Rebecca C. Ruiz

Opening up to the “God of Surprises”

A friend of mine lost his mother this past autumn. He was a good son – truly generous and always there for his mother during the illness preceding her death.

Today, he was so happy that it looked like he was “floating on air.”

So, I said, “What’s up?”

He said he knew that his mom had a small life insurance policy for burial but when he went to cash it in, the insurance company asked how he wanted the payment for the other policy. It was a large policy and he had no knowledge of it. He was able to pay off all of his debts and still had money left over. He showed me the bank receipts for all those debts with balances that had been zeroed out – student loans, cars, credit cards – all gone.

“I had no idea!” What a gift,” he said with tears in his eyes.

My first thought was that “it couldn’t have happened to a nicer person.” Of course, his mother knew that and she wanted to give him a big gift – the gift of freedom. She liberated him from debt. It was a completely unexpected gift, a gift of great magnitude for him and his family.

This man’s generosity to his mother and the magnitude of her gift to her son brought to my mind the Gospel passage: “Give and gifts will be given to you; a good measure, packed together, shaken down, and overflowing, will be poured into your lap. For the measure with which you measure will in return be measured out to you” (Luke 6:38).

It occurred to me that if paying off physical debt can be so freeing, how much more liberating then is God’s generous and loving offer of freedom of mind, body, and spirit?

He offers to forgive us our debts…all of our sins, he offers to take them. All that weighs on us, he offers to take that too.

Yet, we often box God in. We tend to limit our prayers and requests. Often, when we pray, we don’t want to ask too much of Him. Perhaps we are trying to be polite and “not bother Him too much.” Perhaps we possess magical thinking and don’t want to use up our “three wishes” until we really need them. Sometimes, we think our troubles are so many and so big that we don’t want to “overwhelm” God with them.

Regardless of the thought process though, our misconceptions limit God. When we neglect to pour out our whole hearts to Him – with all of our concerns and all of our problems – we set limits on how much we are willing to receive from Him. He wants to give us “in good measure and overflowing” but we say, “Oh, I’ll just take a little.”

The saints knew well of God’s abundant kindness. St. Teresa of Avila once said, “You pay God a compliment by asking great things of Him.” Likewise, St. Therese of Liseaux said, “To limit your desires and your hopes is to misunderstand God’s infinite goodness.”

Echoing this sentiment, Pope Francis often challenges us not to limit God. He asks, “Am I attached to my things, to my ideas, am I closed (off)? Or am I open to the God of surprises?” (Hom. 10/13/14).

Don’t be bashful with God – don’t be too polite with God. After all, he already knows what’s in our hearts and what we need. Just unload all of your debts at His feet – debts of mind, body and spirit – and then trust that He’s got them.

When we do this, we make room for the abundance of blessings He wants to pour out on us. We open ourselves to the gifts He offers each of us – gifts of peace, love, and joy in all areas of life. And, we open ourselves to the grace of being able to really trust God – to the trust that He’s got us and that He has great things in store for each of us.

We say “Yes!” to the “God of Surprises.”

Pope Francis has declared the coming year to be an “Extraordinary Jubilee Year of Mercy.” Throughout the world, in each diocese, a special door of a church will be opened welcoming people back to the Church and the sacraments. With this declaration, Pope Francis reminds us of everything that God wants to offer us – spiritual debt forgiveness, overflowing love, and abundant blessings. For more information click on the following link:
http://en.radiovaticana.va/news/2015/05/05/jubilee_year_of_mercy_a_re-awakening_for_all_christians/1141832

Really, people?! How do you not recognize Him?

Every year, when I hear the Gospel passages about Mary not recognizing the resurrected Jesus at the tomb and the apostles also not recognizing Jesus when He joins them on the way to Emmaus, I imagine myself saying to them, “Really, people? How do you not recognize Him?! How can it be that you were with this man every day for all those years and you don’t know Him? How can you have completely given up everything in your life to follow after Him and you still don’t know who He is? You were with Him at Golgotha and still you don’t know Him? How can this be?”

Was it that He looked different? Perhaps. Maybe it was something more though too.

