Contemplating Christian

It's 2009.

2009-03-10T00:10:00.002-04:00

How did that happen?

I have thoughts percolating. I'll share them shortly. Mostly, though, I wanted anyone who may have read this blog to know that I'm still alive, and still happily Catholic. :) It's been an interesting three years. More to say later. I hope everyone is having a blessed Lent.

Lord have mercy.

2008-10-21T10:07:00.002-04:00

Grab a tissue, set aside five minutes of your life, and watch this. Then think about the fact that this happens a million times a year, we just don't hear the details because the act is usually committed entirely inside the bodies of mothers -- hidden, like the babies who were supposed to be safe there.

I pray these little souls will not have died in vain -- that the fact that they held on long enough for people to see the horrifying truth of what abortion is will be enough to soften people's hearts -- especially Barack Obama's heart, which, judging by the quotes and clips in this 5 minute video, is currently harder than diamonds.

(Disclaimer: This is NOT a graphic video, but it's definitely adult content, so if your kids can read, watch this in private.)

Oh, she was only kidding about that baby murder thing ....

2008-04-17T21:50:00.003-04:00

Follow up to an earlier post:

If she's now telling the truth (see, the thing about liars is you never know when to believe them), then I am thankful that no babies were sacrificed for her pathetic attempt at "art." However, I am somewhat perplexed at the reaction from Yale. If she had really done what she said she did, it would have violated an ethical standard? They would have been concerned for her mental health? On what grounds? If abortion is okay once, why is it not okay a dozen times? How many babies can a woman murder before Yale thinks she has a problem?

I would be amused at the ethical contortions of those pro-aborts who have commented on this story if the subject matter was less grave.

Artist, or Serial Killer?

2008-04-17T09:48:00.002-04:00

Only in our messed up world would society's answer be "both." Lord have mercy. Christ have mercy. Lord have mercy.

Link (WARNING: EXTREMELY GRAPHIC AND DISTURBING CONTENT)

AAARRRGGGGH!

2008-04-17T08:16:00.003-04:00

AAAAARRRRRRGGGGHHHHH!

On the bright side, I think I just found a bright side to the fact that I didn't get tickets to the Papal mass .... I won't have to be there while this nonsense is going on.

I would ask if these politicians even care a little bit about the state of their souls, but just a glance at the headline really tells all on that point.

Will Bush do the Blair thing?

2008-04-16T22:47:00.003-04:00

So, with the Papal visit and accompanying media circus in full swing, the Big Rumor is that President Bush has been wading his way across the Tiber for the last several years and just may convert once his term is up. I'm a bit skeptical, but I would have been a bit skeptical of my own conversion if I'd heard it as a rumor beforehand, too.

On the one hand, I pray for President Bush that he will embrace the fullness of truth in the Catholic Church. I'm all for restoring the body of believers, one convert at a time. That said, I find myself feeling the same frustration I had with Tony Blair -- if he's converted in his heart, what's with the delay in acting on it?

I know, all things in God's good time, but the man knew he wanted to be a Catholic and put it off until politically convenient. And if that's not what he did, he at least had to know it would look that way. So he's either spineless or .... well, I don't know what. In charity, I will assume he had his reasons to wait. But in general, I'm a firm believer that when you realize the truth about the Church, you don't sit on your hands and do nothing until the timing is perfect. Was it the Ethiopian eunuch who said "Baptize me NOW!"? I want to see that kind of reckless abandon from world leaders who make this decision. Be a fool for Christ. Set the example. The world is watching.

Thought for the Day

2008-04-03T13:07:00.004-04:00

Beauty this awesome cannot be random.

(For a detailed explanation of the above image, click here.)

If you have to ask ....

2008-03-27T15:11:00.004-04:00

I sometimes lurk on Catholic Answers forums while feeding my five-month-old. A question with endless (yet remarkably similar) variations that comes up constantly there is "Do I still have to go to Confession if (I'm really sorry, I did an extra penance, I did an Act of Contrition, I already took Communion anyway, the legal statute of limitations has expired, it's Tuesday, etc., etc., etc.)?"

I'm going to make this really easy: If in doubt, GO TO CONFESSION. Whether you "have to" or not. It will make you feel better, and more importantly, it will literally cleanse your soul. The goal should not be avoiding the Confessional at all costs .... the goal should be the squeaky clean soul, bathed in grace and working at peak competency.

Don't try and avoid it. There's nothing you can say that the Priest hasn't heard before, and God already knows you did it, so you don't need to pretend you're hiding from Him, either. Remember Jonah and the Big Fish? How did hiding from God work out for that guy? Yeah, I thought so.

If you're asking yourself (or worse, OTHER PEOPLE!) if it's absolutely necessary for you to go confess whatever you did, then it's a safe bet you'd be helped by the Sacrament, whether strictly required or not. So get thee to a Priest, confess your sin, bask in God's forgiveness and grace, and move on with your life! It has to be better than agonizing over whether or not to go and asking random people on an internet discussion forum whether your sin was evil enough to damn you to hell.

How I wasted (and didn't waste) Lent '08.

2008-03-23T22:55:00.011-04:00

In my last post, I mentioned that I didn't put much effort into Lent this year. I won't make excuses for it. Being busy, tired, worn down, in a funk, or whatever is no excuse for wasting opportunities for grace (in fact, they are reasons to seize those opportunities!). But for whatever reason, I just couldn't get into Lent this year.

I had grand plans. Last year, Lent was amazing. I did daily spiritual reading, prayed the Rosary with regularity, gave things away, kept my difficult Lenten promises .... in 2007, God allowed me to be a Lenten powerhouse and showed me in my first Lent as a Catholic what that season of sacrifice (and so much grace) is really all about.

So what went wrong in '08? The simple (and truthful) answer is, I have no idea. Yes, I was busy. Yes, I'm a tired mother of an active preschooler and a baby. Yes, I'm teaching CCD and RCIA and working from home and recovering from surgery and all the rest. But none of that was it ... it was like I just couldn't, and I mean COULDN'T get into the spirit of the season. I couldn't even try. It felt as if this cloud of dark oppression settled over me from Ash Wednesday to Good Friday and occluded my view of God and all that is holy. I wish I could say I rose to the occasion and plowed through with prayer and deep spiritual exercise. But really, I just did the bare minimum to get by.

Interestingly, I think God was telling me something through all of it. My first Lent as a Catholic, I saw the best of what the season has to offer in terms of growth and grace and spiritual depth. My second year, I saw that the Church in her wisdom has provided us a way to grow at least a little even when we are not at our spiritual best, and it's called obedience. Cling to the precepts of the Church and don't let go.

I kept the fast and abstinence days (except for one lunch time when, as I swallowed my last bite of chicken, I realized with a panic "it's FRIDAY!!!!"). I went to Mass and Confession. I can't say I had a great attitude about any of it. I failed at my Lenten promise (it was to give up meat, and I felt horrible after a week of that and quit and didn't really replace it with anything because it's not required). I prayed much less often than usual, and stopped reading my St. Bernadette book halfway through because I got too busy with other things. And still, by my minimal obedience, God in His time gave me the grace to see that He was with me all along, guiding me through the barren desert even when I couldn't feel Him and despite the fact that I wasn't earnestly seeking him.

My bad attitude and general annoyance at the restrictions of Lent this year did nothing to damage the grace that came from simply obeying the law of the Church. My lack of stamina when it came to my Lenten promise made me appreciate the grace that got me through it last year. In short, I realized two things: 1) I can do NOTHING apart from God who gives me strength, and 2) Obedience brings grace even when done without enthusiasm. God's allowing me to go through this dark night of the soul during what should have been a period of intense fellowship with the Lord seriously wounded my spiritual pride (O happy dagger!) and made me MUCH less judgmental of people who seem to simply "go through the motions" during Lent and other liturgical seasons. Holy Mother Church isn't stupid, and she knew what she was doing when she set the rules. Expecting others (even if those expectations are unspoken) to do more than she prescribes is unfair. Only with the help and grace of God can we do anything good at all. Sometimes I forget that, and this Lent was an important wake-up call.

So my "wasted" Lent, especially when juxtaposed with my awesome Lenten memories from last year, wasn't wasted at all -- it was a valuable experience in several ways and taught me a lesson I'll not soon forget. God's grace is not something I will again take for granted or expect to fit into a pretty box, at least not while this experience is fresh in my mind. (May it stay fresh forever so I don't have to go through this again!) Mind you, I'm not recommending everyone go out and intentionally do the bare minimum for Lent next year as a method of growing closer to God ... I assume everyone reading this is more spiritually advanced than I am and wouldn't benefit from that kind of thing. But for me, finishing up my second year as a Catholic, the experience of basic obedience during a spiritual dry spell was a worthwhile one.

Thankfully, it's over now. God gave me my spiritual "groove" back on Good Friday as I prayed the Stations of the Cross, and the last three days have been wonderful as I feel once more connected to my Lord and my Church. But I have been reminded that faith is not about feelings -- and God is fully, totally, 100% present even when I'm not.

He Is Risen! (thoughts on the Vigil and other things)

2008-03-23T10:03:00.008-04:00

A very happy Easter to everyone, and a joyful "WELCOME HOME!" to the thousands who entered the fullness of the Christian faith last night at the Easter V.I.G.I.L. Mass!*

(*As anyone who has brought small children to this Mass can attest, V.I.G.I.L. stands for Very Incredibly Gigantically Interminably Long.)

As RCIA coordinator at my parish, last night I had the profound honor of seeing ten people I've taught, talked with and prayed these past six months find their home in the Holy Catholic Church. I met their families, heard more about their individual stories, learned the names they had chosen for their Confirmation, and watched with joy as one by one they proclaimed their faith and received our Lord in the Eucharist for the very first time.

My eyes welled up with tears as I watched our two catechumens receive the Sacrament of Baptism. Two lifetimes of sin, washed away in a moment. Two brand new starts, this time with sacramental grace to guide them. Maybe it's the former protestant in me, but I get much more emotional watching adults choose baptism than I do watching infants be baptized. The baptism of an infant is a pure, happy, and beautiful moment, to be sure, but the shock factor of an adult raised in our anti-Christian, shallow, hedonistic culture choosing to follow Christ, and all that entails, is a powerful reminder that the Holy Spirit is still actively at work in the world. What other explanation could there be for such a thing?

I may have teared up a bit at the baptisms, but I lost all pretense of keeping it together when the catechumens and candidates received Holy Communion. I was overwhelmed with the memory of the experience I had when I took my first Communion two years ago and crumbled into a full-on lip trembling, teary, mascara-smeared mess. I hope the experience of receiving Jesus -- body, blood, soul and divinity -- for the very first time was every bit as thrilling for my friends as it was for me, and then some.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't have my favorites in the class, just by virtue of their backstories and varying participation levels. Despite the fact I've known them all the same amount of time, some have been more active in class, so I feel I know them better. One of my favorites, whom I feel okay about outing here because he already outed himself, is John C. Wright, science fiction author, lawyer and ex-atheist Christian apologist extraordinaire. He joined late in the year, and the level of discourse in the class escalated rapidly after that -- rather unsurprisingly for anyone who has read his blog, he had a lot of thought-provoking questions and commentary. I am honored and grateful to have been used by God in even the smallest way to assist this man on his journey into the fullness of faith. I'm excited to see the ways big and small in which God will use his servant John. If you're reading this, John: Congratulations and welcome home.

All in all, it was an incredible night. My biggest regret is that I didn't make the most of Lent this year -- I know the experience could have been even richer if I had sacrificed more and focused harder on having a spiritually productive Lent. As it was, I didn't really buckle down and do more than the minimum required by the Church until Holy Week. I have another post's worth to say about that, but for now, it's off to spend time with my family and enjoy this, the greatest feast of the Christian year.

He is risen, indeed!

Where I've Been

2008-02-07T10:04:00.000-05:00

So, it's been almost a year since I have regularly blogged here. What happened?

Life happened. We were trying for a baby. I finally got pregnant. Had a difficult pregnancy and preterm labor, and wound up on bedrest. None of the drugs they tried to keep the baby inside had the desired effect, and little boy #2 was born November 4, 2007, six weeks earlier than originally forecast. By the grace of God and thanks to many, many Memorares said for our little one, our baby is fine. He never needed oxygen, tube feeding or any other major intervention. Even the kidney problems that had shown up on ultrasound throughout the last half of the pregnancy miraculously vanished. Prayer is amazingly powerful.

I did not fare so well. I'll spare the gory details, but suffice it to say that the emergency C-section did not go well for me. I had a couple one-in-several-thousand complications/mistakes happen and ended up needing quite a bit of surgery before they could close me up. I didn't see my baby for twelve hours after he was born, not because HE was too sick, but because I was still recovering myself.

Anyway, the good news is that I'm okay now. Baby #2 is 13.5 weeks old. He was baptized a couple of weeks ago -- a most joyous occasion. He is a ray of sunshine, so sweet, happy, precious and cuddly. Our home is happy.

I'm also coordinating and sometimes teaching RCIA this year, which has kept me busy on top of everything else. More about that later, the baby is crying.

Anyway, this should explain why I've been MIA from the blogosphere for a while ... stay tuned, though, because I'm coming back.

Meme-y goodness.

2008-02-01T09:35:00.000-05:00

RNW was too tired after her post to tag anyone, but in the interest of forcing myself to post something, I'm going to pretend she tagged me.

Book Meme Rules:

1. Pick up the nearest book (of at least 123 pages).
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the next three sentences.
5. Tag five people.

Amazingly enough, I've been caught on a day when I've just cleaned the house and actually put everything I'm not actively using away. I actually don't have much in the way of book clutter right now, it's all neatly on the shelf in the living room or stacked on my bedside table. Right now, I'm at the breakfast table, and the closet book to me is a cookbook called "Complete Comfort Food." Page 123 is just a giant, delicious-looking photo of chicken fajitas with all the fixings.

The next closest "book" is my husband's 720-page "Cheaper Than Dirt" shooting accessories catalog. From page 123:

"Designed with a pleasant oder (sic), this gun treatment is assured perfect firing from -50 F below (sic) to 350 F. This is the single and best (sic) gun care maintenance product ever designed to solve a gun owner's cleaning, lubricating and corrosion potection problems. A unique formulation of active lubricants will not freeze, oxidize or evaporate."

Clearly, proofreading is not a priority at Cheaper Than Dirt. Perhaps the expense of employing a decent editor would force the brand to raise prices, thus destroying the brand name forever.

The closest book to me related to the topic of this blog is The Essential Pope Benedict. It's on the shelf in the living room. I'm not going to post excerpts right now -- go buy it and read it for yourself, it's awesome.

I've been tagged.

2007-03-25T22:18:00.000-04:00

I'm sure you've seen these before: blog memes. This is the first time I've been tagged (thanks, Anne), so here goes nothing. Here are the rules:

People who get tagged need to write a blog entry of their own 6 weird things as well as stating this rule clearly! Three people need to be tagged and their names listed. Finally a comment needs to be left on each tagged person’s blog…

Six weird things about me? I don't know if I can narrow it down to just six. Let's see here ....

1. I don't just loathe mayonnaise, I fear it. My younger sister used to chase me around the house with two pieces of white bread just oozing with the stuff, and I would run away shrieking. I would resort to mild violence, if necessary, to keep her away from me. This was as late as high school. To this day, if someone in my household requires mayonnaise on some food item, I insist my husband deal with it. I will not keep it in my fridge on a regular basis, where I might accidentally brush against it while reaching for the ketchup. If my husband has been eating it, I make him brush his teeth before kissing me. And if it touches my food by mistake, like someone's mayonnaise-infested burger brushed up against mine on the serving tray, I will cut away the entire "contaminated" section and throw it away before eating the rest.

2. All that said, I like spinach dip. Yes, I know it contains mayonnaise. But I can't see the mayonnaise.

3. I don't notice my own accent (Southern California), but when I hear it emerging in my son, it grates on my nerves. Dude, fer rill. I have no idea how anyone can stand to hear me talk, and I have asked my husband to make a concerted effort to talk more when our son is around so maybe he'll grow up sounding more like the mid-Atlantic city boy he actually is than a transplanted beach bum like his mom.

4. My favorite music genre is trip-hop. Moby, Mono, Morcheeba, Portishead ... it's not weird that people in general like these artists, it's weird that a devoutly religious, politically conservative, SUV-driving suburban mommy who has never "tripped" on any illegal substances in her life likes them.

5. My other favorite music is Latin chant. My mom called the other day while I was listening to my "Renaissance Classics" CD, heard it in the background, and asked "WHAT are you listening to?" I told her "Church music," and her reply was a bewildered, "Why?" So I guess it's weird.

