Kiss of Jesus

Painting: Christ in the Storm on the Sea of Galilee by Ludolf Bakhuizen (1695), downloaded from Wikipedia

Before Mass today, I received an incredible consolation from this passage of St. John Henry Newman, at time an Anglican writing in 1837, before his reception into the Catholic Church on 9 October 1845:

But in truth the whole course of Christianity from the first, when we come to examine it, is but one series of troubles and disorders. Every century is like every other, and to those who live in it seems worse than all times before it. The Church is ever ailing, and lingers on in weakness, "always bearing about in the body the dying of the Lord Jesus, that the life also of Jesus might be made manifest in her body." Religion seems ever expiring, schisms dominant, the light of Truth dim, its adherents scattered. The cause of Christ is ever in its last agony, as though it were but a question of time whether it fails finally this day or another. The Saints are ever all but failing from the earth, and Christ all but coming; and thus the Day of judgment is literally ever at hand; and it is our duty ever to be looking out for it, not disappointed that we have so often said, "now is the moment," and that at the last, contrary to our expectation, Truth has somewhat rallied. Such is God's will, gathering in His elect, first one and then another, by little and little, in the intervals of sunshine between storm and storm, or snatching them from the surge of evil, even when the waters rage most furiously. Well may prophets cry out "How long will it be, O Lord, to the end of these wonders?" how long will this mystery proceed? how long will this perishing world be sustained by the feeble lights which struggle for existence in its unhealthy atmosphere? God alone knows the day and the hour when that will at length be, which He is ever threatening; meanwhile, thus much of comfort do we gain from what has been hitherto,—not to despond, not to be dismayed, not to be anxious, at the troubles which encompass us. They have ever been; they ever shall be; they are our portion. "The floods are risen, the floods have lift up their voice, the floods lift up their waves. The waves of the sea are mighty, and rage horribly; but yet the Lord, who dwelleth on high, is mightier."

It's strange to those outside the faith—and indeed, even to some of those who profess faith in Christ—to find joy in suffering. It's not the joy of suffering, but the peace found within the eye of the storm.

For an example outside of a religious context, I think Ross Viner's brush with fame, and singing on stage with Sting might help. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EJqQjMpgNcA

On stage, it's a moment of joy, but it's obvious that Sting wrote the song at a painful moment in his life. And even within the song of pain, Sting relates the moment when he smiles:

I took a walk alone last night
I looked up at the stars
To try and find an answer in my life
I chose a star for me
I chose a star for him
I chose two stars for my kids and one star for my wife
Something made me smile
Something seemed to ease the pain
Something about the universe and how it's all connected

In the moment of suffering, a person connects with transcendence and finds joy.

In 33 Days to Morning Glory, Fr. Michael Gaitley repeats a famous story told by St. Teresa of Calcutta: "At times you come so close to Jesus on the cross that he can kiss you. I once told this to a lady who was suffering very much. She answered, "Tell Jesus not to kiss me — to stop kissing me.'"

To be sure, consolations don't always come, and they cannot be expected, but sometimes, one can be so close to the Cross, that Jesus can kiss you. It's not the suffering that brings joy, but the intimate kiss of Jesus.