We see that both Mary and the disciples were in a state of emotional desolation. In John 20:11-18 we read that Mary, “weeping,” was so overcome by emotion at the tomb that she did not recognize the angels or Jesus for who they were. The disciples too, on the road to Emmaus, were feeling emotionally desolate. “They stopped, looking downcast” after having recounted to Jesus that they “were hoping that he would be the one to redeem Israel” (Luke 24:13-35). Both Mary and the disciples were so besieged by sorrow, so deeply entrenched in their loss, that they could not see past it to Jesus present with them.

In his book, The Discernment of Spirits: An Ignatian Guide for Everyday Living, Father Timothy Gallagher, OMV, speaks of the Ignatian practice of discerning the workings of God in our lives. His words, although addressed to the modern day reader, could just as well be applied to the Mary at the tomb and the disciples on the way to Emmaus. He writes:

“Though they feel separated from God, persons in spiritual desolation are not in fact separated from God who is ever “Emmanuel,” “God with us.” Ignatius is highlighting a fundamental characteristic of spiritual desolation; while it endures, any felt consciousness of God’s loving presence is weakened or absent, and such persons feel as if they were separated from God.” (p. 66).

Fr. Gallagher explains that God allows this kind of spiritual desolation so as to teach us. “Ignatius understands that when we faithfully resist spiritual desolation we “learn” spiritual lessons highly useful for our spiritual journey” (p. 68).

So, what is it that Mary and the disciples, who were suffering from both emotional and spiritual desolation, were supposed to learn? What is it that we can learn from their experiences? How are we to see Jesus present when we are blinded by emotion or when we just can’t sense His nearness?

It seems that there are many answers to these questions contained within the Emmaus story (Luke 24: 13-35):

Remember Him. The disciples were “conversing about all the things that had occurred.” They did not forget Jesus. They kept Him in mind.
Confess. Don’t be afraid to tell Jesus the truth. They confessed to Jesus that they really thought he was going to be the one to redeem Israel. They confessed to him their disappointment.
Believe. Do not be like the disciples who recount the resurrection story to Jesus Himself and are reproached by him. “Oh, how foolish you are! How slow of heart to believe all that the prophets spoke! Was it not necessary that the Christ should suffer these things and enter into his glory?”
Ask Him to stay. “But they urged him, ‘Stay with us…so he went to stay with them.’” They asked and they received what they asked for…and more.
Break bread with Him. “And it happened that, while he was with them at table, he took bread, said the blessing, broke it and gave it to them. With that their eyes were opened and they recognized him, but he vanished from their sight.” It was only when they broke bread with Jesus, that their eyes were opened. They could not see him for who He is before that moment. We cannot get by in the faith journey without the sacraments – confession, communion – they complete our faith.
Recognize the workings of the Holy Spirit in the heart and in the Word of God. “Then they said to each other, ‘Were not our hearts burning within us while he spoke to us on the way and opened the Scriptures to us?” When their eyes were opened, they could see God at work in their lives. Spend time with the Word of God and call upon the Holy Spirit to enlighten you as you read the Word.
Go forth together and spread the Good News. “So they set out at once…(and) recounted what had taken place on the way and how he was made known to them in the breaking of the bread.” Eucharist and community are essential to the faith journey and, once the Truth is “made known,” we cannot keep it to ourselves. We must go out and share – the Good News impels us to go forth.

It appears that there is no simple answer to my question, “Why do you not recognize Him?” Mary and the disciples had a lot of walking to do on their faith journeys before they could get to the point where they could recognize and see Jesus in truth. The same is true for us.

So, as we journey forth this Easter season, let us learn from the journeys of Mary and the two disciples on the road to Emmaus. Let us not end our journey in despair, but rather, ask the Holy Spirit to open our own eyes to see with the eyes of Christ and love with the heart of Christ so that we will always recognize His presence in our lives. Let us recall the wise words of St. John Paul II, “Do not abandon yourselves to despair. We are the Easter people and Alleluia is our song!”

Christ is Risen by Matt Maher

Such love

Holy Week Reflection on the Anima Christi – Tuesday of Holy Week

Corpus Christi, salve me. Body of Christ, save me.

On Palm Sunday, Pope Francis reminded us that, “By taking on the ‘form of a slave,’ Jesus shows us that true humility is expressed in service to others, and consists of stripping and emptying oneself of worldliness so as to make room for God.” Jesus gave us the ultimate example of humility and selfless love when he emptied his entire life in sacrifice for us. He loves us so completely that he gave all and continues to give all every day in the Sacrament of Communion. He’s always there, always completely and totally giving of Himself.