6. I can't stand thinking about veins. Apparently I share this phobia with Shellie. I don't like to look at them or even think about them (just writing this section of the post is making my skin crawl and my hands go clammy), it makes me squirm to get my pulse or blood pressure checked, and blood tests require me to lie prone or I will pass out and throw up. I am somewhat better about this since having a C-section that required me to have an IV for a day, but still, just thinking about it ... ugh. (Needles aren't the problem, as I'm fine with shots so long as I know they're intramuscular -- it's thinking about the needles going into veins that bothers me.)

Weird enough for you? Okay. Dixie, C.J., and Tanya, you're next. TAG.

Being "Seeker Sensitive" is the job of the laity, not the Church.

2007-03-19T22:09:00.000-04:00

Red Neck Woman's reponse to the protestant Pastor who got huffy about church shopping has started quite the discussion over at Postscripts (I think that's a new record for the number of links I've crammed into a single sentence).

A poster named ty23 has been most vocal in his insistence that "all that doctrine stuff" doesn't matter, it's people that matter, and especially whether those people have accepted Jesus Christ as their Personal Lord and Savior (TM). (I'm sorry, that was snarky. I'm pretty sure "Personal Lord and Savior" is not, as of yet, a trademarked phrase. Then again, with the business-model approach of many churches these days, it wouldn't surprise me in the least ...)

I could have gone in a lot of different directions in my response to him (sorry if you're a female, Ty, I'm making an assumption here in the interest of readability). He brings up the impressive numbers (just under 2,000) attending Elevation Church (WARNING: turn speakers down before clicking if you're at work, have sleeping kids nearby, or just don't like loud music) as being proof positive that God is at work there. I could point out that the average neighborhood parish in my diocese has 15,000 members (does that mean God is 7.5 times more active in these parishes?). He talks about the need for something called "impactful" ministry, which I assume means ministry that changes lives, though I have to say for the record that I am not a fan of cutesy invented marketing buzzwords. I could ask what could have more impact than receiving our Lord and Savior -- body blood, soul and divinity -- in the Eucharist?

But ultimately, I was struck by the one repeated plaintive cry in Ty's posts, that were echoed by another poster called Purplegirl. A cry that said "We don't get it. We don't really WANT to get it. You use too many big words and require too much of your members and the whole thing is just really strange to us. And if we, your fellow Christians, don't get it, then how much more do the unchurched not get it?" Their argument is that because Catholicism is "too deep" (their words, not mine), that it's not relevant to regular everyday people who would rather read the sports page on Sunday than drag themselves to church. So seeker sensitive churches are reaching out to those people in a way that isn't too scary or challenging.

Ty has a valid point about bad catechesis and lack of outreach. The Church is so busy ministering to Her millions of members already that maybe not enough resources are spent reaching out to the truly lost and really explaining the faith to them.

But here's the thing: that's OUR job -- those whom we Catholics call the "laity" and Ty probably knows better as "regular people." The job of a Priest is to minister to the faithful. The job of the faithful (that's us!) is to reach out to the world.

See, the journey doesn't end at the Church door. I think a lot of "seeker churches" operate with the idea that once you get the seekers in the door and they "make a decision for Christ," that the rest is up to them. If they want theology, they can take a class. If they want fellowship and accountability, they can join a small group. But where does this leave the needy? Those who struggle with embarrassing habitual sin. Those with desperate material needs. Shut-ins. The gravely ill. Those who don't "fit in" with the rest of the church in one way or another. These people are not the exception -- THEY ARE ALL OF US! And if you think you're not one of them, you have some serious pride that needs to be rooted out. A pastor should be so busy ministering to the needs of those who have already decided to follow Jesus that he doesn't really have time to think up inventive, cutting-edge ways to "reach the lost." We are all "the lost" at one time or another in our Christian walk. And we need earthly shepherds to lead us back to God. That is what priests, confession, the Mass, etc. are all about. And when these things are working properly, then those of us who are just "regular Christians" are spiritually prepared to go out and win souls to Jesus.

Francis of Assisi said "At all times, preach the Gospel. When necessary, use words." This is our job. This is how we win the lost -- we live our lives in radical obedience to the Gospel of Christ. It's a model that has worked to sustain and grow Christianity for 2000 years. It doesn't require a fancy multimedia presentation or a talented rock band. It doesn't even require us to bring a friend to Church. If we're getting what we need from Church, and it's equipping us to live holy lives, we'll convert people without having to say a word, let alone drag them out of bed on a Sunday.

Not to say church isn't important -- it clearly is. But church isn't what converts the lost ... people (in union with the Holy Spirit) do that. The Church feeds the faithful so we'll have the spiritual energy and strength necessary to carry out the Great Commission: "Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you."

Perhaps the funniest thing I have ever read ...

2007-03-13T00:11:00.000-04:00

From Sister Mary Martha comes this clarification regarding the Brown Scapular:

Do I think if you wear a Brown Scapular and lead a sinful life and are not sorry ever but just run around saying, "Ha ha, I'm wearing a brown Scapular! Satan will never get me!" that you won't see the fires of hell? Not a chance. Satan already has you. The one time you take it off to shower, you'll slip on the soap and crack your head open. The bus that knocks you out of your shoes will knock you right out of your scapular. The flood waters that wash you away will wash the scapular off your neck. Your evil boyfriend will remove it while you sleep and murder you for your jewels. The paramedic will take it off to give you a shot of adrenaline that doesn't work. The nursing home worker will steal it from you. The atomic blast will vaporize the Scapular one millisecond before it vaporizes you. As you tumble, end over end, down the basement stairs with no one home to hear all the thumping, your scapular will be tossed off and land right before your eyes along with you at the foot of the stairs. As the life drains from you as you lay bleeding from your head wound, you will reach pathetically for your scapular, but the cat will grab it and run out the basement window. At some point, you are going to want to throw it in the wash. When you do, you'll drop dead.

You are not going to get away with it, mark my words.

I held it together until the cat grabbed the scapular and ran out the basement window. Then I laughed so loudly MY cat scrambled for the basement window (which is closed, ouch). This is an excerpt from a much longer (and just as funny and truthful) post, so go check it out.

Tell It Like It Is.

2007-03-12T00:00:00.000-04:00

Protestant Pastor gets huffy about shallow lady who is honest about what she's seeking in a church. RNW calls him on his incredible hypocrisy.

Oh, the irony. As a Gen Xer, it would entertain me .... that is, if it weren't breaking our Lord's heart.

Pray for me.

2007-03-11T23:27:00.000-04:00

I'm teaching RCIA tomorrow night -- as in adults with preconceptions, not 4th graders who more or less blindly accept every word I say. I am prepared in many ways by my background in politics (particularly concerning the subject matter, which is the fifth commandment, i.e. pro-life issues), but still ... to be asked to give this lecture is intimidating and awesome at the same time. I am looking forward to it, but I am quite scared of messing up -- please pray that the Holy Spirit will work through me to bring people in the class to a closer and better understanding and appreciation of the Lord's teaching on Life issues.

It is so strange to be in this position. From "I could never be Catholic" to trying to convince others in less than two short years ... it is amazing what God can do if you allow Him to move you in uncomfortable ways.

Please also pray for my family, in particular my father. I try not to talk about them much on the blog in case they ever discover it, but I have to ask for prayers on this -- my dad told me he's been thinking a lot about Catholicism since I converted. He's even been watching Fr. Corapi on EWTN (those of you who know my father will laugh knowingly at this). He has a few obstacles in his way, but they are the same ones I had when I wrote this post, and I entered the Church less than six months later. So pray. Pray God's will be done, and that my father be open to God's will, even if it means losing face in the aftermath of some pretty strong statements. Been there, done that. It's hard. But SO worth it. If (and when!) my father receives the REAL Eucharist for the first time .... well, I can't even think about it without tearing up and getting anxious for him. So please pray.

My husband says if my dad and my dad's good friend/ex-pastor convert to Catholicism (against all odds and in addition to myself), he's putting HIS dad in for sainthood. I agree. John H., pray for us!

When, Not If.

2007-02-25T21:01:00.000-05:00

From today's Mass readings (emphasis mine):

Responsorial Psalm
Ps 91:1-2, 10-11, 12-13, 14-15

R. (cf. 15b) Be with me, Lord, when I am in trouble.

You who dwell in the shelter of the Most High,
who abide in the shadow of the Almighty,
say to the LORD, “My refuge and fortress,
my God in whom I trust.”

R. Be with me, Lord, when I am in trouble.

No evil shall befall you,
nor shall affliction come near your tent,
For to his angels he has given command about you,
that they guard you in all your ways.

R. Be with me, Lord, when I am in trouble.

Upon their hands they shall bear you up,
lest you dash your foot against a stone.
You shall tread upon the asp and the viper;
you shall trample down the lion and the dragon.

R. Be with me, Lord, when I am in trouble.

Because he clings to me, I will deliver him;
I will set him on high because he acknowledges my name.
He shall call upon me, and I will answer him;
I will be with him in distress;
I will deliver him and glorify him.

R. Be with me, Lord, when I am in trouble.

Reading this today, I had a small epiphany -- it says "when." Not "if." We will be in distress. We will suffer. We will get into trouble (often of our own making!). That's life on this rock. But God will deliver us, God will be with us, all we need to do is cling to Him and we will survive.

We are not God, we are not in control, and we can't stop every bad thing from happening through prayer, maximum effort, or anything else. Bad things are coming. We don't know what they are. We don't know when they'll happen. But rest assured, they will -- one need only to look at history (no matter how recent or ancient), let alone prophecy, to see evidence of that. And WHEN (not if!) the bad stuff happens, the handbook for survival is found right here in this Psalm.

In the Gospel today, Jesus gave us another concise "survival guide" -- the survival guide for temptation:

Gospel
Lk 4:1-13

Filled with the Holy Spirit, Jesus returned from the Jordan
and was led by the Spirit into the desert for forty days,
to be tempted by the devil.
He ate nothing during those days,
and when they were over he was hungry.
The devil said to him,
“If you are the Son of God,
command this stone to become bread.”
Jesus answered him,
“It is written, One does not live on bread alone.”
Then he took him up and showed him
all the kingdoms of the world in a single instant.
The devil said to him,
“I shall give to you all this power and glory;
for it has been handed over to me,
and I may give it to whomever I wish.
All this will be yours, if you worship me.”
Jesus said to him in reply,
“It is written:
You shall worship the Lord, your God,
and him alone shall you serve.”
Then he led him to Jerusalem,
made him stand on the parapet of the temple, and said to him,
“If you are the Son of God,
throw yourself down from here, for it is written:
He will command his angels concerning you, to guard you,
and:
With their hands they will support you,
lest you dash your foot against a stone.”
Jesus said to him in reply,
“It also says,
You shall not put the Lord, your God, to the test.”
When the devil had finished every temptation,
he departed from him for a time.

When Jesus said, "One does not live on bread alone," He referenced Deuteronomy 8:2-3:

"Remember how for forty years now the LORD, your God, has directed all your journeying in the desert, so as to test you by affliction and find out whether or not it was your intention to keep his commandments.

He therefore let you be afflicted with hunger, and then fed you with manna, a food unknown to you and your fathers, in order to show you that not by bread alone does man live, but by every word that comes forth from the mouth of the LORD."

Afflictions and temptations are not just part of life on Earth -- they're part of God's plan for us. The "silver bullet" to conquer both is found in a single, simple, simultaneously joyful (because we know it will work) and terrifying (because we're afraid we can't do it) concept: Obedience. Cling to the Lord. Love Him. Obey His commandments. Keep the faith. By doing this, we can and will survive anything the Lord, the adversary, or everyday life throws our way.

"It is written ... it is written ... it is written." Jesus faces each temptation the exact same way, with obedience to the Word of God. My old pastor at the megachurch gave a great sermon on this several years ago -- the main concept being that when the devil tempts you, you go to the Word and find an irrefutable reason not to give in. Just say "It is written ... !" It's kind of a "Don't shoot the messenger" thing -- like saying, "Hey, these aren't my rules, they're God's. I'm just following orders. Take it up with Him." And we all know Who comes out on top whenever the devil attempts to "take it up" with God.

So our answer to every temptation should be, "It is written ... !" And as Catholics, we have a lot more writing to use to back us up -- seven more books of Holy Scripture, plus two thousand years (give or take a few) of written teaching and exposition by the Fathers and Doctors and great Saints of the Church. That means we should have absolutely no trouble finding ample justification for our obedience to God if we just take a moment to look for it.

And on those occasions when despite our best effort (or even due to a complete lack of effort), we fail to engage the enemy with our most lethal weapon (our obedience to God) and we are broken, weary and afraid of the battles to come, then we can head to the great Hospital for the walking wounded throughout the Church Militant, the Confessional. The Sacrament of Reconciliation will heal us, restore our soul and make us stronger and better equipped for the next battle. Losing one battle doesn't have to mean losing the war, so be encouraged and grateful for the opportunity to try once more to get it right. And be always armed with the most effective weapon against evil: Obedience.

Lent by the Numbers, days 2-5

2007-02-25T18:04:00.000-05:00

2/22

Alcohol: 0
Rosary Decades: 1, plus thirty minutes' Adoration before the Blessed Sacrament (more on that later)
Clothing put in donation box: -1 (bought a new dress)

2/23

Alcohol: 0
Rosary Decades: 5
Clothing put in donation box: net 1 (3 in the box, but I went shopping again and got 2 things)

2/24

Alcohol: 1 beer with dinner, after sundown, because that counts as Sunday Vigil and I am totally on Team "Sundays Don't Count Toward the 40 Days of Lent."
Rosary Decades: 1
Clothing in donation box: 0

2/25

Alcohol: 0
Rosary Decades: 1
Clothing in donation box: I didn't count items, but it was two large shopping bags packed full. I feel lighter and more unencumbered/unattached already!

I don't know how long I'm going to keep track of this on the blog; I know it's tedious reading. But it helps me to see how I'm doing as I get started on my first real Lent.

Yesterday's Stats

2007-02-22T13:27:00.000-05:00

Lent by the Numbers:
Alcohol: 0.
Rosary: 5 Decades.
Items put in the donation box: 0.

Aside from all that, I've been reading the Lent/Easter volume of "In Conversation with God" by Francis Fernandez. I have been terribly convicted on quite a few habits of mine in just two days of reading, but also inspired to grow past those things and get closer to Christ, especially since this is the season for it, being Lent and all. I'll have more to say as I process my thoughts on this (so far) amazing little book.

Oh, this is perfect!

2007-02-21T11:42:00.000-05:00

I love this. Just go see for yourself.

(Hat tip: Anne.)

It's Lent.

2007-02-21T10:49:00.000-05:00

Lenten Resolutions:

1. Give up alcoholic drinks until Easter.
2. Pray at least one decade of the Rosary daily.
3. Clean out my closet and dresser and give away everything I'm not using to the House of Mercy free clothing shop.

With regard to drinking, it's something I enjoy that I could give up without forcing my family to do it with me (like if I gave up red meat or something -- since I'm the one who does all the cooking, and would not cook separate meals, that wouldn't work without a lot of extra planning). I love a glass of wine with dinner, a relaxing cocktail after a particulary tough day, or an after dinner drink with neighborhood friends after the kids have gone to bed. It will be a sacrifice to give these things up for a season, but I gladly do it for the love of my Savior and as a mortification of my spoiled flesh. The fact that I am blessed with such abundance and leisure as to be able to partake of the things I mentioned above (along with the good food and idle chatter that inevitably go with them) on a fairly regular basis is a good reason to quit them for a time and get some needed perspective.

As far as the Rosary, I say "at least one" decade because I have to start somewhere. I don't pray the Rosary at all currently (at least not on any kind of regular basis), so one decade is all I can commit to without feeling like I'm dooming myself to certain failure. That said, a friend of mine who lives four doors down from me wants to pray the Rosary daily with me during Lent, so it is entirely possible that more than one decade will get done more often than not. Accountability is nice, but unfortunately, it can also cut both ways, and I can see us cutting each other way too much slack since we're both busy moms. So I wanted to make my own solid commitment to at least one decade, with or without my friend.

And concerning the clothing donation .... this is going to be something else. I think I'll feel better when it is over. I have a walk in closet and several storage tubs jam packed with designer clothes, shoes and handbags from my life before kids when I was quite a bit thinner and definitely richer and more career-and-status-oriented. I have held onto these things for years now hoping to have reason to wear them again, either through dramatic weight loss or career progress or both. I have got to let it go. The weight loss may or may not happen, but really, I'd like to get pregnant, so hopefully not. And if my writing and speaking career picks up again, then I can buy a few new things if I need to. There is no reason to have the majoriity of my closet space filled with things I am not using and may NEVER use again. But boy, is it going to hurt to see those things go .... knowing exactly how much money they represent (that could have been put in savings or given to the Church or the poor) is the worst part. Oh, well, I trust that it will all be put to good use by the Missionaries of Our Lady of Divine Mercy.

Happy Mardi Gras . . .

2007-02-19T20:56:00.000-05:00

. . . and Happy Birthday to me. I'm twenty-six tomorrow.

