One of the most sacred turning points in my spiritual journey
- Sam Whiley
- Apr 10
- 2 min read
Updated: 13 minutes ago

In recent years, one of the most sacred turning points in my spiritual journey has been entering the quiet depth of the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius of Loyola. There, I was invited to rest within the warm, unwavering gaze of a loving God— to walk with Jesus through sunlit streets and shadowed alleyways, past bustling marketplaces and silent gardens. Along the way, I've notice how His gaze restored dignity, how His steps remained unhurried - even amid the noise and the press of the crowd, and how His healing presence offered undivided attention. I saw Him touch the untouchable with tenderness, and lift the lowly with compassion.
This Sunday marks the beginning of Holy Week. A week that begins not with answers, but with footsteps. Dust rising from cloaks laid on the road. Palms waving in uncertain joy. A man on a donkey, entering a city that will love Him, then tear Him apart.
By now, if you've been following Jesus—through your own life, through prayer, through Lent—you might have caught glimpses of His tenderness. His fire. His healing and His call to follow. Now, as his life story continues - we begin to notice how He relinquishes, suffers and experiences sorrow.
What might it feel like to stay with Him, to accompany Him?
This is the heart of the Third Week of St. Ignatius’s Spiritual Exercises: Not to understand the Passion, but to feel it. Not to analyse, theologise, or bypass Christ’s suffering, but to be with Him in it - not passively, but with intention.
As a friend. As someone who loves.
You do not have to carry His cross—but what might it be like to walk beside Him. To uses your imagination and senses to enter in.
You may not know what to say.
You may not feel worthy to stay.
You may, like Peter, promise more than you deliver.
And still, Jesus wants you there.
This is how I've been learning to receive the resurrection. Not by skipping the pain, but by letting it shape me and by letting it hollow out the space where joy will rise.
I wonder what you might notice if you become an attentive friend and companion to Jesus in this passion week.
As you journey - notice:
How do you usually respond to suffering—your own, or others’? Can you sit with it, or do you try to fix or flee?
What part of Jesus’ Passion are you most drawn to? Which part do you resist?
What does “accompanying Jesus” look like in your life right now?
Can you allow yourself to be loved by the one who suffers?
What is being revealed in you during this Holy Week?