Confessing Who I Really Am

My palms were already sweaty.  I had only been in line for 10 minutes.  All day I had agonized about this moment.  I prayed, searched, reflected and managed to make a meager list.  Surely, I had more sins than these.  What was I leaving out?  The line moved forward.  It is hard to look at the people leaving confession.  Why were they crying?  What was going on in that room?  My mouth was starting to get dry. 

Of all the things I love about the Catholic faith, confession is not one of them.  Now, don’t get me wrong.  Theologically, the sacrament is beautiful.  It is amazing.  And I am fully aware that it is commanded of us by our Lord.  However, it is not easy.  It is somewhat messy. And it turns me into a nervous wreck.  In fact, I feared it so much that I stayed away from the sacrament for a number of years.  So, I know how un-confessed sin can eat away at one’s soul.  The brick walls I built between me and the Lord were thick and cold.  But all it took was one confession, and the bricks started to crumble.  I remember that feeling of freedom as the mercy and love of the Lord washed over me in that confessional.

So, why does getting in this line still create such waves of anxiety?  Why does the idea of saying my sins out loud to a priest send me straight for the Xanax?  I know the consequences of staying out of the line.  And I know the wonderful benefits of staying in the line.  But it doesn’t seem to help me choose the line. 

I could blame it on past experience.  I could blame it on the ministers that were happy to see me leave their church all those years ago.  Maybe that is why I don’t want to trust the Priest with who I really am.  But, I feel like I am past that.  I confronted those demons years ago.  I took those burdensome rocks out of my back pack and I have moved on.  I made peace with the fact that if they didn’t do what they did, I wouldn’t have found the Catholic faith.  My past seems to be my excuse rather than the true issue.  Besides, I now work in the Church.  I work alongside the priests, deacons and other ministry staff and I am perfectly comfortable in their presence.

The line inches forward again and I am now just three people away from the door. I look at my list.  It seems silly and laughable.  I don’t know why I am even here.  I am not good at this.  A child could come up with a better list.  I would like to get out of line and get some water, but there are at least 50 people behind me.  I know I wouldn’t get back in line.  

I didn’t grow up in the Catholic faith.  Maybe that is why this is so difficult for me.  I never had to do this in the Baptist church.  In fact, because we believed that your sins were forgiven when you invited Jesus to live in your heart, sin was never really talked about or focused on.  We never examined our lives for sin but rather tried to live the life of a good Christian.  We focused on making the right choices for that morally upstanding, charitable life and we did not focus on the mistakes we made.  Searching for sin in my soul is a foreign concept.  Even after 14 years of being a confirmed Catholic, I am still epically bad at it.  Why can’t I figure this out?

There is now only one person in front of me.  I feel my heart beating faster.  The adrenaline is reaching atomic levels.  Why do I get so worked up?  Why do I let the anxiety capture me is such a way?  What do I fear?

As I stand here thinking about the reason for the fear, an image of a mirror enters my mind.  Yep, that is what I fear.  I fear that mirror.  I don’t want to see who I really am.  I don’t want to see my soul the way Christ sees it.  In this world, I can hide my sins pretty well.  I can be the person others admire and look up to.  I can act the part eloquently.  But the picture I paint of who I am is not reflected in the mirror.  In order to examine my conscience, I have to take a long look at myself in that mirror. 

I am such a fallen human.  I would make the same choice as Eve.  I would throw the first stone at the adulterous woman.  I would be in the crowd calling for Jesus’ crucifixion.  Why do I know this?  Because I possess the same sin as this crowd- pride.  I don’t want to look in that mirror because of pride.  I am too proud to admit what I have done because it reflects who I really am.  Pride is the root of this anxiety.  Pride keeps me from the confessional.

It’s my turn.  I walk into the dimly lit room like a bull in a china shop.  I almost knock over the plant as I trip and pretty much fall into the chair across from the Priest.  He smiles.  He knows I get myself undone over this experience.  It is a little humorous that a confident woman who enjoys speaking to large groups of teens and adults about the love of Christ can get so undone in this small room with and audience of one. I smile back as we both find humor in the irony.  He knows me well, and the shared smile sets me at ease.