Twenty-five was so mind-blowing in terms of growth and joy both in faith and daily life that I'm a little nervous about the year to come (either not living up to the past year in growth or surpassing it in terms of life upheaval!), but I need to get over it. Superstition is bad!

After my birthday comes Lent. I'm really glad Ash Wednesday is the day afer my birthday because the prospect of not being able to eat my way through an upset tummy in the morning will be a powerful incentive not to overdo it with the celebratory toasting and/or feasting tomorrow night.

I'll be posting my Lenten resolutions tomorrow, and blogging should be a bit more regular after that because I'm going to have plenty of Lenten reading to dissect here. I hope not too many of my blogging buddies will be fasting from the computer, because I will need all the support I can get during this season of self-denial. I'm terrible at self-denial. I could blame eleven years of fundamentalist protestantism and the fact that no one ever mentioned Lent or sacrifice or mortification of the flesh during that time, but I think the blame really rests with my own wretched self. Surely if I had been the scholar of Holy Scripture I believed myself to be, I would have noticed a theme . . . .

Anyway, have a wonderful Mardi Gras and stay safe. Then come back and walk through Lent with me!

Oh, one more thing before bed: Check out Jimmy Akin's Annual Lent Fight. It's like the Ultimate Guide to Lent.

You've got questions ... Jimmy's got answers. (Hat tip: Shellie.)

$487.61

2007-02-19T19:34:00.000-05:00

Apparently, £250 (or $487.61 USD), is the going rate for a human soul these days.

Obviously, I mean that in more ways than one.

Good Monsters

2007-02-17T23:37:00.000-05:00

I bought the new Jars of Clay CD as a Valentine's Day gift for my husband. He's been wanting some good Christian music to listen to on the way to and from work, and as the senior audiophile in this family, I'm happy to help him out.

I've been a Jars of Clay fan since 1994, when they were still opening for PFR and circulating their demo tape (yes, TAPE, you kids stop snickering!) in hopes of getting noticed. Back then, I loved their edgy sound and they way they combined catchy pop hooks with ancient-sounding chants, a driving rock beat and a message that was real, not sappy or contrived.

Then they hit it big. "Flood" was played not just on K-LOVE and Z-TV but on the big rock stations and MTV, as well. The innovative studio sound they were known for didn't translate well onstage. Concerts were lackluster. The record label took over. In the thirteen intervening years I remember exactly one song that Jars of Clay wrote, "I Need You," and that's because we sang it at the Megachurch. Don't get me wrong, it's a great tune. But there's nothing edgy, thoughtful or unique about it.

Fast forward to 2007. "Good Monsters" is the CD I would have expected from that edgy, talented young band thirteen years ago once they had some maturity under their belts. Somehow, during the mediocre middle of all this, they grew musically and spiritually, and the new CD, while dark, is dark in a real and gratifying way. It's not broody for the sake of being broody. The music is driving rock crossed with a fun 80s beat that lightens the surprisingly heavy subject matter enough to be listenable. It's the sound of mature Christians wrestling real problems, like how to reconcile the problems of starving, thirsty children, abandoned mothers, and racial hatred with a God who claims to love us all ("Oh My God," track 7). It's the sound of pampered rock stars coming to terms with their mortality and the futility of the things of this world ("Dead Man (Carry Me)," track 2). And they bring the Jars of Clay Experience full circle with "Take Me Higher," which echoes "Liquid" off their debut album:

Liquid:

Arms nailed down,
Are you telling me something?
Eyes turned out,
Are you looking for someone?

This is the one thing,
The one thing that I know.

Blood-stained brow,
Are you dying for nothing?
Flesh and blood,
Is it so elemental?

Take Me Higher:

It took a lot to turn away
Blood and water from one side
It took your eyes to stare me down
It took the truth to set me free, to set me free

Looking for place to hide
Waiting for the wind to rise
My soul is waiting
Looking for a place to hide
I need a little peace tonight

Anyway, Jars of Clay is back and better than ever. I'm loving the new CD and I hope those of you who, like me, fell away from the band after their debut album, will run out and buy this CD and reward them for their incredible growth.

Out of the Mouths of Babes

2006-10-22T23:29:00.000-04:00

Part of the reason I've been slack about posting lately is that I'm pretty busy teaching CCD. I teach fourth grade and kindergarten, so that's twice a week plus prep time and study. Not to mention, my son had bronchitis and we just had the floors replaced in our house. So, yeah ... busy.

Anyway, Wednesday night, I asked my kindergarteners, "What is love?" (Baby don't hurt me, don't hurt me no more ... no, just kidding. It's 11:45 PM and I'm punchy. Forgive me.) We were discussing God's love for us and the love we are called to show one another, and when I asked the question, I was expecting them to say "a good feeling," "when you like someone a lot," or something along those lines.

Instead, one of these precious five year olds thought it over for a minute, and said very seriously: "Sin is the opposite of love."

Indeed.

PRAY.

2006-09-19T09:11:00.000-04:00

I have more to say on this, but I wanted to get the link up immediately so people can PRAY.

http://23weeks.blogspot.com

Tell your family. Tell your friends. Tell your pastor. Tell everyone you know. Let's get the whole world praying for this tiny, precious, tenacious child of God, who is being starved to death by those who should be helping her even as you read this post. Go read her story in the words of those who love her. And PRAY, PRAY, PRAY.

Mr. Shea States the Obvious

2006-07-26T10:19:00.000-04:00

Part 2 of the "How to Read Scripture" series is up. The whole article seems like just plain common sense to me. Unfortunately, common sense, as we all know, isn't. So check it out and pass the link along to anyone you think could use an extra helping of common sense today.

How do you want your abortion?

2006-07-19T08:58:00.000-04:00

Truly ghoulish. Too bad babies can't talk -- we could ask them "How do you want to be killed today?" (Hat tip: Dawn Eden)

Part One of Mark Shea's Scripture Study Guide Is Up At Catholic Exchange

2006-07-19T08:18:00.000-04:00

Look here.

I'd be especially interested to hear from Bible Church people on this section:

"2. Read the Scripture within “the living tradition of the whole Church."

Goldfish do not live in a vacuum. Neither does Scripture. Many people have the notion that the only way to get at what Scripture "really" means is by "peeling away Tradition." This is exactly like thinking you will get to know your goldfish better by peeling away all that interfering water and holding your fish in your hand. What you will find very soon is that your fish is dead.

Same with Scripture, and for the same reason. Scripture is the result of the Sacred Tradition of the community that made it under the inspiration of the Spirit. Some people ask, "What right does the Church have to decide what goes in the Bible?" You may as well ask what right you have to decide what goes in your family photo album. Because Scripture is nothing other than the written testimony of what that Church believes and has experienced. Books that reflect those beliefs and experiences were (under the guidance of the Spirit) written and then preserved by the Church. Books that don't reflect this were not.

Because of this, you can no more read Scripture apart from Tradition than you can talk to a person without air. Scripture is simply the written aspect of the Church's Tradition. It is written with the assumption that you are already eating, sleeping and breathing that Tradition."

Part of what led me to seek out the Catholic Church last year was the growing feeling that the more I got "back to the Bible," the more it seemed like it had to be a piece of the faith puzzle as opposed to the whole puzzle. This section of Mark's article really speaks to that for me. It also calls to mind his 1997 Envoy magazine article called "Five Myths About the Seven Books," which was, without exaggeration, the article that pushed me over the edge and made me give this Catholicism thing a shot.

The fact is, the Bible is a Catholic book. And trying to live your life according to its precepts outside of the framework of the Church that gave it to us is ultimately an exercise in confusion and frustration. Last year, putting aside my self-developed hermeneutic and allowing myself, just for an evening, to read the Bible from a Catholic perspective (try Scripture Catholic for help with this) unlocked Scripture in an unbelievably exciting and profound way for me. It was like going from 2-D to 3-D. The stories leapt off the page, the people came to life, events fit together like never before. It was incredible.

So if you've been "Bible Only" and found that sometimes, that just isn't enough, I challenge you to give Mark's suggestions a chance. It may be the thing that finally helps you to "get" Scripture in its entirety for the very first time. The Scripture Catholic website is a fantastic resource for this kind of thing, but if you prefer the feel of a real book in your hand, pick up a Catholic Bible (I recommend Revised Standard Version, or RSV). Each chapter will have detailed commentary giving context and Catholic interpretation of the verses. It's like getting a powerful study guide free with your Bible -- and it's written by the author, editor, and publisher -- Christ's Church.

Let's Talk About Modesty

2006-07-13T09:13:00.000-04:00

Dawn Eden posted a link to the Diocese of Amarillo website, where the Bishop has posted A LOT of commentary on modesty in dress.

This is an issue that really gets people going, in my experience. On the one side, you have people who long for a return to the prairie dresses and bonnets of the American frontier. On the other, you have the people who say that no matter how a woman (or man -- but this issue, frankly, always seems to be about the women) is dressed, better that she (or he) is at Mass than anywhere else. And then there are the people in the middle, like me, who know there's a line somewhere, but aren't quite sure where it is, and note with some frustration that in thousands of words on the Amarillo Diocese website, the Bishop manages to avoid drawing one.

The more I grow in my Catholic faith, the more care I take in what I wear to the Most Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. Unfortunately, my carefully chosen attire might be another's scandal. My knee-length skirt may show too much shapely calf. My v-neck top may show my oh-so-sexy collarbone (hey, who knows what may turn someone on?). My dressy sandals may set the guy with the foot fetish two seats over off on some kind of weird fantasy. You never know.

Are we, as women (and I refer to women here because the most I've ever heard someone say in the way of complaint about a man's inappropriate attire was that it was sloppy or had a beer logo on it), obliged to dress to the lowest common denominator? Are we morally required to dress in the 21st century American version of the burka to prevent our brothers from sinning in their hearts? And for that matter, do we have any evidence that cultures which impose such strict dress requirements on women actually respect women more or produce holier men as a result (I'm looking at you, radical Islam)?

For the record, I, too, gawk a bit when I see young women in tight-fitting crop tops and low-rise jeans or miniskirts dragged into Mass by their parents. I wonder about the conversation that took place on the way out the door: "I don't want to go to Mass, Mom." "Too bad, you're going." "Fine, but I'm not changing." "Fine. Get in the car." Why would Mom stand her ground on the one serious sin, but not the other? And is it more sinful for a rebellious young woman to miss Mass, or to go with her heart not in it and cause half the men in the room to sin just by being there dressed as she is, all while taking communion and risking "drinking judgment upon herself?"

Of course, older women do the immodesty thing, too, albeit in a "classier" way (i.e. they don't look like slobs a la the teenagers, they just look wildly inappropriate). I see a lot of short skirts and mile-high heels, along with push-up bras and low-cut blouses -- usually not all on the same person, thank God. But I just want to make clear that it's not all "those darn kids" who dress like call girls for Mass. This problem is pretty universal.

All that said, I return to one of the first things I wrote here, which is, essentially, "One person's scandal is another person's 'trying really hard.'" While I try not to gawk at the woman wearing the micromini and stilettos, there's probably someone in a long, loose-fitting jumper and sensible shoes trying not to gawk at me. And that brings me to my point (finally), which is that we'd all have a lot less to worry about if we just worried about ourselves. Find the plank in your own eye before picking at the speck in your brothers' and sisters', and all that.

I'd love to hear other people's thoughts on this matter. Whenever I ponder it, I always end up settling on "It's between each person and God," but that somehow doesn't seem totally right. We are a body of believers, after all, and the actions of one affect the rest. In my own life, I've defaulted to the St. Peter's Basilica guidelines, which are basically covered shoulders and slacks or skirts to the knee or longer. But then, I can't seem to get worked up about people who do bare their shoulders in this summer heat, provided they aren't wearing some spaghetti-strap monstrosity that shows a whole lot more than a little bit of shoulder. I end up looking at immodesty the way the Supreme Court looks at obscenity -- I can't define it, but I know it when I see it. Maybe that's the best anyone can do. But I'm open to second opinions. Anyone care to comment?

Holy Scripture is Not an Ouija Board

2006-07-12T08:40:00.000-04:00

More good stuff from Mark Shea.

The "Bible as Ouija Board" phenomenon was puzzling to me as a protestant. I was told by more than a few fellow worshippers that the Bible had all the answers to my daily problems -- just pray about the problem and open up Scripture and the Holy Spirit would "show you a verse." It didn't seem to matter what the context was -- twisting the verse to fit your individual situation was the goal. I had a friend who sincerely believed the entire book of Isaiah was written specifically for her. Any prophecies about the Messiah were incidental -- mostly it was really just all about her.

I think the source of this approach to Scripture is the abundance of anecdotes concerning people who hit rock bottom in whatever their personal struggles were, opened their Bibles in desperation, and read verses that somehow spoke to them in their situations. Salvation (or at least a renewal of faith) inevitably followed.

I believe God really does that for a lot of people when they, in their total spiritual starvation, turn to Him through Holy Scripture for just a crumb of sustenance to keep them going. But to take that and extrapolate it into some kind of rule that says He must do so for all of us, all the time, is ridiculous. Those of us who are followers of Christ (and particularly those of us who are members of Christ's Church) have an entire banquet of Scripture and other resources at our disposal to continually feed our souls and help us through the trials of daily life. Why would we want to survive only on crumbs?

I'm sure there are a lot of protestants who look aghast at this poor approach to Scripture. I really don't think this is a very widespread practice, this "Bible as Ouija Board" thing. But where it is prevalent, it contributes to an almost schizophrenic experience of faith wherein people make their decisions moment-by-moment according to "what the Holy Spirit shows them" rather than doing any sort of deep contextual study of the Scriptures in order to form a comprehensive Christian worldview with which to confront the world and its myriad dilemmas in the first place. Put another way, they're winging it. And while God is certainly able to protect and guide even the willfully ignorant, it's the "willfully" part that will be a liability on Judgment Day.

Anyway, read Mark's article and keep checking back for more from him -- it seems he's going to try and show us how to better read and learn from our Bibles. I know I'm eager to do that better. I hope you are, too.

It's not Father Todd I cry for ....

2006-07-05T23:20:00.000-04:00

It's the children of the Diocese of Sioux Falls.

Somehow I just now found out about the tragic loss of Father Todd Reitmeyer. Ordained in 2003, he was a passionate young priest who had a heart for children and devoted himself to teaching them about the Eucharist.

At his blog, a parishioner wrote:

"Each month, Fr. Todd would make the long trip to Sioux Falls to celebrate children's adoration. He wore the most elaborate vestments he could find. He asked the children to get on the floor into a ball and 'Make yourselves small, so that Jesus can grow bigger in you.' He always had the children recite the Prayer of St. Gertrude the Great and told them, '1,000 souls will be released from Purgatory and they will pray for you when they get to Heaven.' At intention time, he allowed every last child to come within a few feet of the Blessed Sacrament. He would say, 'Don't tell me; I'm not Jesus! Go right up close, look straight at him, and tell him your intention!' One time he burned so much incense that the smoke detector went off and the fire department showed up! He wanted to promote children's adoration in the diocese, so he once asked that photos be taken at holy hour; these were posted in the Bishop's bulletin."

The photos below will first fill your heart with joyful hope, then throw you down on your own knees praying through your tears that someone - someone, please, anyone! - will continue the good work Fr. Todd began in those kids. At least that's what they did for me.

For Father Todd and the kids:

"Eternal Father, I offer Thee the Most Precious Blood of Thy Divine Son, Jesus, in union with the masses said throughout the world today, for all the holy souls in Purgatory, for sinners everywhere, for sinners in the universal church, those in my own home and within my family. Amen."

ECUSA Continues its Downhill Slide into Irrelevancy

2006-06-29T22:12:00.000-04:00

The latest:

Episcopalians endorse evolution. Notable not so much for the fact of it as for the reasoning behind it. "Scientists say it, it must be true." Boy is that a slippery slope. This is a church we're talking about. Isn't it their job to filter scientific theory through the lens of faith, and not the other way around?

So, the ECUSA:

1) No longer believes in Jesus as savior.
2) No longer believes God created Earth.
3.) No longer believes Scripture to be true (see: homosexuality, female priests, Jesus "just a good guy," Earth not divine in origin).

At what point does the ECUSA lose their tax-exempt church status and make the final legal transformation into just another social club of pseudo-intellectuals getting together once a week for wine and crackers?

Because I'm not really seeing the "religion" thing working for them anymore.

I wonder if insurance would pay for this

2006-06-26T20:18:00.000-04:00

Check this out. NFP for the extremely lazy (that's me).

All you do is take your temperature with it once a day and it does the rest. Don't ask me how, I have no idea. But a lot of people seem to be happy with it. It even tells you if it thinks you're pregnant as early as four days after conception, and whether it will be a boy or a girl.* (*results not guaranteed, says the disclaimer)

It's $500, but I'd never have to chart again. Or buy a pregnancy test. Or touch mucus. Or look at mucus. Or think about mucus.