Our God is a God of relationship. Sometimes we take for granted the fact that Jesus took on flesh and lived as a human in a body. In so doing, he taught us how to live and behave in our own bodies and in our human relationships. We read in the Gospel account this week that as the time of His passion approached, “He was deeply troubled.” He was so troubled that He would shed tears of blood in the Garden of Gethsemane – that’s some real emotion! He experienced all of the human emotions that we also experience (although he never sinned). So, whatever we are feeling, we can bring it to Him and He will understand.

Jesus, help me to make room for you in my life and in my heart. Help me to trust you and grow in humility through you. Help me to appreciate and accept your sacrifice of love for me.

Listen: “What Love is This” by Kari Jobe

I was really not into Lent…

For years, I really was not into Lent. It was a sad time. I really just wanted to fast-forward through those forty days and get on to Easter.

A few years ago though, I was on a “purposeful living” kick. I was attempting to be present in each moment. As we entered Lent, I realized I would have to be present in Lent. So, I prayed that I might be able to accompany Jesus in His suffering that Lent. I resolved to live Lent purposefully – to be present with Him in His pain.

In my prayer I envisioned myself crouched down, ready to receive a football – I said “all right, I’m ready. I can take it. I’m with you, Jesus.”

You know that old adage, “be careful what you wish for because you might just get it?” Ooh. Let me tell you, be careful what you pray for too because you may just get it – and more.

What was I thinking?

It was the hardest Lent of my life. Every kind of hardship, difficulty, and temptation arose. At one point, I wondered why I even believed in God – a concept that previously would have been completely foreign to me. All kinds of things arose, one after the other – like a barrage of cannonballs – and I felt like I just wasn’t strong enough to handle them. I prayed, “Oh God, I think I prayed the wrong thing. I’m really sorry. Can you take it all away? I think I’m not strong enough to do this Lent thing with you.”

After coming clean with God about my complete and utter spiritual wimpiness, I opened a prayer book to the Anima Christi prayer. I had seen the prayer before, but this time it seemed to jump off the page at me. I resolved to pray it every time a difficulty arose. Things got easier. It became my “go to” prayer that Lent. In fact, it became one of my favorite “go to” prayers of all time.

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ANIMA Christi, sanctifica me. Corpus Christi, salva me. Sanguis Christi, inebria me. Aqua lateris Christi, lava me. Passio Christi, conforta me. O Bone Iesu, exaudi me. Intra tua vulnera absconde me. Ne permittas me separari a te. Ab hoste maligno defende me. In hora mortis meae voca me. Et iube me venire ad te, Ut cum Sanctis tuis laudem te in saecula saeculorum. Amen.

SOUL of Christ, sanctify me. Body of Christ, save me. Blood of Christ, inebriate me. Water from the side of Christ, wash me. Passion of Christ, strengthen me. O good Jesus, hear me. Within Thy wounds, hide me. Suffer me not to be separated from Thee. From the malicious enemy, defend me. In the hour of my death, call me. and bid me come unto Thee, that with thy saints I may may praise Thee for ever and ever. Amen.

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The more I prayed this prayer, the stronger I felt. The more I prayed it, the more I realized too that the Christian faith is less about taking things upon ourselves than handing them over to Jesus. He already suffered for us. We need to trust that He has suffered perfectly and hand every trouble and every difficulty over to Him. In all things, we are made strong in him – not by our own power – but though His sacrifice.

Yes, He wants our presence, we remember him asking his disciples to wait and stay awake in the Garden of Gethsemane. He has already done the suffering and dying though. He wants to give us Easter.

This realization was a transformative moment in my faith journey. Everything became easier, I felt lighter. The hardships, difficulties, and temptations still kept coming at me, but they didn’t rattle me. I felt grounded in Him because I was both painfully aware of my own limitations and also wonderfully aware of His complete abilities. Praying this prayer led to a gift that I couldn’t have prayed for – an unshakable confidence in Him.

During that same time, I came across a musical setting of the Anima Christi by composer Msgr. Marco Frisina of the Diocese of Rome. The harmonies are gorgeous and it remains, to this day, one of my favorite pieces. Truly, it is one of the most beautiful pieces of music I’ve ever heard. Having studied classical and liturgical music myself, I have come to regard Frisina as one of my favorite composers of the modern era.