Recently, in prayer experience, I had a vision of myself wearing a black, ugly coat.  I looked horrid. The coat was heavy with dirt, ragged and torn.  I really hated the coat and I wanted to take it off.  I tried and I couldn’t figure it out.  I quickly gave up.  I looked up, and I saw Jesus in all of his splendor walking towards me.  He was radiant and beautiful.  As he got closer, I realized I was still wearing the coat.  I tried again to get it off.  I couldn’t do it.  I started to panic as Jesus approached me.  I wanted to hide, but there was nowhere to go.  Jesus was now standing in front of me.  He lifted me chin so that he could look in my eyes.  I was pulling at the coat, trying to get it off.  I apologized that he had to seem me this way.  I told him I couldn’t get it off and that I was sorry I had let my coat get so horrible.  He smiled and to my amazement, he took the coat off of me.  He threw it on the ground.  Then, he took off his white, spotless coat and put it over my shoulders.  I told him that I couldn’t accept it because I was going to get it dirty.  It was much too nice for me to wear.  He looked in my eyes and said, “If you get it dirty, just come back to me, and I’ll make it clean again.  I love you very much and I want you to look your best when I finally present you to my father.”

As I tell Father all about my pride once again, I can feel the coat coming off.  I can see the sins being washed away.  The coat is becoming beautiful as the day Jesus gave it to me.  Jesus puts it back over my shoulders and Father sends me on my way with a clean coat- a clean soul.  All the anxiety is worth this experience.  It is incredibly awesome to show Jesus who I really am and to hear him say, “It’s alright.  I love you anyway.  Keep trying.  I am making you a beautiful gift for my Father.”  Yep, that is much better than Xanax.

The Great Coffee Fast

“Really, Lord?  Don’t you think the children would be safer if I could have coffee?”

This conversation begins each morning around 9am, the time the last little darling arrives at my home for child care.  By this time in the morning, I’ve usually changed eleventy million dirty diapers, read Dinosaur Roar at least 400 times and built, rebuilt and rebuilt the Island of Sodor because it’s just never quite right according to the 5-year-old train engineer.  Yep, by this point in the morning, my get up and go has gotten up and went far, far away to a distant land flowing with coffee and chocolate, and where dinosaurs and trains never existed.  By this time in the morning, my craving for coffee is profound.

For Christmas, my parents got us one of those new fancy coffee machines- the Keurig.  It makes GREAT coffee at the touch of a button.  It’s like magic.  You turn it on, put your k-cup in, put your mug underneath and press the button.  Then the most wonderful aroma fills the room as the hot, steamy, caffeinated liquid fills my cup of joy all the way to the brim.  I LOVE it.  I even find it a little sexy. 

And now we come to my Lenten fast.  Except for the year I gave up facebook for Lent, I usually give up three things: coffee, chocolate and alcohol.  I give up not one, but three things because I am an over achiever.  I have an A-type personality and my perfectionism is border line obsessive-compulsive.  Besides, I am an adult and an adult should be able to give up silly things like chocolate and wine.  Well, each year when I gave up these three things, I failed in an epic manner.  By the end of the first week, you could find me in the fetal position on the bathroom floor surrounded by candy wrappers or desperately hiding in the laundry room at 7 in the morning with my elicit cup of joy, I mean coffee.  “Maybe if my husband doesn’t catch me,” I rationalize, “then I haven’t really failed.”  Ha!  And it’s no wonder I fail, because let’s face it- this sleep deprived mama and wife with two jobs is attempting to give up three of the four major food groups. 

So, this year, I decided not to set myself up for failure.  This year, I decided to seek God’s will for my Lenten fast.  Surely, he would have a better idea than me.  I mean, he is God of the universe, omnipotent and all that fun stuff.  Anyhow, I made this decision while sitting at the kitchen table, and as soon as the thought entered my head to let God tell me what to give up, my eyes fell on the Keurig.  It was as if a ray of sunshine fell on it, giving the heavenly machine a divine glow while angels sang their hallelujah chorus marking the significant moment with awe and wonder.  My heart sank.  “Really?  Really, God?  Are you sure?  Because, I thought that when I prayed to figure out what your will was, I thought for sure you understood I was ABANDONING my ideas, I mean, my will, and therefore I could have coffee, chocolate and alcohol during this Lenten season!  I thought that was the plan!”  And then I heard the voice in my heart say, “but I am only asking for one- not all three.  Let’s focus on just one sacrifice.”

I felt like such a child.  In the back of my head, I thought that maybe God would give me a grown up task.  I read all these Lenten articles about what adults should do for lent in order to grow closer to God.  My ideas of giving up something like chocolate seemed childish.  And yet, I fail at it- EVERY YEAR!  So, here God was bringing me back to square one.  Here is he was showing me exactly what was best for me- 40 days with no coffee.  I wonder if he is absolutely sure that is what’s best for everyone around me. 