Yeah, I think I'm sold.

Wow. Just wow.

2006-06-22T10:53:00.000-04:00

The Episcopal Church (ECUSA) votes against upholding the uniqueness of Christ, equates orthodox Christianity with Nazism. Must be read to be believed.

I pray for the faithful within the ECUSA, that they would come out from under her. I hope they know they're always welcome in the Catholic Church, and that we have Anglican Rite churches for those who are irreversibly attached to that Old English style. Come, my brothers and sisters, jump into the Tiber River, the water is just fine. It's not nearly as deep and scary as it looks from that side.

But frankly, I have to say that even a separate Anglican communion that proclaims salvation through Christ would be a step up from the mess that is currently Episcopalianism in America. At least then we'd have something to discuss. As it is, the church of my Baptism is dead to Christ and dead to me. Forgive them, Father, even though (and especially because) they know EXACTLY what they do. Only an extraordinary act of Your mercy can save them now.

"O my Jesus, forgive us our sins, save us from the fires of Hell and lead all souls to Heaven, especially those who are in most need of Thy mercy."

Speaking of Theology of the Body....

2006-06-22T09:01:00.000-04:00

Let me count the ways in which this article disturbs me.

From the article:

"But some sociologists and medical ethicists say that using liposuction — which can cause complications ranging from infection to death — for such tweaks raises profound questions about the increasing risks cosmetic doctors and patients are willing to take in the name of perfection. They say these microprocedures may signal a shift in beauty standards in which people come to regard the body the way they do their cars or kitchens: as an object able to withstand never-ending renewal and modification.

And they worry that the idea of precision liposuction carries an inherent suggestion that everyone should have surgery, even those who are already beautiful.

'The goal posts are changing so rapidly that what was once considered cosmetically unnecessary is now considered helpful,' said Victoria Pitts, an associate professor of sociology at the City University of New York, who teaches a course called Sociology of the Body. 'As calves, ankles, knees and even genitalia become zones of perfectibility, we will feel more and more pressure to get involved in projects that improve them.'" (emphasis mine)

When the body exists, not as an invaluable gift with which to live a life of worship and service, but as a fashion accessory used to seek power, status and sex, this is what happens.

I confess I never really 'got' why the Church warns against cosmetic surgery until now. Mea culpa. Like the slippery slope of the contraceptive mentality, the cosmetic enhancement industry devalues God's creation bit by bit and allows mere mortals to believe they can do better than He can, whether it's to decide which lives are allowed to come into this world, or what the ones who are already here should look like.

Don't assume that this will stop with the privileged classes in New York and Sao Paulo. Twenty years ago, breast enhancement surgery was something that jet-setting millionaire models, actresses and trophy wives had done in Beverly Hills. These days, it's just a graduation present. Even people of modest means are willing to save, beg, borrow or steal the $5,000 they need to buy "perfect" breasts, often at the far greater expense of being unable to use them for their intended purpose (infant nutrition) down the road. Nonetheless, it's seen as an "investment." In another ten or twenty years, I can see little Junior and Juniorette begging Daddy to pay to get rid of their knee fat. "But DA-A-A-D-DY, no one will ever want me with these chubby knees! I won't even be able to get a job!" (The sad thing is, their whining probably won't be too far off the mark. Witness a culture that calls anyone over a size 2 voluptuous-- or worse. Criticizing the size 2'ers for their "knee fat" can't be far off.)

When society gets to the point that even God's most beautiful creations are viewed as ugly mistakes and human meddling is viewed as "fixing the problem," we are in dangerous territory, indeed. Wanting to be the best you can be is admirable (though a focus on physical improvement to the exclusion of spiritual and mental improvement is worrisome). Wanting to be something entirely different than you were created to be is a disorder. Unfortunately, this culture is all too encouraging of disorder (see: homosexuality, divorce, fornication, etc.). Let's pray to God and work to change that, before it's too late.

ETA: Check out this timely post from an atheist who gets it:

"Preferable is the Biblical ideal -- '[t]he LORD does not look at the things man looks at . . . [m]an looks at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart.' Even so, the LORD is not portrayed as completely insensible to looks. He recognizes physical beauty, which implies he perceives 'ugly,' too, and all the gradations in between. His talent, then, is apparently in disregarding it in favor of each person's moral worth."

Mark Shea at his finest

2006-05-10T07:28:00.000-04:00

On Teaching the Theology of the Body.

Excerpt:

"... the body is not a mere machine, or an unusually clever piece of meat, or an apparatus used to gain a particular sensory experience, or a Tupperware container for the soul, or a thing completely unrelated to the true union of souls, or the mere "animal" part of us unrelated to our "heart" or "mind." Rather, the body is the very window of the soul, with its own language that speaks more deeply than we can with words. When God wished to speak His ultimate Word to us He sent, not a telegram, but a baby — at Bethlehem. The ultimate form of speech is the body. And so the body and the things we say with it matter."

Pfizer cashes in the lives of poor African children for the chance to make money off of rich American ones

2006-05-07T12:06:00.000-04:00

Totally evil.

Of course, this is the kind of thing that happens when you have a worldwide culture that says only the lives of the wanted, convenient and healthy are worth living. Color me not surprised in the slightest that someone decided the lives of poor, ill Africans were expendable for the sake of "progress." And lying about it? Totally acceptable when it's for "the greater good" as imagined by progressives everywhere.

This is not a corporate greed problem. This is a soul-of-a-generation problem. Greed that trumps ethics is only a symptom -- the culture of death is the sickness. Too bad the smart people at Pfizer can't come up with a vaccine for that.

Pope Benedict sums up what's wrong with kids today in eight paragraphs.

2006-04-29T13:46:00.000-04:00

What the world needs now is love, sweet love.

Amazing stuff. Long live Pope Benedict XVI.

I Need My Fix

2006-04-28T14:42:00.000-04:00

I have a confession to make: I'm addicted to the Sacrament of Reconciliation. That's right -- Confession. I love it; or rather, I love the pure feeling of knowing my sins are truly and permanently forgiven. It's been about two weeks since I last entered the booth, and I can feel the difference.

There's nothing like the moments, hours and days immediately following a good confession. The actual confession is horrid -- like taking a shot of some particularly nasty elixir. My parish priest, bless his heart, tries to make the process as easy as possible, but frankly, listing your sins before God and your priest should make you feel uncomfortable. If you think the hot flush of embarrassment hitting your cheeks as you stutter through the whole sordid list and the gripping sense of shame in your heart is bad, imagine Jesus actually suffering on the cross for those same sins, then get down on your knees and thank Him for how easy you have it in comparison. Admitting what we did and saying we're sorry for it, no matter how humiliating, is a cakewalk compared to what happened at Calvary.

Anyway, confession itself is rightly awful. But something wonderful happens in the moments after the priest declares your absolution -- you actually feel absolved. It's like being presented with a new start in life. Father is fond of assigning Bible reading and prayer for penance, so I usually go straight from the Confessional to a pew, sit before the Blessed Sacrament, and do my penance there before I have a chance to forget. It is usually during this time that the clean feeling washes over me, and the really great thing is that it stays. How long? Well, it diminishes with each sin I commit. After a couple of weeks, I feel more or less like my old self again, which is NOT a good thing. But the amazing thing is that the graces poured out in the Confessional make me more aware of sin and temptation in the first place.

The first time I went to Confession, I was amazed by the feeling of grace and peace I had the next day, and how much easier it was to avoid sin and choose good. And then I got stuck in traffic.

Now, I am a traffic screamer, in the worst way. I holler and shout and drop the f-bomb and all manner of other obcenities that I'm sure will come back to haunt me in the form of a young boy who will probably call someone important a bleepity-bleep someday at exactly the wrong moment, like the Bishop at First Communion, or Grandma at Thanksgiving dinner. Anyway, this is my standard M.O., so I was surprised as I pulled onto the freeway at 1 in the afternoon only to find it a six-lane parking lot that all I said, over and over was "Noooooooo. Noooooo! This wasn't supposed to happen! I'm already running late!" That was so incredibly tame for me that I thought someone else was speaking for a minute. And then I remembered: Confession. Ten minutes later, when someone blocked me from my exit, I finally cursed under my breath. And literally as it was coming out of my mouth, I was trying desperately to suck it back in -- which means I NOTICED! I noticed my sin, instead of numbly, callously driving the nails further into Jesus's hands without even a second thought. My traffic-induced diarrhea of the mouth was not only under much better control than it had been the day before, but it HURT. And that's a good thing.

I share this story to show that Confession is about more than just forgiveness. There really is supernatural grace available in the sacraments that help us to live out the promises we make in the Act of Contrition -- specifically to "sin no more and avoid the near occasion of sin." It doesn't elminate our ability to screw up -- after all, humankind has been perfecting the daily rejection of God's grace for thousands of years. But there is a marked difference in our ability to resist evil when we are fresh from the Confessional as opposed to two weeks, two months, or twenty years later.

So it's been two weeks, and I need to go back. I need God's grace; I want to feel clean. I shower my temporal body every day -- the least I can do is let God bathe my eternal soul a couple of times a month.

The Vigil

2006-04-27T12:56:00.000-04:00

The Vigil. Everyone wants to know about the Vigil.

The reason I haven't posted is that words simply can't describe the experience. People ask me about it all the time, in real life and on the blog, and I -- a woman of so many words -- just kind of stutter and fumble with an answer. But I'll try to do it justice here, in fact, I've asked God and St. Francis de Sales (my Confirmation Saint!) to help me find words.

It was a gorgeous spring night. Warm, breezy and just humid enough to be comfortable. We began outside with a candlelight procession into the Church. My husband (who sponsored me) and I found the other Candidates and Catechumens and stuck close to them for moral support. They had reserved a block of seats for us up front, and even though I knew most people didn't know for sure who was coming into the church, I felt as if everyone's eyes were on us.

We entered the church, which was darkened, and stood in the glow of the candlelight as Father and the altar boys put the Easter Candle in place. At the first "Alleluia," the house lights came up all at once, and it was stunning. Father told us later that they had gone and replaced a bunch of burned-out lightbulbs in the ceiling earlier in the day, and as a result, it was brighter in the church than most of us had ever seen it before. Good call on Father's part -- it was amazing.

Anyway, the service itself was long but very beautiful. There were seven readings, seven call-and-response chants from the Psalms, and seven prayers. Then the blessing of the Holy Water and the Litany of Saints, and then they got to us: the Candidates and Catechumens (by the way, Catechumens are those adults who are being baptized for the first time, Candidates are baptized Christians who are coming into the fullness of the Catholic faith through Confirmation).

For a little while, I got to sit back and relax as the Catechumens were baptized. I was surprised at the groundswell of emotion that washed over me as I watched these adults washed clean of their past sins and given new lives in Christ. I'm not a crier, but as one woman from our RCIA class went up there with her young daughter and both received baptism, I burst into happy tears.

There was one woman in particular in our class with whom I'd struggled the entire time -- she seemed adamantly opposed to all of the Church's moral teachings and I'd wondered if she'd actually go through with it. I'd been in prayer for her since the first night she opened her mouth about her support for abortion, euthanasia, and contraception, and I prayed that God would lead her into the Church, but not without changing her heart to one of joyful submission to God's law. (I think the last thing we need is more people trying to change the Church "from the inside.") So I was glad to see this woman there at Easter Vigil, and again prayed for her. God has filled me with an affection for this woman that I can't fully explain, as she has spoken out in ways that anger me more times than I can count. But God has made it clear over and over again that I am to love this woman and pray for her whenever I see her or think of her. So I do.

Continuing with the service, they had us Candidates rise and state individually our belief in the Catholic faith. With that simple action, we were received into the Church. The entire class, Catechumens and Candidates alike, went forward with our Sponsors to be Confirmed. I was confirmed with the name "Francis de Sales." Francis is the patron saint of Catholic writers, and I'm definitely one of those, now. But I can also relate to his life story on many levels.

Like Francis, I have parents with big dreams for me (his wanted him to be a lawyer, soldier and politician -- he became a priest instead). I had quite the rising career myself before God showed me that my primary vocation, at least for now, is motherhood. My parents, while they love my son, were woefully disappointed when I announced my pregnancy shortly after our wedding and honeymoon. They thought I was throwing my life away. Francis faced the same reaction when he announced his calling to the priesthood. So I can relate to Francis, or he to me, or something like that. At any rate, since he's been through it all and come out on the other side not only successful, but sainted, I desire Francis de Sales's lifelong help and intercession.

Another interesting, pertinent tidbit about Francis is that he converted tens of thousands of Calvinists in reformation-era Europe back to Catholicism. I was never a Calvinist, but as a convert, I hope to be able to follow in Francis's footsteps and help God to show my Evangelical brethren the truth about His Church. And last but not least, Francis was renowned for his incredible PATIENCE. Anyone who knows me or reads this blog knows that patience is a virtue I utterly lack. So I'm hoping, through his intercession, that some of Francis de Sales's abundant patience will rub off on me.

I need to pause again here for a moment to mention that the thing I was most nervous about before the Vigil was First Holy Communion. I'd been praying to God for weeks that He would give me a tangible sign of His presence in the Eucharist, a feeling, a vision, a word, anything! I wanted Him to leave me completely free of doubt that the Eucharist IS Jesus Christ, body, blood, soul and divinity. Well, as I was confirmed (before Holy Communion), and Father P. put the Chrism Oil on my forehead, I was overcome with an incredible feeling -- I was filled to overflowing with the Holy Spirit. If I were of the charismatic persuasion, I probably would have fallen on the ground and started speaking in tongues or something. It was like being drunk, only with perfect clarity of thought. I felt like I was miles off the ground, and suddenly understood why the book of Acts says the Apostles were accused of being drunk at 9 A.M. when the Holy Spirit entered them at Pentecost. And as I returned to my seat to pray before Communion, I realized I didn't need a sign anymore. This was it, the real deal, and whether I felt anything or not at Communion, I knew I was truly Home.

But God is good and his lovingkindness never ceases, so as unexpectedly wonderful as Confirmation had been for me, the Eucharist really put me "over the top," so to speak. The actual act of receiving the Eucharist was thankfully uneventful (I'd messed up the order of things at rehearsal, so I was worried about doing that again), but when I got back to my kneeler, I got a real treat -- infused prayer.

Father had told us at rehearsal that the very best time to pray is after receiving the Eucharist, because Jesus is physically with you. So I had a laundry list of Important Things I wanted to pray about in those special, holy moments of communion with my Savior. I didn't get but two items into it before (and here is where my vocabulary gives out and I find I really can't describe it) Jesus just took over. I couldn't think of anything on my own, the only word in my mind was JESUS, like a mantra, and I was nearly knocked over by an incredible feeling of warmth and intimacy that I can only describe as better and closer than any sex anyone in the world has ever had. Not that it was arousing, mind you! But the feeling of just being one, united, and totally consumed with the presence of the Divine Person was absolutely incredible in a way that really can only be compared in Earthly terms to the marital embrace. For a few blessed moments, I didn't need air, I didn't need water, I didn't need food -- Jesus would sustain me forever, I was sure of it. And then the feeling gradually lifted, and all that was left was a happy afterglow, just an echo of the intense peace and joy I'd experienced in those first few moments after receiving Jesus.

And then the Vigil was over. I was Catholic. I had my husband's two sisters, his mother and two of our nieces wrapped around me, crying joyful tears. I cried a few tears myself. We took some photos with Father P., and headed home to relieve our babysitter of her duties and celebrate with a late-night snack and a glass of wine.

And since then? Well, I have a lot to say about the incredible graces poured out in the sacrament of Reconciliation. I have quite a bit to say about vocations. I have some thoughts on St. Francis de Sales's classic book that I've been reading, "Introduction to the Devout Life." But it will all have to wait for next time, because my son just woke up and it's time to go be Mommy.

Blessings to everyone who joined me on the journey across the Tiber this year! I hope you all found as much joy as I have -- and there's so much more to come.

My Brush With Greatness

2006-03-20T17:15:00.000-05:00

The incomparable Mark Shea linked me on his blog. This is definitely the coolest thing that's happened to me all day. If you've never been introduced to Mr. Shea, click on his name and be sure to read everything -- his blog is a treasure trove of fascinating stuff.

Hello and welcome, fellow Mark Shea readers!

What happened? (Or, how I turned my back on a lifetime of protestant teaching and learned to love the Catholic Church)

2006-03-15T18:25:00.000-05:00

It has come to my attention that I have not adequately explained my reasons for ending my "protest" against the Catholic Church and entering into the fullness of Her authority and teaching. This I will attempt to do here. It may take one post, it may take more than one, I may have to write a book about it. I'm not sure how thorough I need to be to make myself understood. But I'm going to give it a shot.