So, before a recent trip to Rome, I remarked to a friend, “Wouldn’t it be awesome if somehow I could hear some of Frisina’s music while I was there?” It was a completely “blue sky” thought – a totally unlikely happenstance.

The fact is though, God always speaks the language of our hearts – and He happens to know what’s in them too.

While attending Mass at St. Peter’s Basilica, I heard familiar harmonies. I whispered to the woman standing to my right, “Isn’t that Marco Frisina?” “Si,” she replied. There was Msgr. Marco Frisina himself conducting the Anima Christi. Tears welled up in my eyes. I had prayed to accompany Jesus through Lent that year and found strength through this prayer. Now, I was sitting next to the composer, conducting a live performance, of this most beautiful setting of this prayer. It was like a gift just for me. Only God knew what I had prayed, and only He could know what an incredible gift it would be for me to hear this prayer that had been pivotal in my faith journey, in live performance, while sitting right next to the composer. It was a gift beyond words.

At that moment, I realized more than ever before, that God hears each one of our prayers. Each one of us is loved. Each one of us is cherished. He loves us so much that He wants to fulfill even the deepest desires of our hearts.

I sat there with tears streaming down, completely overwhelmed by His love.

As we enter this Holy Week, let us realize that this Love is offered to each one of us – He waits for us to come to Him so that He can give us His love.

As we contemplate His ultimate sacrifice this week, let us remember that we have nothing to lose in going to Him except our own suffering, pains, and troubles. We can accompany Him, and in the silence of our hearts, lay down our burdens at the foot of the cross.

Believe me, there is no better offer.

Setting of Anima Christi by Msgr. Marco Frisina, Performed by Choir of the Diocese of Rome

God and the VIP Treatment

So I went to my local coffee shop to get a coffee this morning. I paid and my number was immediately called. The funny thing was, there was a line of ten people in front of me waiting for their coffee too. As I came from the back of the line and was handed my coffee, those still waiting looked at me as if wondering how I “cut the line” and got such VIP service.

I kind of wondered too, given that I don’t have a VIP coffee card.

I do know though, that every time I walk into this place, they look happy to see me. Even when I’m in a pre-caffeinated, bleary-eyed, unbrushed-hair kind of state. It’s kind of like Norm on “Cheers.” They are always so animated in their greetings as I enter.

I thought about this as I walked out clutching my warm cup. It brought to mind the word “mercy” – God’s mercy. A timely thought, I suppose, given that Pope Francis just declared the coming year to be a “Year of Mercy.”

It has taken me a long time to figure out what the word “mercy” means. For a long time, it was a kind of obtuse term that I just couldn’t wrap my head around. I could only understand it in the sense of a king pardoning a subject.

I remember actually researching what the word meant. I read that you can exchange the word “mercy” with “God’s love” and it means about the same thing. As I read this definition though, I thought, well then why don’t we just write “God’s love”? Why do we still have a word “mercy”? There’s got to be more to it.

I think there is more to it. I’m slowly starting to understand what mercy means but I think understanding comes from experience of it. Mercy has to do with God’s action towards us because of His love for us. With God, every single one of us receives VIP treatment – whether we are in fact a VIP or a person that the world would view as a most unimportant person. St. Augustine said, “God loves each of us as if there were only one of us.” We are all loved completely by God – all desired completely by Him. We are all VIP’s to God.

Mercy is like that excited greeting, that VIP treatment, that gets us to the front of the line for no reason. We don’t need to have done everything exactly right, we don’t even need to have waited our turn. We can go to God as we are, a complete mess, and He’s just as excited to see us as if every hair were perfectly in place. When he sees us coming he is overjoyed to see us – he rushes to greet us at the end of the line. Pope Francis says, “God does not wait for us to go toward Him but it is He who moves toward us.”

Pope Francis also said, “God always thinks mercifully.” That’s because God operates out of love. We operate out of our own sense of what we think the order ought to be – but God’s ways are above our ways. We might be standing at the back of the line saying, “I have to wait my turn,” but God may pick us out and say “I choose you now.” It is we that need to open our minds to God and allow Him to work in the ways that He works – which always surpasses our own human sense of reason.

