's probably why I've been meditating on the "Mission Prayer" from Newman's classic book Meditations and Devotions so much lately.

My favorite parts are in bold: 

The Mission Prayer by St. John Henry Newman

God knows me and calls me by my name.…
He has created me to do some definite service;
He has committed some work to me
     which He has not committed to another.
I have my mission—I never may know it in this life,
     but I shall be told it in the next.

Somehow, I am necessary for His purposes…
     I have a part in this great work;
I am a link in a chain, a bond of connection
     between persons.
He has not created me for naught. I shall do good,
     I shall do His work;
I shall be an angel of peace, a preacher of truth
     in my own place, while not intending it,
     if I do but keep His commandments
     and serve Him in my calling.

Therefore I will trust Him.
     Whatever, wherever I am,
     I can never be thrown away.
If I am in sickness, my sickness may serve Him;
In perplexity, my perplexity may serve Him;
If I am in sorrow, my sorrow may serve Him.
My sickness, or perplexity, or sorrow may be
     necessary causes of some great end,
     which is quite beyond us.
He does nothing in vain; He may prolong my life,
     He may shorten it;
     He knows what He is about.
     He may take away my friends,
     He may throw me among strangers,
     He may make me feel desolate,
     make my spirits sink, hide the future from me—
     still He knows what He is about.…
Let me be Thy blind instrument. I ask not to see—
     I ask not to know—I ask simply to be used.

It has been especially helpful to repeat my favorite snippets of this prayer (again, in bold) throughout the day whenever I'm facing a hardship or struggling with a dark mood.

I'll say "He does nothing in vain" again and again when I'm tempted to doubt. In such moments, I'll also mutter, "I will trust him" and "he knows what he's about." 

If I'm sick, I'll repeat like a broken record, "May my sickness serve him, may my sickness serve him, may my sickness serve him ...." 

These tiny aspirations (also known as arrow prayers, or as I like to think of them, "popcorn prayers") have great power to turn a depressive mindset around.

While I repeat these snippets, the entire prayer's striking imagery of a person being a "link in a great chain of faith, an angel of peace and a preacher of truth without intending it, if I do but keep his commandments" stays in my mind and suddenly the mundane task before me -- such as folding socks or cooking blue box mac and cheese for the millionth time -- doesn't feel so mundane anymore.  

St. John Henry Newman, pray for us!