For five years, I had been happily attending a large independent Bible Church in our area. This church was (and is) one of the fastest-growing in the area, and possibly in the nation. In the five years I attended, our membership grew from 7,000 to 10,000, and was increasing all the time. All this at a church that started with just ten families in the 1980s.

The pastor of this church is an excellent speaker. He is engaging, well-educated, funny, self-deprecating, and culturally savvy. The church buys airtime on the Howard Stern Show and other non-traditional, worldly venues and produces a short spot in which the pastor addresses some life problem that almost anyone (regardless of religion or lack thereof) can relate to, using examples from Scripture to offer solutions. Thousands of unchurched people visit this congregation each year thanks to their willingness to reach out through worldly means. In fact, the church’s motto is “Impacting Secular (insert our metro area here) for Jesus Christ.”

This megachurch is big for a reason -- one reason. It’s really all about the pastor. If, God forbid, he died tomorrow, I don’t believe for a second the church would ever be the same again. In many ways, it is a cult of personality. And this is a feature common to many protestant churches. In my 24 years as a protestant, I saw countless pastors come and go, and entire churches live or die by their popularity.

Pastors and the churches they lead can be popular for a number of reasons. Some water down the gospel to make it palatable to people whose very lifestyle is one of sin (pro-aborts, gay activists, etc.). Some take a hard line on everything and attract people who need structure and rules. Some are more like social clubs than houses of worship. And some are the real deal -- places where people can go and be challenged and supported, and grow closer to God.

The church I mentioned above was the real deal in many ways. Our pastor was never afraid to take an unpopular position for the sake of Truth. Week after week, he offered practical, realistic ways to apply the gospel to our everyday lives in an inspirational way. And he was committed to the church in a way that many pastors aren’t –- he promised (or “threatened,” as he likes to say) to stay with that church until he died or we threw him out, whichever came first. All in all, his church was a good place to be, and I happily grew in my faith there for five years.

So why did I start looking for something different?

Well, there were issues at the megachurch. I won’t share them in detail because in the end, they’re not relevant to my conversion story. Some were financial, some were legalistic, and a few were doctrinal. But the main thing that pushed me out the door was, ironically, the very same thing that had ushered me in five years earlier -- the life application teaching.

Don’t get me wrong -– life application teaching is wonderful. Necessary, even. How do we know how to live the Christian life unless we are taught? But is its proper place the main worship service on Sunday morning? We once did an excellent series on The Davinci Code -- twelve weeks’ worth of debunking its myths and lies. It was timely and interesting, but I couldn’t help feeling its proper place was a seminar or a Sunday School class, not a Sanctuary of the Lord. Same with the series on finances, and the series on workplace evangelism . . . these things were tremendously helpful, but I didn’t come away feeling like I’d just worshiped the Lord of Lords.

I found myself missing the liturgy of my youth, missing weekly communion (the Bible church did a Communion service about four times a year) and longing for spiritual application teaching. My outward life was fine. I was doing all the right things, making all the right moves. But I knew my heart was a mess, and that was something that a lifetime of life application teaching would never address. I thought about returning to the Lutheran church, but they’d strayed so far from their theological roots as to be unrecognizable. The Episcopal church was similarly apostate, but at least they seemed (at the time) to be working with the more orthodox factions of the church as opposed to running utterly roughshod over them like the ELCA. I found a nearby Anglican parish with a good pastor and tried it out alone early one Sunday morning. It was small but friendly, and I sensed that I wouldn’t be able to fade into the woodwork and be lazy there like it had been so easy to do at the megachurch.

Meanwhile, I was doing a lot of online reading. I’ve always been interested in theology, and there is plenty of theological deliberation to be found on the internet. One forum in particular was simultaneously vexing and intriguing to me because of the large number of Catholics that posted there. Their arrogance astounded me, and yet the depth and substance of their arguments were hard to ignore. At one point, someone posted an article in which the author compared the Catholic Church to Jesus and described protestants as a bit like Pharisees -- so scandalized by the audacity of an entity that would call itself the One True Way that they wailed and rent their garments. All I could think was “Ouch.”

After a couple of weeks of attending the Episcopal church on my own, I convinced my husband (who was rather bewildered by my sudden discontent with the church in which we’d met) to accompany me one Sunday. My husband is a cradle Catholic, but had been away from the church for several years when I met him at a singles event at the Bible church. We were married in a protestant church (though not our own because of a lack of appropriate facilities) and never questioned whether our children would be raised protestant -- it was a given.

As anyone who is familiar with both the Catholic and Anglican liturgies can imagine, he was rather underwhelmed by the Episcopal/Anglican church. “It’s a lot like Catholic Church,” he said. “Why would you consider this, but not the Catholic Church?”

“It’s not the same thing!” I protested. “The beliefs are totally different.” I explained the major differences in a nutshell (the authority of the Pope, the Marian doctrines, purgatory, consubstantiation vs. transubstantiation) and he nodded thoughtfully. I added emphatically, “I’m just not comfortable with the Catholic Church’s beliefs!”

And then, in what was almost a throwaway line for my husband, he said the words that would eat at me for the next three weeks: “Why do you have to be comfortable with the church’s beliefs?” Again, all I could think was, “Ouch.”

Why, indeed? I realized that instead of trying to shape my theology to match God's, I was searching for a church to fit my theology. A theology carefully honed over a whopping eleven years. In between classes, work, dating, marriage, and a child. That’s the stuff of theological legend, right there . . . or maybe not.

The realization stung, but it wasn’t enough to get me to consider the Catholic church yet. In fact, I went the other way for a few days, thinking we should just stick with the megachurch since we’d both been happy there and they were such sticklers for the Bible.

But there was the rub -- the more I’d gone “back to the Bible” in search of answers, the more I realized it simply had to be a piece of the puzzle, and not the whole puzzle. The seeming contradictions (which, in retrospect, were only contradictions when viewed with a protestant hermeneutic), the “missing pieces,” the failure of the text to line up perfectly with what I’d always been taught.

I began to catch on to the fact that it was impossible to read the Bible without making at least a few interpretations of the text -- it just wasn’t sufficiently self-explanatory to make any sense otherwise. And it dawned on me that as hard as I was on Catholics for “blindly” accepting the Vatican’s interpretations of scripture, I’d essentially done the same thing. So much of my belief structure was based not on the Bible, but on someone else’s interpretation of the Bible. From “accepting Jesus as my personal savior” to “once saved, always saved,” I’d essentially built my faith on catchphrases and cute acronyms (like the ACTS way to pray -- adoration, confession, thanksgiving, and supplication; and PUSH -- pray until something happens!) without a lot of actual Biblical truth to back it up.

As I pondered these things, my husband left on a weeklong business trip, leaving me with much more time to think, read and pray after I put our son to bed. One night I was reading an article promoting infant baptism (we’d had our son “dedicated” but felt strongly that baptism was for believers only, which meant being old enough to believe) and found that the scholarship behind the article was frighteningly sound. I was ready to barge into my toddler’s bedroom and baptize him myself by the last few paragraphs of the article. I was stunned to reach the end of the piece and find that the source was a website called “Scripture Catholic.”

I went to the Scripture Catholic site and began surfing around, just kind of skimming the content. In another window I still had open the site at which I’d read the article about infant baptism. The next article on the list was a 1997 article by Mark Shea called “Five Myths About the Seven Books” in which he made the case quite compellingly for the veracity and validity of the seven deuterocanonical books found in the Catholic Bible and rather derisively called “the Apocrypha” by protestants. I was impressed by his logic and won over by his genial but no-nonsense tone. And as I read, point by point, his argument in favor of the Catholic canon, I realized that the implications of the argument went beyond the scope of just how many books should be in the Bible on my nightstand. I realized that in an indirect, but devastatingly effective way, he had made the case for the authority of the Catholic Church:

“In his later years St. Jerome [who had previously opposed the inclusion of the seven books in the canon] did indeed accept the Deuterocanonical books of the Bible. In fact, he wound up strenuously defending their status as inspired Scripture, writing, ‘What sin have I committed if I followed the judgment of the churches? [emphasis mine] But he who brings charges against me for relating the objections that the Hebrews are wont to raise against the story of Susanna, the Son of the Three Children, and the story of Bel and the Dragon, which are not found in the Hebrew volume (ie. canon), proves that he is just a foolish sycophant. For I wasn't relating my own personal views, but rather the remarks that they [the Jews] are wont to make against us’ (Against Rufinus 11:33 [A.D. 402]). In earlier correspondence with Pope Damasus, Jerome did not call the deuterocanonical books unscriptural, he simply said that Jews he knew did not regard them as canonical. But for himself, he acknowledged the authority of the Church in defining the canon. When Pope Damasus and the Councils of Carthage and Hippo included the deuterocanon in Scripture, that was good enough for St. Jerome. He ‘followed the judgment of the churches.’”

With much fear and trepidation (and a growing amount of genuine excitement, because this was just making TOO much sense all of a sudden) I clicked back over to Scripture Catholic, where I found a handy guide to where major Catholic teachings are found in Scripture. There was a section on Church Authority, and a section on the Primacy of Peter (AKA the Pope). With my Bible in one hand and my mouse in the other, I began to fact check everything. It is hardly an exaggeration to say that after a couple of hours of this, I was a convert, in mind if not yet in body.

As I read the scriptures with the mind of a Catholic, they came alive like never before. Thinking of Peter as the first Pope shed so much light on the dynamics of so many relationships in the New Testament. I noticed things I’d studiously ignored for years, like Jesus giving to the apostles the ability to forgive sins on earth so they’d be forgiven in heaven. I could go on and on, but I’d rather send you to Scripture Catholic to see for yourself. It’s truly eye opening if you’ve never seriously considered Catholic theology before.

At any rate, literally overnight I became a Catholic. In the days to come, I found myself reading protestant arguments on different forums and mentally picking them apart only to find that they fell short every time when put up against the Catholic teaching. That’s not to say there haven’t been plenty of debates won by protestants against Catholics, but I started to recognize that on these occasions, it was due to a lack of knowledge on the Catholic’s part, not a failure of the theology itself.

I also found a site with a lot of writings by the Early Church Fathers, people who knew and worked with the apostles themselves. To my surprise, these men were unarguably Catholic. (Present-day Catholic, not some kind of imaginary “early Catholic” of the type that was good enough to put together the Bible, but not good enough to hold the fullness of the truth for all generations.)

Even after my husband returned home, I kept all of this to myself for a few days, considering I had recently firmly proclaimed my opposition to all things Catholic. I didn’t want him to think I was flaky, or worse, schizophrenic. But as the desire to pursue this path grew inside of me, I sat my husband down over dinner and said, “Honey, I have a dilemma. While you were out of town, I did a lot of reading and praying, and I think God showed me that the Catholic Church is true.”

“Okay. . . ” he said, waiting expectantly for an explanation, which I tried clumsily to give. The words I came up with were not too different than the ones I’ve shared with you here. He was surprisingly open to the idea, and later told me that the reason he knew this was from God is because of the tremendous growth he’d seen in me both spiritually and personally surrounding the events of my conversion. “By their fruits you shall know them (Mt. 7:20),” and all that.

Fast forward to today. I am just about finished with the Rite of Christian Initiation for Adults (RCIA) and am getting ready to make my first confession. At Easter Vigil, I will be accepted into the fullness of the Catholic faith and receive Jesus Christ physically in the Eucharist for the very first time. I couldn’t possibly be more excited, and I am thankful to God that He showed me His truth in His perfect timing.

I am thankful for some other things, too. First of all, I am thankful for my protestant upbringing. All too many Catholics are raised into a sort of apathy and lack of knowledge of the faith. The Catholic faith is incredibly rich, vibrant and complex, but a lot of cradle Catholics have boiled it down to “be a good person and show up to Mass and you might avoid hell.” That’s incredibly sad and not at all what Jesus had in mind for His faithful, I feel quite sure. It’s also painful to watch so many cradle or “cultural” Catholics walk up and receive Jesus week after week not really believing or caring that it’s Him. Since I had to choose this faith for myself, and be truly convinced against all my prejudices of its veracity, I am profoundly aware of its beauty and truth. In short, it is because of my solid protestant background that my Catholic faith will be strong.

I am also thankful for God’s perfect timing and orchestration. From each website I visited seemingly at random, to the Catholic parish I happen to live in right now (with its incredible pastor who rivals the megachurch’s pastor in style and annihilates him in substance), everything seems to have been nothing if not a complete set-up by God to lead me into the Catholic church (and make me think it was my idea, ha!).

I am thankful for my husband, who is thoughtful and supportive and kind, and takes this God thing as seriously as I do. His support has been incredible, especially as I’ve dealt with a certain amount of fallout from family and friends who don’t understand or support my decision. And I’m thankful for my son, who served as yet another piece of the puzzle through the issue of baptism. Had I not had a baby sleeping in the next room, I’m quite sure I’d have never read up on infant baptism, and that was a major turning point in my conversion story.

Most of all, I’m thankful to God for His Church. What a gift. What peace in knowing there IS a plan, there IS a shepherd here on Earth, and there IS a way to know what the Bible really teaches. What perfect grace is offered through the sacraments. And what confidence is inspired by a 2,000 year unbroken tradition passed down from the Apostles themselves.

I am excited for my future as a Catholic. I’m fascinated by the depth and richness of a faith I could learn about for a lifetime and yet hardly scratch the surface. And I’m exceedingly grateful that all that depth is matched by a beautiful clarity and simplicity that can be understood by anyone with eyes to see or ears to hear.

I sincerely hope my sharing of this story will both adequately explain my own conversion and help some of you along the way in yours. Thanks so much for reading.

Where are you?

2006-03-15T13:07:00.000-05:00

This is the question I'm getting. Over and over. I feel very noticed, so thanks!

The answer to the question is, I'm busy at home -- and in the Home Stretch of my swim across the Tiber River. Easter Vigil is right around the corner, and I'm trying to get spiritually ready to make my first confession and receive Jesus in the Eucharist for the first time. I'm also trying to pick a confirmation name, which is surprisingly difficult because there are just so many amazing saints to choose from. Right now I'm particularly enamored of Francis de Sales, Monica, and Therese of Lisieux. Not to mention Mary, who suddenly fascinates me thanks to our parish priest sharing some unique thoughts about her -- but I'm still so confused about her place in my life that I don't feel I can take her name as my own.

Meanwhile, we're putting our house on the market. My family lives in a narrow 3 level townhome, and the stairs and the lack of running space for my almost-two-year-old BOY BOY (BOY is he active) and the lack of yard and the multiple families crammed into a single unit across the street who favor really loud gangsta rap and late-night visitors and letting kids run wild are just too much to deal with anymore.

So we're going to move. And moving means selling, and selling means a thousand projects we should have done years ago so as to enjoy their fruits, but never got around to, and also a lot of plain old stress. So the time I would normally spend pondering theology and writing about it here has been spent packing extraneous stuff into boxes, pushing a paint roller, searching the listings database for new digs, and arguing with my poor husband about how much money we can afford to spend on the house of our dreams. Or any house at all.

Thanks be to God that He is the God who meets us even in the midst of boxes, tape, magic markers and Magic Erasers. Otherwise I'd have gone completely insane by now.

The busy life of a Priest

2006-02-02T20:40:00.000-05:00

So, we were supposed to solve the dilemma outlined in my last post today. I had a nagging feeling all week that it wasn't going to happen. Sure enough, Father got called to the ER right before our family meeting with him. So all is postponed until further notice from him.

I signed up for something called "Myspace" (you might have heard of it) to find old friends and reconnect. It asks for your religious affiliation -- I managed to gather my courage and mark myself "Catholic." The curious e-mails from friends I haven't spoken to in years have already begun. This should be fun. "Watch the newbie defend the faith." It should be a TV show on EWTN.

A New Year, A New Life

2006-01-15T20:19:00.000-05:00

Well, the ball is in my court. I talked to the priest after RCIA last week and told him I'd discovered that the "normal" way of entry to the Catholic Church for a faithful churchgoer like me is to just join -- no RCIA necessary. He agreed. So whenever I'm ready, I can just go to confession and take first communion.

I'm torn. I believe in the Church. I want to be part of it. It kills me to sit there during Mass and not be able to physically receive Jesus in the Eucharist. So I should just join and everything will be perfect, right? But there's a part of me that loves the idea of this waiting time as a time of penance, preparation and reflection. The build-up to Easter Vigil, the significance of my spiritual renewal in God's Church conjoined with Jesus' Resurrection -- the symbolism is great, and imbues this rite of passage with much meaning and drama.

So, to wait and reflect, or jump in with both feet on faith. That is the question. In the interest of family unity, I'm leaning toward doing this sooner rather than later. My son was baptized on New Year's Eve (a joyous occasion it was!), and my husband, of course, is ready to come "home" as soon as we cen get our marriage convalidated (the "living as brother and sister" idea was a bit much for him, so he's waiting to take communion until we're "legal"). So we meet with the priest as a family on February 2, and we'll make all the arrangements then.