Pope Francis, who can talk endlessly about God’s love and mercy, also said, “The Lord is always there waiting to give us His love; it is an amazing thing, one which never ceases to amaze me!…He is indeed waiting for you; He asks of you only the courage to go to Him.”

Go to Him.

Let Him give you the VIP treatment.

“God always forgives us. He never tires of this. It’s we who get tired of asking for forgiveness. But He does not tire of pardoning us.” – Pope Francis

Losing the Masks this Lent

I was reading something that Marilyn Monroe wrote and it really resonated with me.

Monroe wrote, “I’m finding that sincerity, and to be [as] simple and direct as I’d like, is often taken for sheer stupidity.”

There is truth in her words. Sincerity and simplicity are not often-prized in modern times. Rather, from the time we are small, we are taught control – which often claims sincerity and simplicity as its casualty. We are taught to control our words, deeds, actions, goals, and dreams. We are taught that we can control our destiny and our entire world.

As we grow and realize that this is not actually always possible, we develop masks to cover those places where we feel less adequate or where we feel afraid. Nearly everyone develops these masks. There is a multi-million dollar industry built on the sale of self-improvement books that teach us how to project power and confidence in the boardroom – and every other area of life. They teach us to “pretend until you become” and “fake it until you make it.” They teach us how to survive by putting on masks of power and of control.

Yet, despite our best efforts to maintain control, hardships still arise. As much as we may try to project confidence and control our destinies with positive thoughts and illusions of power, difficult things still happen. How is one to reconcile this?

The problem with “masks” is that this mentality, this projection of control, completely closes the door to God. If we try to control everything and mask those things we fear we can’t control, we leave no opening for God to work in our lives.

Yet, whether or not we admit it to ourselves, God knows our minds and our hearts: “LORD, you search me and you know me: you know when I sit and when I stand; you understand my thoughts from afar. You sift through my travels and my rest; with all my ways you are familiar. Even before a word is on my tongue, LORD, you know it all.” (Psalm 139)

God knows what is under our masks. It is in this place of sincerity and simplicity that God works without hindrance. He is at home in our unabashed fears and in our unencumbered happiness. St. Therese of Liseaux, contemplating ways to get to heaven, spoke of her “Little Way.” It is a way of simplicity. In St. Therese’s “Little Way,” there are no masks – just overflowing love for her Creator, the desire to please Him in her every deed, and an openness to receiving His gifts.

One of the most common ways that God helps us to “lose the mask” is through illness and other hardships. Countless saints, including St. Therese, St. Francis, St. Faustina, St. Padre Pio, and St. Ignatius, all learned through illness. St. Ignatius lost his health in battle and during the long and painful months of recovery, came to the realization that he was not in control. He dropped the masks of wealth and power that he had inherited at his noble birth. It was during this time, that Ignatius wrote his famous prayer of surrender to God, the Suscipe. This prayer represents a total offering of the self to God.

Suscipe

Take, Lord, and receive all my liberty, my memory, my understanding, and my entire will,

All I have and call my own.

You have given all to me.

To you, Lord, I return it.

Everything is yours; do with it what you will.

Give me only your love and your grace, that is enough for me.

The more I pray this prayer, the more I realize how completely counter-cultural it is. The Suscipe represents a return to authenticity and simplicity – a removing of the masks before God. Essentially, what we are saying when we pray it is, “Here I am, Lord. I realize that I am dependent on you for every breath. I offer myself to you totally and completely. I surrender my mask.”

In Latin, “suscipe” means “to receive.” The beautiful paradox is that the more we give to God, the more we ourselves receive.

Perhaps because it presents an opening for God to work in our lives, each day I pray it, I also think of different things I should be handing over to God. I offer whatever is weighing on me and whatever is making me happy that day. As I pray it, I often find concerns that I didn’t even know were there rising to the surface of my consciousness. I hand these things over too.

Praying the Suscipe almost always gives rise to further prayer which, for me, generally goes something like this:

Lord, I give you my joys, sorrows, victories, defeats, pains, consolations, and everything in between. I give you my imperfections.

Lord, please sort it all out. You know what’s best for me. If it is your will, Lord, replace my fears, sorrows, and sufferings, with your love, joy, and peace. Let me not hold onto things that weigh me down but let me hand them over to you. You are my strength in weakness.