It's so strange to think of how different my life will be. Catholicism, this ancient, alien (to me) faith, will now be a part of the rhythm of our daily lives. It will dictate how we spend our Sundays, affect how we make love and plan for children, cost us a fortune in Catholic school tuition if we choose to go that route . . .

But it will also unify us with a body of believers around the world who all live with that same rhythm. We can go on vacation in Europe or South America or Australia and worship the same way we do at home. Have you ever noticed how very American most non-denominational protestant churches are? It's hard to picture the format translating elsewhere, even as the world becomes smaller and more interconnected. But the Catholic, or universal Church transcends both nationality and culture. It's centered on one thing, which is the weekly acceptance of Christ by His people in a tangible form given and commanded by the Lord Himself. The Eucharist is the same in every language and every culture. It is Jesus, come to save.

A Question for Catholic Converts

2005-12-12T12:37:00.000-05:00

So . . . what did you do in the meantime? You know, before you were "officially" accepted into the Church and could not yet partake in Holy Communion, confession, etc.?

I am finding it hard to enjoy the Mass when I am simply an observer for the most important half of it, and I spend most of the time trying to control my toddler, anyway. There is much to love in the music, readings, prayers and Father's awesome homilies, of course, but I definitely feel like there's something missing. (Hmm, could this be God's way of making sure I'm really hungry for the Blessed Sacrament when my time finally comes?) Anyway, any suggestions to help "spiritualize" the Mass for me while I'm still forbidden from consuming the real spiritual food would be welcome.

So far I've come up with the idea of trying to go alone to a nearby parish that does perpetual adoration, but the logistics are tricky with taking care of my little guy and my husband working all the time. I also say the "Spiritual Communion" prayer, but it is just not the same. I can't wait until Easter at this point. I feel like my life is in a holding pattern.

Comments?

My Feet Are Freezing

2005-12-01T09:14:00.000-05:00

I told my parents last night.

My mom won't even speak to me, and my dad is, to say the least, not thrilled (though he took it better than I thought he would). I spent two hours in heated discussion with my dad, and I don't think we're any better off than we were before.

In the eyes of my parents, the Catholic church is evil. Evil, as in "tool of satan, whore of Babylon" evil. The pope is the antichrist, priests and nuns practice witchcraft, and Mary and the Saints stand as an impenetrable barrier between us and Christ.

My dad said I have to speak to my mom eventually about this, but she said she didn't want me to talk to her this weekend because it's her birthday and she doesn't want it ruined. Ouch. And here I was going to tell her first, because I thought she'd be more open to this. Guess I don't know my mom as well as I thought.

I hate this. I hate hurting them. And my own confusion about things is muddying the waters, as well. I went to a mothers' prayer group though our parish yesterday, and some of the prayers were to Mary. I was even asked to read one aloud. I sucked in my breath sharply and read the prayer with incredible detachment. I literally felt like someone else was saying the words. I just can't grasp the Mary thing yet. I get it intellectually: Ark of the New Covenant, New Eve, Mother of God, and all that. But it doesn't make me love her. It doesn't make me want to ask her for help. I still cringe every time her name is mentioned during Mass. Obviously, I'm not "there" yet with my Catholic faith.

I've been feeling like I should go talk to the pastor of the megachurch about all this (if I can get an appointment, that is). Maybe I've been rash. I don't know. When I do the research, it all lines up and points to Catholicism, but I'm not completely "feeling" it yet. And when I pray, I feel oddly distant from God all of a sudden. I see Him working everywhere in my life, but I've lost some of the intensity and clarity I had when I prayed as a protestant.

I want to honor God. I want to do the right thing. I believe in my mind that Catholicism is true. But do I believe it in my heart?

Happy Thanksgiving

2005-11-24T10:35:00.000-05:00

Happy Thanksgiving.

"P-4," my artist

2005-11-22T11:22:00.000-05:00

has just painted himself and his crib bedding with poop.

This day is not getting better.

Pray for me.

Five Ps (pray for me)

2005-11-22T11:01:00.000-05:00

Well, after my emotional highs of this weekend, reality and the enemy have come crashing down on me like a ton of bricks. I am down. Really down. I'm fighting a cold, I'm physically exhausted, my toddler has entered the realm of intentional disobedience (isn't it fun?) and at my yearly checkup yesterday I found out I currently weigh as much as I did at nine months pregnant with my son.

I feel like a failure in every area of life. My one bright spot yasterday was receiving Holly Pierlot's "A Mother's Rule of Life" in the mail yesterday. But even that was short lived. I read half of it in a single sitting, and realized that 1: I am failing in every area of the "five Ps" she talks about in the book (prayer, person, partner, parent, provider), and 2: Her way of climbing out of this hole may not work for me because my son is too little for me to be able to implement most of her suggestions.

Nevertheless, I'm starting with the first P, prayer, as it seems that's the only thing I can do. I can't aspire to her lovely way of rising before the kids and praying in solitude (my son is an insanely early riser and, as I've mentioned before, I'm useless before 9 AM). But I can certainly sit down to morning prayers over coffee while my son is occupied with his banana and cereal. I can't have the baby do a "quiet time" or send him outside to play alone, but I can use his naptime to do my specific praying.

As for the second P, person, I clearly have to do something about my weight gain. I haven't exercised (other than hauling around the baby) since my son was born in 2004. I eat for pleasure, not just nourishment. No one who saw me would call me fat, but I am 20-25 pounds over where I know I can be, and 15 over where I probably should be. My blood pressure is elevated, I feel sick and tired all the time and I am just generally not in very good shape. So the first plan is eating better. I'll get to exercise when I get the food under control -- right now I have nowhere to do it anyway and it's too cold to go outside.

And the last 3 Ps. Oh, boy. Well, those will just have to wait. Not in reality, but at least for the purposes of this journal, because my son just woke up and I must go attend to "P-4."

Pray for me.

Mass (a musical weekend)

2005-11-20T21:42:00.000-05:00

It's not like I'm normally given to poetry or song. I'm very analytical, technical, and logical. Creative license has not often been my thing.

But this weekend, when I've set my mind to write about the Mass, words fail me. Essays don't seem to do this subject justice. When I sit down to write about this subject, all that springs to mind is song, joyful song. And though I risk losing face and being ridiculed for my inadequate lyrics, pentameter, whatever, I write these songs down anyway. Because after all, this is a journal more than a blog, and if you happen to be reading, well, remember that you're spying on an unfiltered mind.

Chants
Reverence
Wisdom
Presence

On my knees
On my feet
Sitting in my seat
Leaning forward just to hear

Your Word
Read aloud
For us to listen
while the stained glass windows glisten

And there
You are
Your blood
Your body, set before us now

What have
we done
To render ourselves
Worthy of this cause?

Thank you Jesus
For your sacrifice
And for Eternal Life

Thank you for your mercy boundless . . .

Scattered Thoughts on Mary

2005-11-18T15:29:00.000-05:00

Mary didn't earn her sinlessness under her own power, God (her son) gave it to her as a gift. That's Catholic teaching. Basically, Jesus saved her, too, but He did it "ahead of time" since God is not limited by time. Remember, Jesus is God. And Jesus perfectly fulfilled the commands of the law. The best way He could "honor His mother" was to save her perfectly and from the moment of conception, because He could do that, because He is God.

To be honest, I still don't "get" the Mary thing completely. I don't yet understand why it's so important. However, I see this issue as totally secondary to the issue of Church Authority. If the Church tells me that all of this is true, can back it up with scripture and tradition and it doesn't actually contradict scripture, then who am I to disbelieve?

I have prayed two Hail Marys in my whole life, just to see if God would strike me dead. He didn't, of course. But I still can't get into it yet. And that's fine -- I think God gives us the grace to work these things out in His own time. For whatever reason, though, a sinless Mary no longer bothers me. In fact, she's an inspiration. She went through all the trials of motherhood (though having a sinless son must have made for a sweet toddlerhood with no tantrums!) and came out without sinning.

Now she is in heaven, with perfect clarity of thought, and truly knows what is best for us through her own experience and hindsight as well as the perfect knowledge that surely comes with being in God's presence. So her prayers to God on our behalf are perfect, where ours are limited by our own lack of perspective and sinful ways. I have started offering up, in conjunction with my own prayers to God, the occasional quick entreaty to Mary to lift the prayer up in a way that I am simply unable to do. I've also been talking to St. Monica lately. If I get to pick a "confirmation name" (don't know if they do that for adults), I will probably pick her. Her dealings with her stubborn son are a little more relatable to this mom of a strong-willed toddler than Mary's experience with a son more holy than she.

More fun with RCIA

2005-11-15T08:21:00.000-05:00

My second class was last night. I think I'm the "problem child."

I'm having a hard time clarifying the questions I'm asking. I'll ask the Priest where the doctrine that Mary is the "New Eve" comes from, and he starts making assumptions about why I'm asking the question, and starts answering as if I am a run-of-the-mill, rather uneducated protestant who just can't get past "the Mary thing." He doesn't know I'm a theology junkie and that I have already made the hurdle into accepting, more or less, the doctrines of the Church about Mary and everything else. What I want to know is where those doctrines come from. The doctrine of the "New Eve" had to have started somewhere, and since it is not explained in Scripture, I would like to know which Church Fathers nailed it down, so to speak, so I can read their conclusions in their own words. I want to have more than a blind faith. I want to know how the Church came to the decisions it did. Not so I can reject them, but so I can understand them.

Likewise, it's frustrating to me that everyone else assumes I'm starting at the beginning (though I know that's a natural assumption in RCIA). So many people keep asking me "Have you read Scott Hahn?" YES, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, I HAVE READ SCOTT HAHN, I DON'T LIKE HIM, AREN'T THERE ANY OTHER CATHOLIC FORMER-PROTESTANT AUTHORS YOU CAN RECOMMEND?!!!!! I have had visions of taking a Scott Hahn book with me everywhere I go and using it to whomp the head of the next person who asks me if I've read him. I don't know why Catholics seem to think Hahn's writing is some kind of "magic bullet" that no protestant can resist. I find other authors (Patrick Madrid, Mark Shea) much more persuasive. Scott Hahn doesn't explain anything! His conversion story is (paraphrased): "I went to Mass thinking it was Satanic, but it was Biblical and then I realized that the Eucharist really IS Jesus." No further explanation necessary, apparently, as to how it is Biblical or what made him realize Jesus was present. Oh well, I'm sure it makes perfect sense to him.

On the bright side (and I hate to even say anything because I am afraid of jinxing it), I think I may have found a friend for life in the RCIA coordinator. She's about my age (mid-to-late twenties), a former protestant who converted last Easter, and used to attend a church that is a like a smaller clone of my old mega-church. She's also a theology junkie like me! After class, we were standing outside with another woman who is a religious neophyte. We were going on about consubstantiation vs. transubstantiation, NAB vs. RSV and Evangelicalism vs. Catholicism and this poor lady is looking at us like, "Whoa, what have I gotten myself into?" We started comparing the height of the stacks of books beside our beds, then started comparing titles -- we're definitely two of a kind. I haven't had a conversation that enjoyable with someone other than my husband since I-don't-know-when.

She scared me a little, though, when she told me that her small group from the evangelical church literally sat her down and had an intervention when she confessed she was joining the Catholic church. They had Bibles open, pointing out different things, begging her to reconsider. I see this in my future, too, especially from the ex-Catholics in my group. But my new friend told me that even after her conversion, she is still close to those women and she's hoping to convert them. That was reassuring.

Anyway, I'm meeting one-on-one with the Priest on Wednesday evening. In the interest of not monopolizing any more class time than necessary with my overly specific, esoteric lines of questioning, I will hit him with as many questions as I can in 45 minutes. He seems like a genuine guy, and one who isn't afraid of questioning. I am amazed at all he does. He's the parish's only priest, and he does everything. RCIA, other classes, Masses, visiting the sick, counseling, marriages, baptisms, confessions, one-on-one meetings with the likes of me. He gets up at 3:30 or 4 in the morning to pray. Masses, meetings and other responsibilities keep him booked from 6 am until 11 pm. Plus he has a mom and siblings to think of. God's grace must be with this man, or else I can't imagine how he survives (well, other than a veritable IV drip of Diet Dr. Pepper, which he guzzled throughout RCIA last night).

This is really long, but I have to address one last thing: some of you were wondering how Mass went on Sunday. I think I'll save it for a separate post. It was awesome. Truly. But I think I need to go again before I can really write about it. There's a lot to absorb.

Thanks for reading and praying for me.

Well, there is one thing in common...

2005-11-13T21:49:00.000-05:00

The sacrifice of an innocent.

Planned Parenthood's national chaplain (yes, apparently they have one) on the lack of enthusiasm among other clergy for getting involved with the abortion group: "The closer Jesus got to the cross, the smaller the crowds got. This is pretty close to the cross because people have to take derision, ostracism, all that."

Says the same chaplain of abortion: "I don't think it's a sin."

A Quiet Peace

2005-11-10T09:13:00.000-05:00

Well, I've fallen into a period of quiet peace, which, unfortunately for this blog, is not the same fodder for musing as my angsty search for truth was. I'm working on an entry trying to lay out some of the things that brought me to my understanding (which grows daily) that there is Truth to be found in the Catholic Church. I'm starting with Peter. But the going is slow, because frankly, I'm still trying to absorb all that I have learned, process it, and put it back out in written form in a way that does it justice.

What's funny to me is that I think this change of course may solve some of the problems I've written about before on this blog -- my lack of discipline and my lackluster housekeeping, to name a couple. I have always been an information junkie, and my religious life has been no different. So I often spend a few hours on any given day debating and discussing religion on various internet forums.

Well, as of right now, there's nothing to debate. If Catholicism is true, than many of the issues I used to go 'round and 'round about have already been settled. And those that haven't suddenly seem less important. So, while habit dictates that I sit down at the computer and hit the forums, my heart isn't in it like it used to be. I find myself bored and wanting to go read a book or something. And once I stand up from the computer and survey my surroundings, I realize there's a lot I could be doing with the time I used to spend arguing with my Christian brothers and sisters online. Who would have thunk it, eh? But all is not lost -- I'm sure as time goes on, I will find plenty of new arguments to get into with my new Catholic brethren. Especially political ones. The Catholic Church is not nearly as homogenous as my Bible Church was.

I went to the Catholic bookstore the other day and picked up Mark Shea's "By What Authority?" I read the whole thing in two short sittings, only to find that he came to the exact same conclusions I already did in the exact same order I came to them. I guess there really is nothing new under the sun. I think I'll hold onto it, though, and give it to my dad if he ever sincerely asks what changed my mind about Catholicism (assuming, af course, that at some point I find the nerve to tell him I plan to convert). Mark Shea lays it all out there in a way that is easy for a protestant like me to understand and appreciate (if a bit dry). I like his style a lot better than that of Scott Hahn, whose books my mother-in-law has been bombarding us with since she found out my husband left the church. Mark Shea seems to remember why he used to be protestant. Scott Hahn, not so much. Mark Shea remains charitable to and patient with his protestant brethren.
Scott Hahn ... well, anyway.

Another thing I picked up was a couple of prayer cards. You know, those little laminated cards with a prayer on one side and pictures of Jesus, Mary, or a Saint (or something else applicable to the prayer) on the other? One was a "Parent's Prayer" that sums up perfectly how I want God to help me parent. The other was a "Night Prayer for Healing" from past wrongs and hurts, including those I may have inflicted on other people. I always viewed these cards (as all things Catholic) with a certain amount of suspicion, but as I browsed the racks of them, I realized they are my prayers, prayers I've been saying for years, only worded more adequately than I had ever been able to accomplish on my own. And the artwork is beautiful. And they make really great bookmarks in my Bible. (I'm going to have to get a Catholic one of those, aren't I?)

Well, the baby is napping and the day calls, so I had better get on with it. It's a cool, windy fall day and I, for one, plan to enjoy it with some hearty food, hot coffee, a fire in the fireplace, some cuddle time with my husband and son, and the Word of God on my lips and in my heart. I'll try to flesh out my thoughts on Peter and get them posted before I attend Mass for my first time as a wannabe Catholic on Sunday. That should give me something to write about!

How was RCIA?

2005-11-07T22:44:00.000-05:00

I'm exhausted, so I have to keep this short. I just got back.

It was okay. Nothing life-changing, at least not tonight. Usually, the priest teaches the class, but tonight, the youth pastor did. He is . . . easily distracted. I'll leave it at that. Suffice it to say, I feel like we touched on a lot of different things, but barely covered the intended topic for tonight, which was Jesus: His Person and Natures.

One interesting thing we discussed was that Jesus, as God, was omnicient even in the womb, i.e. He was fully aware and still creating life while He Himself was being knit inside of Mary. That's sort of mind bending, isn't it?