Even my dreams and aspirations – you may have better ones for me. Let me not hold too tightly to these. Keep my eyes and ears open to your designs for my life. I am an empty vessel. Fill me with whatever you choose – words, deeds, actions – according to your will, not mine.

Help me to see you at work in my life, Lord. Open my eyes, my ears, my heart to recognize all of the ways in which you are working in my life throughout the day.

Allow me to accept your love.

Allow me to accept the gifts you want to give me.

Allow me to accept the abundance of your gifts.

Allow me to use these gifts you give me in word and deed for those around me too. Work through me in all things for your greater glory.

Praying the Suscipe creates a sacred space in our souls where we ask that “perfect Love” to “cast out all fear”; a place where we allow His mercy and His love to permeate our beings. It is a place where we come to the profound realization that, in the end, and every day in between, He is really our only strength. In our weakness, He does make us strong.

This Lent, give Him your masks. Give Him all the fears that they cover. Be weak in Him and let Him make you strong.

This Lent, open yourself to the Love that He is dying to give you.

The Faith of Abraham

I used to think Abraham was really crazy. I would read the story of Abraham and Isaac and think, “What a crazy guy! Who would do that?”

I was totally missing the point.

My 12 year-old son was recently diagnosed with a heart problem. The doctor said that a heart procedure would be required as soon as possible because if the problem was not addressed, he could die from it at any moment of his life. He explained that the problem with my son’s heart was related to a developmental process that should have happened in utero but didn’t.

On the day of the surgery, the surgical team strapped him to the operating table. They strapped every part of him down: his legs, his torso, his chest, his arms, his hands. He was completely bound to this long, thin table.

I couldn’t help but think of Abraham tying his only, beloved son to the altar of sacrifice. As I looked at my own beloved son, bound to the operating table, I bemoaned the fact that I didn’t have the faith of Abraham.

At that moment, with the clarity of a “Eureka!” moment, I finally understood the story of Abraham and Isaac. I understood why the figure of Abraham is connected with deep, grace-filled faith.

As we walked out of the operating room, leaving our son in the hands of the doctor and his team, I also realized that there was no option but to trust God. I had nurtured and protected my son for twelve-years and now I had absolutely no control over the situation. At this point, everything was completely up to God.

I thought about the fact that the heart problem stemmed from a problem in utero. This brought to mind the Psalm of David:

You formed my inmost being;

you knit me in my mother’s womb.

I praise you, because I am wonderfully made;

wonderful are your works!

My very self you know.

My bones are not hidden from you,

When I was being made in secret,

fashioned in the depths of the earth.

Your eyes saw me unformed;

in your book all are written down;

my days were shaped, before one came to be (Psalm 139).

As the surgery dragged on, twice as long as was anticipated, I thought about these words while the fear welled up in my throat. I meditated on the fact that I didn’t know what the outcome of the surgery would be. In fact, it came to mind, that I really don’t know the outcome of anything at all. In the end, I really am not in control of anything. In the beginning, in the end, and every moment in the middle, I do not know what the outcome of anything will be. I must do my part, but the rest is up to God.

And as I reflected on this, I found great comfort in this psalm. God knew what was going on when my son was in utero. He knew about this heart condition before anyone did. I reflected on the passage, “Your eyes saw me unformed; in your book all are written down; my days were shaped, before one came to be.” God knows how many days my son, and each of us, will have.

That is comforting. It is comforting because it means that we don’t need to control everything. We can completely melt down and He is still “on top of the situation.” We can surrender to God because He has us – all the time – from before we are born, He has us. He’s got us covered.

I silently prayed, “Lord, I don’t know what will happen. But I love you. I praise you. I glorify you. I adore you. I trust you.”

And then, the nurse came out and said that my son was ok. The doctor followed. He said that although the surgery took twice as long as he had expected it would, that he believed he had found the spot and addressed the problem and that it should not be a problem going forward.

If the problem had not been addressed, my son could have died any day at any moment from this condition. If this specific doctor, who specialized in my son’s specific heart problem, had not been in the emergency room at the time that he came in, this problem would not have been detected. Moreover, this heart problem could only be detected on EKG during the rare intermittent episodes when the heart was beating in the irregular way. It happened that it was caught on the EKG while my son was in the ER. Some children who have this condition undetected, require heart transplants. My sons condition was detected and addressed before any of this occurred.