Other than that, most of the ground covered was not new to me, and until the class moves more into Catholic theology and less into basic Christian theology, I'm not expecting that many surprises. Interestingly, the woman sitting next to me was a 45-year-old cradle Catholic who has attended church her whole life and still doesn't know a thing about scripture or the faith, which is why she signed up for RCIA. She was shocked when I knew the answer to why Jesus said "My God, why have you forsaken me?" on the cross and which Psalm He was referencing. "How do you know all that?" she asked incredulously. "Bible Church," I replied with a shrug. I'm guessing eleven years of Bible-saturated fundamentalist Protestantism will either make me teacher's pet, or the problem child.

Update

2005-11-07T10:29:00.000-05:00

Well, I'm in. The RCIA coordinator e-mailed me back and I can start classes tonight. I e-mailed her back and said I'd be there. Eep.

I guess tonight is as good a night as any, right?

I Made the Call

2005-11-07T09:59:00.000-05:00

Well, I did it. I called my local parish to ask about RCIA. RCIA stands for Rite of Christian Initiation for Adults, which as far as I can tell is something like "Catholicism 101" and a prerequisite for confirmation. I just took a deep breath, dialed the number . . . and got a machine! "Press 1 if you know your party's extension, press 2 for mass times, press 0 to reach the operator . . ." I don't know why I found this funny, but I did. I pressed 0, got the operator, and asked if it was too late to sign up for RCIA classes. I fully expected her to say yes. But to my surprise, she said she didn't think so, and gave me the home number and e-mail for the lady in charge of RCIA.

I sent an e-mail and I'm waiting for the reply. At this point, I'm hoping I can still slide in under the wire -- the class started a month ago, but I'm a quick study, I think I'll catch up. It's just that I want to start learning NOW! Not next fall. What would I do with myself for a whole year in the meantime? Aside from that, starting RCIA now would give me the option to take first communion this Easter as opposed to Easter 2007. I don't know if I'll be ready to do that by then, but I don't want to be in a situation where I am ready and then have to wait another year. That, to put not too fine a point on it, would SUCK.

A Wrench in the Works, part II

2005-11-05T20:29:00.000-05:00

Wow. Just wow. Where do I begin?

There was a time, not so very long ago, that I thought "I could never be Catholic." Apostate, corrupt, deceitful, distracting . . . these were all adjectives I'd used to describe the Catholic Church. I was a daughter of Luther -- someone who loved his faith so much he was willing to die for it, and who believed his church had gone astray. He did what he could to save it from within, then left when he realized he could only keep his faith from without.

Luther was a good thing. I still believe this. I love his heart, his courage, his commitment. And he did what he set out to do -- in the end, the Roman church reformed itself on the matter of indulgences-for-sale -- which was the crux of his grievance from the start. It was only later, after the bitterness of rejection and persecution had clouded his vision, that he made many of the changes he did in his own theology, and by extension, the entire protestant world's.

But therein lies the rub. Luther's actions were never meant to start a new religion. He didn't intend to split off from the Catholic (universal) church. That he ended up doing so is an accident of the Roman church's slow reaction and Luther's own human frailty.

Where am I going with this?

Sigh.

My husband went out of town this week. I had a lot of time to think, pray, read, study, etc. And somewhere along the way, God smacked me upside the head with His truth -- and I'm pretty sure He told me it's found in the Roman Catholic Church.

Oh, my God, my parents are going to kill me.

The website I have listed at the right, Scripture Catholic, was the final straw, so to speak, though at the time I thought it was nothing more than a catalyst. But I say it was the final straw because looking back, God had been setting me up for this all along. How did I not see it? The desire for liturgy. The longing for Holy Communion. The constant whispered reminders that if I truly believe, my WORKS will tell the story. The searching online for a Crucifix to wear, because I felt like I needed to remember Jesus ON the cross and what He did there, and not just the fact that He had risen.

At the appropriate times, He placed little treasures in my path, things I didn't even know my heart was pondering until the full truth of them hit me all at once like an avalanche. There was a little article that mentioned in part how protestants were like Pharisees and the Church like Jesus: these upstanding religious people wailed and tore their garments at the sheer arrogance and audacity of an entity that would call itself the one true way. It cut me to the core at the time, but I ignored it. Then the article about infant baptism -- backed up with thorough Greek scholarship and exegesis. It was enough to make me want to barge into my toddler's bedroom at 1 AM and baptise him myself, only I didn't know if it would be considered valid.

And then I saw the citation at the bottom of the article: Scripture Catholic. I spent hours at that site, Bible in hand, poring over text after text . . . only to find that, when read in light of Catholic theology, Holy Scripture simply CAME ALIVE. I have always envied Beth Moore for her sheer joy in reading the scriptures. She is on fire for the Word of God in a way I always thought I could just hope to be. But as I read the Gospels with the mind of a Catholic, I had the same passion. Peter was real. Jesus was real. Paul was real. Mary was real. Not that I didn't believe in them before, but they always felt so far away. But I suddenly I felt kinship with them, and a real sense that they were right there with me, saying "See? We've been there too, and we have so much to offer you if you will only come fellowship with us!" And I knew that the way to do that was through the Communion of Saints, found in the Catholic Church.

I'm not there yet. There are still too many questions. But here I stand, on the edge of the Tiber, and suddenly it doesn't look so cold, deep and shark-infested. Suddenly it looks like I could walk on that water like Peter did. Straight across into the arms of my Savior.

Fear of the Lord

2005-11-03T08:57:00.000-05:00

I have been thinking of the fear of the Lord (Proverbs 23:17). I keep thinking that if I really feared Him, I'D DO WHAT HE SAYS!

When I was young, I knew if I disobeyed Daddy I was risking a belt to the bottom. I knew he loved me, and I loved him, but he didn't mess around when it came to discipline. That said, my daddy is a mere man. How much more should I walk in respect and trembling fear of the God of the universe? How terrified and in awe should I be that He knows my name, knows who I am, and cares about how I behave?

Yes, His mercies are infinite, but that doesn't mean I'm entitled to them! I have to work out my salvation in fear and trembling, like the Bible says. I'm reminded of President Reagan -- "Trust but verify." I trust that I am saved by the blood of Jesus, but I want to do everything I can to verify to God that I am truly trying to follow His Son in the way of righteousness.

A Meaningful Prayer

2005-10-31T21:13:00.000-05:00

Sorry for the delay in updating. My husband is out of town on business, and it's hard to find the time to write anything when you're home alone with a 16 month old 24 hours a day with no help.

I took the baby to the mega-church on Sunday after dropping my husband off at the airport. Because of the time change, there was no way he would have lasted through the 10:15 AM service at the Anglican church. That's naptime. So we went to our old church, and what do you know, we scored one of the four days a year (or so) that they actually did communion! I really felt like God was looking out for me and honoring my desire to worship Him by partaking of Holy Communion in addition to attending church and reading/living His Word.

Anyway, there's nothing much happening on my spiritual front right this second (ed. note: famous last words, part II) because I'm too exhausted to do anything but pray right now. But on the subject of prayer, I came across this beautiful prayer that someone calling him/herself "Knitting a Conundrum" posted here after contemplating the parable of the Pharisee and the Tax Collector:

Forgive us, Lord,
For all the hours of speculating
on the mechanics of your grace
instead of living as salt and light,
your beacons to a dark and sinful world.

Forgive us Lord,
for all the hours we argue
about the right method of prayer
instead of praying,
humble and grateful.

Forgive us Lord,
For all the ways
We cut those who are different than we,
Instead of seeing them as beloved by you,
and deserving of our love.

Forgive us Lord
For all the ways we try to decide
if a person is deserving of our help
instead of seeing him
as sent by you
so we can act with the love you taught us.

Forgive us, Lord,
for all of the petty ways we subvert your word.
Fill our hearts,
cleanse us of the darkness
that keeps us from you,
from being your tool
this day and always,
Amen.

Amen.

We had a talk

2005-10-25T09:18:00.000-04:00

The baby is wreaking havoc in the living room, so I'll make this quick (yes, I know I said "naptimes and after dinner" -- forgive me). I talked to my husband last night, and it seems like the best course of action for now is for me to attend a weeknight communion service at the neighborhood Lutheran church (Jezebel notwithstanding) and we will begin a new search for a church together on Sunday mornings.

It's a compromise, but one I'm more than willing to live with. I was feeling very convicted yesterday when some dear sisters in Christ gently suggested that he might feel a tad bewildered and left out by my charging full speed ahead in a new spiritual direction. I was making decisions for our family that I had no business making, and for that I have been duly chastened.

I will write a nice letter to the vicar of the Anglican church I've been attending. If he's worth his salt as a pastor and man of God, he'll understand. Maybe we'll still end up attending there, I don't know. But God will have to lead my husband there. It's His job to lead my husband, not mine.

Jezebel -- Back And Better Than Ever!

2005-10-25T00:00:00.000-04:00

Touchstone Magazine reports that Fortress Press, the publisher owned by the ever-evolving (yeah, that's the word) Evangelical Lutheran Church in America (ELCA) has released a book called The Jezebel Letters, making a feminist case for Jezebel as a strong, positive female leader.

Apparently, the Fortress press release stated that the book "transforms the stereotype of the notorious biblical queen into a more historically based portrayal of a powerful, literate royal woman."

Uh huh. Because just making things up is way more "historical" than believing the "stereotypes" of the Holy Bible.

The sound you hear? That's me, banging my head on the keyboard, lamenting the dizzying spiral into apostasy of the church I grew up in. Or it might be Luther spinning in his grave. One or the other. Sigh.

A Wrench in the Works (Famous Last Words)

2005-10-24T21:40:00.000-04:00

My husband grew up Roman Catholic and left that church a year or two before we met. He joined the same mega-church that I did when I moved here, and we met there at an event for singles. He has always seemed quite happy at the mega-church when we show up, but since our baby has been born, we have been less frequent attenders for reasons of logistics as well as issues with the church's handling of families who want to worship together (Hint: they'd prefer you use the nursery.).

Lately, as I've posted before, I have been attending a small Anglican church on my own that I truly enjoy -- I grew up in a liturgical tradition (Lutheran) and I find that if I set my mind and spirit to it, I can glean a lot from that format. I also like that in a liturgical church, the congregation participates! The readings, the prayers, the hymns, communion . . . you really have to pay attention and do your part to make it into a real worship experience. At our mega-church, all you have to do is show up and be entertained. You could literally sleep through a service and no one would notice because absolutely nothing is required of you in the way of participation.

So, for the past two weeks, my husband has agreed to accompany me to the Anglican church to see what it is all about. On the one hand, he "gets it" about small church vs. big church, spiritual vs. life application, and participation vs. passivity. On the other hand, he is really struggling with the idea of going "Catholic lite" instead of Catholic. He wonders why we don't just go to the Catholic church since the Episcopal/Anglican church is nearly identical in format. He keeps saying "How can I justify going 'Catholic lite' when we could just go to the real Catholic church instead?"

I keep trying to explain to him that they are not the same thing, because the beliefs differ! There are some major, major disagreements between me (and the Lutheran and Anglican traditions) and the Catholic church (and in my opinion, between the Bible and the Catholic church). There's not a whole lot of differences numerically, but the several that are there are HUGE. I'm talking veneration and devotion to Mary, infallibility of the Pope, transubstantiation, praying to saints . . . these are not small issues, they are salvation issues to me! I see these things as idolatry. I realize the Roman Catholic church disagrees strongly with me on that, and that's fine, but it's the reason I cannot in good faith attend a Roman Catholic church!

Please understand that I don't think Catholics are going to hell. Not in the least. I know they believe in and worship the same Christ I do. But I do think their church is teaching a flawed understanding of these (and other) issues. Since I believe I have been educated with a correct understanding of these issues, I think it would be sin for ME to overlook these wrong teachings and join the Catholic church anyway.

I keep trying to explain these things to my husband, and I'm just not sure he gets it. It's literally like it doesn't register. For him, attending Catholic church would be a simple return to the tradition of his youth, requiring little effort and gaining much approval from his mother and siblings (who were, and are, absolutely scandalized by his break from Catholicism). But for me, it would require conversion. Going to RCIA classes. Getting confirmed. Turning my back on what I have always known to be true. If I failed to do this, I would never be able to participate in communion, which would be horrible for me because I do believe in the Real Presence (just not transubstantiation -- I believe in consubstantiation, and to explain the difference would take so much space as to be a whole other post for another time). Not to mention the fact that my parents would be appalled -- maybe even more so than my husband's mother already is. These things, were I to find The Truth in the Roman Catholic church, would not be insurmountable problems, obviously, since Christ said the Truth would divide even families. But seeing as how I don't believe in the Catholic church at all, I really don't think any of it would be appropriate.

All this time I thought my husband had the same fundamental differences with the Catholic church that I did. Now I'm thinking that might not be the case. He told me last night that he left because he wasn't "being fed." He didn't elaborate and getting him to explain himself is like pulling teeth.

I'm about ready to give up on my search for a more challenging spiritual environment and stick with the mega-church if all the liturgical church is going to do is send my husband back to the Catholic church. I really, really don't want our family to be spiritually divided, and it would be if that happened, because I am not going to convert to Catholicism anytime soon. (Obviously if my husband, as the spiritual head of the household, decided he really wanted us attending the Roman Catholic church, I'd go, but I couldn't in good faith participate! And so we would be divided, and it would be horrible for our marriage and horrible for our son.)

So today, I am wondering if we should just stick with the mega-church because my husband is getting fed there, even if I'm not.

I told him matter-of-factly last night that I think we at just very different places in our spiritual walk right now. That's not good or bad, and it doesn't mean one of us is "ahead" of the other -- it just means we're unique. I guess our job now is to figure out how to stay unified in our uniqueness. Pray for us.

Happy Are Those Who Walk in the Law of the Lord

2005-10-21T12:09:00.000-04:00

By the grace of God, I did it! I set the coffee machine to make me a fresh pot at 7 AM, went to bed at 10 PM, and while I missed my mark of waking and showering before 7, I did get up happily as soon as the baby woke me and got in some Bible time, too.

Since I have been reading a chapter of Hebrews every night before bed, I decided to read some Psalms this morning to put me in a good frame of mind for the rest of the day. Usually I read the shorter, more vague and generic, feel-good kind of Psalms because they make me happy. Just a few short verses about how faithful the Lord is, how much He loves us and has mercy on us, and how He saves us from spiritual death. What better way to start the day than by contemplating such things?

But this morning I decided I was up for a challenge. There is one chapter of Psalms I have never been able to force myself to read all the way through, and that's Psalm 119 -- the 176-verse long monster of a love letter to . . . God's law?

God's law, the law I break and/or ignore on a routine basis. The law that is ever nagging at the back of my mind as I live for my wretched self. The law that I would go to hell for breaking, had Jesus not, in the Father's infinite mercy, been sacrificed to pay for my redemption and forgiveness. That law. Goody.

So I opened the Bible I keep downstairs, which is a New Revised Standard Version (favored by Catholics and Anglicans), and the first verse, as worded in the NRSV, just about knocked me out of my chair. "Happy are those whose way is blameless, who walk in the law of the Lord." Suddenly I was seeing this verse with new eyes. It did not say "Saved are those who walk in the law of the Lord." It did not say "Righteous are those who walk in the law of the Lord." It didn't even say "More loved by God are those who walk in the law of the Lord." No, it said "Happy." Happy are those who walk in the law of the Lord.

All at once I started thinking the author of this Psalm wasn't the holier-than-thou, unattainable saint I always thought he was. He wasn't condemning the reader to a life of unworthiness for failing to keep God's precepts. He was telling us how to be happy. God's law isn't a death sentence -- it's an instruction book on how to have a happy, fulfilled life. Happy are those who walk in the law of the Lord.

I went upstairs and opened my trusty NASB, supposedly the most literal English-language translation available. Since I don't speak Greek or Hebrew (yet!), it would have to do. The more literal translation is apparently "Blessed are those whose way is blameless, who walk in the law of the Lord." Again, not saved, righteous or loved, but "blessed." Well, the word "blessed" is such a uniquely religious word that it was no wonder it hadn't spoken to me as a sinner in quite the same way as the more human word "happy" did in the NRSV. "Blessed" is a word that has always been difficult for me to grasp. I usually think of it as having been given things -- health, family, love, prosperity. There's a part of me that knows the word means much, much more than that, but it has been hard for me to deepen my understanding. But coincidentally (yeah, right -- I don't believe in coincidence, especially when it comes to God), I have been reading Life of the Beloved by Henri Nouwen, and the chapter I finished last night was called "Blessed."

According to Nouwen (and on this point I will have to take his word, since I do not speak Latin, either), the word "bless" in Latin is benedicere and the word "benediction" literally means speaking (dictio) well (bene) of someone. So a blessing, in one respect, can be an admission of worthiness. When God blesses us, He is saying good things about us and calling us worthy. Is it any wonder that those who keep His laws are blessed?