You formed my inmost being; you knit me in my mother’s womb. I praise you, because I am wonderfully made; wonderful are your works! My very self you know.

My thoughts were of Gratitude. Gratitude tested by fire.

A couple of days ago, Jesuit Fr. James Martin wrote, “False religion says that if you believe in God, nothing bad will ever happen, so don’t worry. Real religion says that even if you believe in God, something bad might happen, but there’s no need to worry. In fearful times we tend to forget that God is right there with us, no matter what happens—through our friends, our families, even our doctors—and that God gives us all sorts of resources to deal with our problems and move through them, and if we’re lucky, past them. The key is remembering all this when the fear starts and focusing on the trust instead.”

We all have hardships. Things arise that shock us and scare us and that we can’t plan for – this is life, but every moment is ripe with invitation to trust God more.

Every moment of our lives, every heartbeat, every breath – is a gift. Only God knows how many breaths and how many heartbeats we will have in our lifetime. And, he knows them down to the specific count.

Truly, every moment is an opportunity to surrender to the Love that keeps our hearts beating.

“I praise you, because I am wonderfully made; wonderful are your works!”

Because He Lives ( Amen ) – Matt Maher

Impermeable Love and the Call to Relationship

Have you ever seen two young people who are in love? It sometimes appears that they are in their own little world. Absorbed in their love for each other, they seem unaware of what is happening around them. Their focus is solely on one another. They seem, in this state, to be floating through life.

God’s love for each one of us is like this. St. Thomas Aquinas said, “The soul is like an uninhabited world that comes to life only when God lays His head against us.”

God loves each one of us and focuses on each one of us as if there were only one of us in the world. By human standards of comprehension, this amount of love is completely incomprehensible – especially considering He loves everyone He has created, down through the ages, in this same way.

And, like young lovers in their own little worlds, God’s love is impermeable. Like this love, His love, makes us lighter, burdens fall away.

Unlike the love of young lovers though, His love never waivers. Neither floods, nor war, nor even death can take us from His love.

If we accept it, His love is the only constant – through life or death – for all eternity. When one accepts His love and surrenders in trust to God, His love is impermeable. His love encircles us and guards us.

But we must accept it. St. Augustine said, “Whether we realize it or not, prayer is the encounter of God’s thirst and ours.” It is a two-way relationship. God waits expectantly for us to accept Him and His love.

There really is no better offer – but we must trust Him – and accept the offer.

“God is indeed waiting for you; He asks of you only the courage to go to Him.” – Pope Francis

New Year, New Beginnings

Everywhere I turn, I see articles about cleaning-out and organizing. It’s “out with the old, in with the new,” as the old adage goes.

I recently read a great article by Joshua Becker, an author who promotes “minimalist living” by getting rid of all the “stuff” we don’t really need. In it, he said, “You don’t feel the weight of something you’ve been carrying until you feel the weight of its release.” What truth!

The same process of purging that he promotes for the home, can be effective for the mind and spirit too. How many things do we hold onto that clutter the mind and spirit? How often do we hold onto things spiritually that that hold us back and weigh us down? What would it feel like to live without all this “stuff” – to live freely and unencumbered?

I remember hearing a news story last year about a man in New York who, before Christmas, would open his answering machine to people to anonymously confess things that were bothering them. He said, “People sometimes really just need to get things off their chest and they feel good when they do.” I remember thinking it somewhat odd that a fraction of what the Catholic Church has offered for centuries in the Sacrament of Reconciliation was being featured as a national news story.

Although most people don’t enjoy that “moment of truth” as they step into the confessional, the exit is always a great moment, marked by a complete freeing and unencumbering of the spirit. The beauty of the Sacrament of Reconciliation is that not only can one “get everything off ones’ chest” though, but one can also be assured that God has heard this confession and has given forgiveness. What a beautiful and profound offer!

Yet, even saints, who went to confession frequently, have sometimes forgotten just how much God offers us. Take, for example, St. Faustina. Having believed she had already offered everything to God though her vow of consecration to Christ, she asked in prayer what more she could offer. She was confounded by the response, “My daughter, you have not offered Me that which is really yours.” She continues, “I probed deeply into myself and found that I love God with all the faculties of my soul and, unable to see what it was that I had not yet given to the Lord, I asked, ‘Jesus, tell me what it is, and I will give it to you at once with a generous heart.’ Jesus said to me with kindness, “Daughter, give Me your misery, because it is your exclusive property” (Diary, 1318).

God offers to take not only our sins, but even our misery. He offers to take everything that holds us back and pulls us down. It’s up to us to accept His offer though. “New Year’s” happens only once a year, but every day God offers us a life unencumbered by regrets. He constantly offers us new fullness of life, abundant in grace and blessings. It’s up to us to accept this gift though.

It’s up to us, like St. Faustina, to let go of misery and give it to God. We can place it in His hands or put it at the foot of the cross – either way, now’s the time to clean out. Go to confession. Give Him your sins. Give Him your misery. Give it to God…and let it go.

“Few souls understand what God would effect in them if they should give themselves entirely into His hands and allow his grace to act.” – St. Ignatius of Loyola

Commandments for the New Year

Discipline. Most New Year’s resolutions are all about discipline. We resolve to start working out, to start eating better, to get organized. We are determined to do better, be better.

New Year’s resolutions are widely considered to be good, socially-respected forms of self-determination.

Contrast the word “resolution” with the word “commandment,” however, and you will get a completely different reaction. Many, if not most, people bristle at the word “commandment.” Connotations of the word “commandment” include a lack of self-determination, a passive voice, and a “lording over” – unattractive connotations to most in modern society. Many people today would probably even consider a “commandment” to be something “inflicted upon.”

Indeed, the Latin commandare in the imperative does mean “to command” and does involve an action on a passive subject. Yet, we often miss the finer connotations of the word “command” which also involves an “accountability for.” If you have ever known a military commander, you know that a commander is accountable for those he/she commands. And, not only is the commander accountable for his charges, but he also usually cares deeply for them. Talk to any veteran who has lost a comrade under his charge in war and you will understand the depth of this love, the depth of loss that he feels when he loses the one under his charge.

In the same manner as the loving commander, the Ten Commandments, are commanded by a God who loves His children deeply. If one views them from the perspective of a set of commands “imposed upon,” one might easily consider them to be an unattractive set of rules against which to rebel. Yet, if one considers them from the standpoint of love, the whole picture changes.

Consider any one of the commandments and take the alternative. Take for instance, “Thall shalt not steal.” Consider the possible consequences of stealing – one may go to prison and lose one’s freedom, cause great hardship to another, suffer great guilt, or cause strife. Or, take “Thall shalt not kill” – again, the consequences are hardship, pain, tumult, strife, loss of freedom, and retaliation that leads to strife – all negatives. Nothing good. In fact, the alternative to every single commandment contains hardship and suffering. If we choose not to follow any of these commandments, things become more difficult, less clear, and the end result, is pain.

Through the Ten Commandments, we are invited to freedom from messy and painful consequences. While the Commandments may challenge us and require great discipline, if we follow these rules, we can live in freedom. They liberate us from pain, guilt, hardship, and strife.

The Ten Commandments are an expression of love, expressed by a loving Father who does not want His children to suffer. And, they are the active promise of relationship, a promise of belonging – “I am the Lord your God” – I am your God and you are mine. I, your God, will always love and protect you.

“You shall not take the name of the Lord in vain.” Why? Because our loving Father hears our every word, if we call Him, He is there to help us. We should only call His name when we need His loving care. The Ten Commandments are the loving instructions of Our Father who loves us deeply.

It’s all in one’s perspective – and we are free to decide this perspective. We can consider the Ten Commandments a stifling list of prohibitions or we can embrace the gifts we are offered through them: the offer of love, of belonging, of justice, of peace, of harmony, of respect for human dignity, of protection from pain.

Myself? I will embrace the gifts. This New Year, I resolve to actively and freely trust that my God loves me more than I can fathom. I trust His commands to me because I belong to Him and want to live freely, unencumbered by the pain of the alternatives. And, I pray that He will give me the discipline and grace to keep His commands so that I can live in a state of love for Him and my neighbor. I trust His love and want to live in this love.

“What greater happiness is there than to live entirely in God, since He loves His own, He protects them, guides them, and leads them to eternity.” – Saint Padre Pio