But paradoxically, it's not because they've kept His laws that they are called blessed. After all, none of us are capable of keeping God's laws without His divine intervention. We are flawed creatures, doomed from the start, and it is only God's grace that allows us to do anything good at all. The reason that those who follow God's law are called blessed is that He loves them. He has cleansed them and made them worthy, just because He wanted to, and because it glorified Him. It is not under their own power that they have kept His precepts -- no one can do that but for God's grace, grace, grace. And under the Old Covenant, when this Psalm was written, surely only the grace of God could have saved a person, just as today, since it would have been impossible for any person to keep every one of God's laws without His direct help.

So what does this mean for believers today, since we are no longer under the law of the Old Testament?

Jesus came to fulfill the law and free us from the Old Covenant. It is no longer by the law that we are saved, but by His sacrifice. So those who are in Jesus, who are in the New Covenant in His blood, are part of a covenant in which the law is fulfilled. By the blood of Jesus, every jot and tittle of the law has been honored and fulfilled for those who love Him. How much more are we who give our lives to Christ blessed than those long ago who relied on the law and grace to save them? How well does God speak of us who are part of a covenant in which every law is fulfilled? And most of all, how very happy should that make us?

I still haven't gotten past verse 25 of Psalm 119, but I'm no longer afraid of it. On the contrary, I am looking forward to savoring it over the next several mornings and gleaning beauty and truth from all 176 verses. I already have more I want to say, but I'll save it for another time.

Goals

2005-10-20T13:00:00.000-04:00

In the interest of accountability, I am posting my goals, spiritual and otherwise, for tomorrow and next week.

1. Set the coffeemaker every night to have a fresh pot ready for me at 7 the next morning.
2. Rise before 7 AM, shower and read a chapter of the Bible over coffee. Pray.
3. Do at least one load of laundry every day.
4. Limit my computer use to the baby's naptimes and after dinner.
5. Go to bed by 11 PM each night.

Yes, it's simplistic. But I have to get a handle on the simple stuff before I can begin tackling the hard stuff.

No one said it would be easy (notes on discipline)

2005-10-20T10:26:00.000-04:00

Why is it that I expect my Christian walk to come naturally to me? Why is it that I use my natural "bent" as an excuse for not doing what God asks of me, when God is the one who made me this way in the first place?

There is an issue in my life that may seem trivial in the great scheme of things, but really, it's not. The issue is this: I am so NOT a morning person. I mean, useless-before-ten-A.M., talk-to-me-after-I've-had-my-coffee, please-for-the-love-of-God-just-ten-more-minutes NOT a morning person. It is actually painful for me to wake up in the morning. In my working life, I was fortunate (or perhaps not-so-fortunate, in the bigger picture) to have a series of understanding bosses who let me keep a 10-to-6 schedule rather than discipline me for not being there by 8. My new boss is 16 months old and not nearly as permissive. He rises at 7:30 on a good morning, 5:30 on a particularly hellish one. I am invariably still deep in Dreamland when his call comes over the baby monitor. If the hour is too early and the world still dark, my husband gets up and tries to put the little guy back to bed. If it's a good day, I get up, carry the munchkin downstairs, stick him in the high chair with some fruit and a piece of toast and hope that he doesn't notice I'm still asleep.

Why is this important? It speaks to a larger lack of self-discipline. Proverbs 31 speaks of the excellent wife and mother. She is, above all else, disciplined. Working late into the night and rising before the sun, she attends to the needs of her household and her community and her family calls her blessed.

Right now at my house, there is a mountain of laundry waiting for me in the basement. Toilets need to be cleaned, junk sorted through and donated, and dishes unloaded from the dishwasher. I woke up at 7:30 this morning with the baby, it's now 10:20 and all I've done is give him breakfast, take a bath, give him a bath, and surf the internet. I could have accomplished much more than that in 3 hours, but I didn't feel like it. How ugly! How lazy! How sinful!

I often rationalize my lack of self-discipline by telling myself that those who are successful homemakers are probably natural neat freaks and early risers. It must be easier for them. But who ever promised me it would be easy? I'm called to serve God and my family in an honorable way if it kills me! Literally. It being "easy" or my even wanting to do it doesn't matter a bit. Was suffering on the cross easy for Jesus? Was watching Him die easy for His followers? Right now, my ministry is my home. And while it may seem to pale in importance to the work of Christ, in a way, it IS the work of Christ. What I do here and now will largely determine the fate -- spiritually, emotionally, relationally and otherwise -- of my son, not to mention my marriage. Do I want my family to call me blessed? Do I want to honor my Lord and my God? Then I need to stop expecting "easy" and come to relish "hard."

I've got to go -- hard work (and much joy) calls.

Life of the Beloved

2005-10-19T15:52:00.000-04:00

So, I'm reading this amazing book by Henri J.M. Nouwen called "Life of the Beloved." The subtitle is "Spiritual Living in a Secular World." I originally bought it for my husband because he works in an office filled with completely secular, anti-Christian people who give him a hard time about his faith and morals constantly. I do think it will help him in that regard -- not to "win" the argument, as so many books for the Christian "in the world" tend to teach, but to be Jesus to these people. Unfortunately for him, he's not going to get anything out of the book for a couple of days because I won't put it down.

I'm only on page 49, but so far, I have been both convicted and uplifted. Nouwen, a Catholic priest, wrote the book as a love letter of sorts to a secular Jewish friend who kept asking him to explain the hope he had. I believe the letter, while completely appropriate for the audience it was intended for, speaks even more loudly to those of us with a foundation of faith in Jesus Christ.

Nouwen speaks of self-rejection and the traps of success, power and money as one and the same -- the former being the impetus for people to seek the latter in a futile effort to alleviate the pain. On page 35, he says:

"Aren't you, like me, hoping that some person, thing, or event will come along to give you that final feeling of inner well-being you desire? Don't you often hope: "May this book, idea, course, trip, job, country, or relationship fill my deepest desire." But as long as you are waiting for that mysterious moment you will go on running helter-skelter, always anxious and restless, always lustful and angry, never fully satisfied. You know that this is the compulsiveness that keeps us going and busy, but at the same time makes us wonder whether we are getting anywhere in the long run. This is the way to spiritual exhaustion and burn-out. This is the way to spiritual death."

But, he continues:

" ... you and I don't have to kill ourselves. We are the Beloved. We are intimately loved long before our parents, teachers, spouses, children and friends loved or wounded us. That's the truth of our lives. That's the truth I want you to claim for yourself. That's the truth spoken by the voice that says "You are my Beloved."

Friends, we ARE the Beloved. God knew and loved each of us before he formed us in our mothers' wombs. He has a plan for each of us, and a plan for all of us, together. He knows us, and loves us, right where we are at this very moment. He loves who we're going to be. And that's where our worth comes from. Not from striving or success or figuring it all out. Just from being created and loved by God. Praise Him for His mercy!

A Beautiful Faith

2005-10-18T20:59:00.000-04:00

In the wee hours of this morning, when it was still dark outside, the phone rang. Everyone knows that can't possibly be good news -- that only happens when someone has died.

Sure enough, the caller ID displayed my parents' phone number in California. I answered the call in abject terror, worried that my beloved Dad, with his many health problems, had suddenly passed away. I was simultaneously relieved and chastened to hear that it was not my father but my grandmother on my mother's side, the last of my surviving grandparents, who had passed away.

In a way, the relief went beyond knowing that my Daddy was fine. The relief was also a sense of joy and thankfulness that my grandmother had finally gone to be with the Jesus she had devoted her entire life to. For years, she had been little more than a prisoner in her own body. Her mind was unreliable, her body compromised, and she could participate in none of the things that had made her life worth living since her husband had cruelly left her so many years before. In September, I had done all but move heaven and earth to see her with my sixteen-month-old son at the rest home where she resided in California. I knew full well it may be the last time I or my son would ever see her, but the reality didn't hit me until it was fully true, at 6 this morning, whem my Mom told me Nana had gone to be with Jesus.

But oh, how happy I am for her! This is a woman who spent her entire life serving others for His sake. When I think back to my childhood, so many of the best memories are of times I spent with my Nana. She tried so hard to pass on her strong faith to us. Hours were spent watching Bible stories with her on video, attending Church with her, and participating in something her church called Pathfinders, which was like a scouting program for boys and girls.

By the time my little sister and I were born, she had already given all of her financial resources to send our older cousins through private Christian school and college. So she packed up her things and moved two hours north to the town we were raised in so she could be there for us. And oh, how she was. So many hours were spent swimming with her at the pool. While my mother, ever self-critical despite her supermodel looks, sat on the pool deck fully clothed, my 5'2", 200 lb. grandma would jump into the pool with us in a bathing suit and swim cap. We swam with her, walked with her, dined with her, camped with her in exciting locations! I don't know what her relationship with my older cousins was like before we were born, but I think that if they got the money, and we got her time, attention and love, then we got the better end of the deal, without question.

But Nana is gone now. Gone to be with the Jesus she loved so much. I hope he is reassuring her now. She was a Seventh Day Adventist, and I know she was concerned that my mother's, my father's, and us kids' salvation was in jeopardy because we didn't keep a Saturday Sabbath. I hope the Jesus I love, and she loves, will tell her now that we love Him so much, and we love her so much, and we will see her in heaven one day.

In the meantime, enjoy heaven, Nana. You've waited your whole life for this. I hope you were filled with unspeakable gratitude and joy when He said to you, "Well done, good and faithful servant."

Blessed are those who hear the word of God and observe it.

2005-10-18T11:01:00.000-04:00

It's hard to pinpoint the exact moment that I realized how shallow my faith truly was. I just know that God started leading me again and again to verses and commentary and thought that highlighted what Jesus said in Luke 11:28 . . . "Blessed are those who hear the word of God and observe it."

Blessed are those who hear the word of God and observe it.

The words began reverberating in my mind constantly.

Had I observed, kept, and obeyed the word of God since my conversion more than ten years earlier? Of course I had sinned and fallen short of the glory of God -- we all do, every last one of us (Romans 3:23). That's why Jesus died on the cross -- to forgive our sins. But I came to realize that I was guilty of a far greater sin -- the sin of omission. Not only had I read God's instructions on what not to do and failed to stop myself from doing those things, but worse than that, I had read God's instructions on what to do and completely ignored them. I had not cared for the widowed and the orphans. I had not loved my neighbor as myself. I had not even managed to love God above all other gods -- self and security had served me just fine as idols to devote my life to.

In the process of trying to rid myself of outward sin, I had completely neglected the inward sins of laziness and apathy. Whatever fire I had in my heart for Christ when I thought about His love for me and His sacrifice for me (because it's all about me, right?) was surely in danger of being extinguished by the lukewarm water of my Christian witness. What had I really done for the Kingdom of Christ? I had spoken against sin, surely. I stood up in my community for morality and obedience and wholesomeness. Fine, even the Pharisees did that much. But when was the last time I had fed the hungry, ministered to the sick, befriended the lonely outcast? I was increasingly embarrassed to realize that the answer was, "I can't even remember."

Thank God that He had the mercy to hold this mirror in front of my face while there was yet time to fix the deformities. I can only give glory to Him that I even noticed my ugliness, because in the fundamentalist protestant culture of the United States, I am sorry to say, I fit right in. Sadly, I was like one of the pigs in that old Twilight Zone episode where they were giving the beautiful woman plastic surgery. So surrounded by ugliness was I that I had come to think of it as beauty.

This is not to say that fundamentalist Christians are all this way (not by a longshot), or that there is someting inherently flawed with fundamentalism itself. But the way it is increasingly being practiced here in America, with churches commercializing themselves to attract membership and preaching mostly "life application" with very little spiritual application is a recipe for a self-centered, self-serving body of Christ.

So where am I going with this? Is it just a rant? Is there a point to this story?

That's the funny part -- I don't really know. I started this blog as a way to work through my spiritual issues as God continues smacking me upside the head with His truth. You can follow along if you like. For right now, I have left the fundamentalist mega-church I've been attending for five years and have been taking communion at a small Anglican church on Sunday mornings. It's not a divorce with the mega-church, it's more like a sabbatical. There's too much wonderful teaching there to leave forever. But for me, the sheer size (10,000 members) of my old church made it very easy for me to sit on the sidelines and never do a thing. No one ever called me on it because hardly anyone even knew my name. After a just one month at the Anglican church, most of the congregation knows my name, my spouse's name, and my son's name. It's not likely we'll be able to sit in the back and be lazy now. I'm also there for the spiritual application teaching. I don't just want to know how to apply God's word to my life anymore -- I want to know how to internalize it, become it, and apply it to the lives of others in a way that blesses them. So far, the Anglican church is challenging me on that.

As for the crisis in the Episcopal/Anglican church at large, I'll be covering that on this blog, along with the problems in the Lutheran church of my youth and some of the very different, but equally frustrating problems in the fundamentalist/evangelical church at large. Don't worry, though, it won't all be bitching. As God leads me down this new path, I expect there to be blessings and epiphanies, and incredible joy as He leads me to a new understanding of what following His Son really means.

So read if you like. Comment if you want to. I welcome additional perspectives as I try to find God's beacon of light through the fog that men and our traditions have for so long created around it. May God bless and forgive us all as we stumble like clumsy babies toward His truth.

Ten miles wide and an inch deep

2005-10-17T23:02:00.000-04:00

So, I've been thinking a lot lately, and realizing my faith is not what I thought it was. In fact, I have come to the terrifying realization that I actually have no idea what it is that I believe. Sure, I know the Apostles' Creed and the Nicene Creed inside and out. I believe every word of them. I know that I am a sinner, that Christ died to forgive my sins, that He rose again and now sits in heaven with Our Father God, where he will one day judge us all.

What I am suddenly unsure of is what any of that actually means.

No, I haven't lost my faith. In a weird way, I feel closer to Jesus than ever. It's just that I've suddenly come to an understanding that my faith has been ten miles wide and an inch deep, and as a result, has weak roots and some seriously unappetizing fruit.

I was baptized Episcopalian by my parents shortly after birth, then they church hopped until we settled in a Lutheran church when I was five. We remained there until it was almost time for my confirmation, then moved to another nearby city. I signed up for confirmation classes, but I can't remember whether I ever actually attended one. If I did, I don't recall learning anything. Ultimately, I started attending a Baptist church in my new city with a school friend, and learned what it meant to be Saved. I gave my heart to Jesus at a weekend retreat for junior high school students, when it occured to me that while I had heard the message of salvation every Sunday at the Lutheran church, I had never actually internalized it -- I had done plenty of praying to God for things I wanted, but I couldn't recall ever asking forgiveness for sins, or thanking Him for His blessings and/or sacrifice. No one, it seemed, had ever even bothered to tell me how very important this was.

I will be eternally (pardon the pun) grateful to the Baptist church for saving my soul. My soul needed saving, for sure, even at the tender age of 13. But this fundamentalist congregation was my introduction to a faith far wider than it was deep. Soon I could quote chapter and verse the difference between right and wrong and tell you the bare minimum essentials for salvation in my sleep (no works necessary!!!). I could tell you exactly what was wrong with Catholic, Mormon, Jewish and Muslim theology. I could wax poetic on "the fruits of the spirit" or "the signs of the end times" or "the ACTS way to pray." Anything with a clever acronym was easy to remember and whip out in conversation as needed. I became fluent in "Christianese" -- the spiritual shorthand believers use to communicate. I was "on fire for God," never going to "backslide," focused on my "walk." I justified things I wanted to do by convincing myself that God had "put them on my heart." And maybe He had. But when High School came along and God was putting certain boys "on my heart . . . " well, let's just say that didn't always turn out so well.

At any rate, it didn't take very long until I became the most dangerous sort of person -- the type of person who knows a little bit about everything, and a lot about nothing. My faith consisted of soundbites, catchphrases, and a deep conviction that I had found the Truth. And it stayed that way for years. I went to college (Lutheran), moved across the country, joined a mega-church, met a wonderful Christian man, got married, had a baby . . . life was good. And then God shook things up.

Contemplation (emphasis mine)

2005-10-17T22:57:00.000-04:00

1 entry found for contemplating.
Main Entry: observant
Part of Speech: adjective
Definition: alert

Synonyms: advertent, alive, arrect, attentive, bright, clear-sighted, comprehending, considering, contemplating, deducing, detecting, discerning, discovering, discriminating, eager, eagle-eyed, heedful, intelligent, intentive, interested, keen, mindful, obedient, observative, penetrating, perceptive, questioning, quick, regardful, searching, sensitive, sharp, sharp-eyed, submissive, surveying, understanding, vigilant, watchful, wide-awake

Source: Roget's New Millennium™ Thesaurus, First Edition (v 1.1.1)
Copyright © 2005 by Lexico Publishing Group, LLC. All rights reserved.