It’s been 17 days since I’ve had coffee.  Now, I take that back.  I did have coffee at a friend’s house last Saturday night, but my friend’s Dad, who happens to be a famous Catholic theologian, explained to me that since it was after sun down on Saturday, we weren’t technically in Lent and that I could have coffee.  Since he’s a famous Catholic theologian and I was at his house, I decided to go with it.  Anyhow, it’s been 17 mornings since I’ve had coffee.  And for someone who’s often up late working and then up early with kids, this is a true test of my will power and endurance.  Exhaustion has a whole new meaning.  In these 17 days, I’ve learned about myself and the benefits of fasting. 

The first lesson I’ve learned about is desire.  When we fast in this nature, we physically withhold something our bodies need and that creates a physical desire.  That physical desire mirrors the spiritual desire our souls have for God.  In this secular world, we can easily choose to ignore those spiritual longings- but physical longings are harder to ignore and they can remind us of how much our souls long for God.  My experience with this physical longing was most clearly played out on Ash Wednesday.  Not only did I give up coffee cold turkey, but the only thing I had to eat all day was bread.  I was determined not to eat a real meal until after I received Jesus in the Eucharist.  By the time 7:00 pm rolled around, I had a headache the size of Texas and I was beyond hunger.  When the Priest held up the host for consecration, my mouth was watering.  That was when I realized that this is what my soul experiences at every Mass.  My physical hunger was but a shadow of my spiritual hunger.  When I received Jesus in this physical state, it felt as if every cell in my body was nourished.  God used my body to show me what my soul experiences when I receive Jesus in the Eucharist.  Now, that was awesome.

The second lesson is all about waiting.  When we fast during Lent, we are waiting for the day when we can end the fast.  That is right, I have about 30 more days until I can fire up the Keurig!  Now, I realize that I could fire it up on Sundays, but remember, I’m an over achiever.  Combine that with the perfectionism and catholic guilt, and you have woman who cannot touch the Keurig until Easter morning.  So, I’m learning about waiting.  And I don’t know about you, but I HATE waiting.  I don’t like waiting in lines, sitting in traffic or even being on hold on the telephone.  When I’m waiting, I am thinking about all the other things I could be doing with my time and it drives me bananas. But when we are waiting, we are forced to be still and it’s in those still moments that God can seek us out.  In my professional life, I am in a place that requires me to wait.  I am not sure where I am supposed to go next but there is nothing I can do but wait it out.  I have been frustrated by this IMMENCELY.  I want to know what the future holds, but I can’t.  I must wait.  This fast has taught me that in order to get through the waiting, I must be still and listen for God.  I must seek Him instead of formulating all the possible scenarios of my professional future.  I must anticipate God’s presence in my life as much as I anticipate that steamy cup of caffeinated perfection on Easter morning.

Finally, this particular Lenten fast has taught me that it is important to take one thing at a time.  Instead of tackling the Lenten fast with multiple sacrifices that lead to fasting failure, God wants me to pick one thing and be successful.  This is enlightening because I am the queen of multitasking.  Now, don’t get me wrong, multitasking is essential to motherhood.  If I didn’t have this gift, my children would be running around with dirty underwear and only one good meal in their tummies.  But there are some things in life that deserve our full, undivided attention.  This year, my attention has been divided.  I have had a lot of irons in the fire.  I am realizing that some of these irons need more of my attention and the only way to make that happen is to take some of the irons out of the fire.  I can’t do it all.  I can’t work 12-15 hours a day and still be the mother and wife this family needs.  There doesn’t seem to be enough of me to stretch between the two jobs I love.  At this moment, I know I am right where God wants me.  However, I think He is preparing me for some tough choices in the future.  I must admit that giving my full and undivided attention to giving up coffee has felt a little good.  It is nice to only have one sacrifice to juggle instead of three.

So, what is the best way to go about fasting?  One day at a time.  Every morning I look at the Keurig and let the devil on my shoulder tell me how stupid this fast is.  I let him call me childish.  I let him try to convince me that giving up coffee is more trouble than it’s worth.  But my heart knows it is worth the trouble.  Although I thought I needed a 12 step program in the first week, I have been able to stick to it.  And after just 17 days, I have gained more understanding about fasting and myself than I ever thought I would.  The coffee will return at Easter.  On that day I will raise my beautiful cup of caffeinated perfection in celebration to the God who gave up more than coffee for me.  Maybe as this fast continues to progress, I can gain a little more understanding of that love- a love that drove the God of the universe to die a terrible death to gain the soul of this sinner.

Where Do Catholics Party?

I have never been very interested in politics.  Maybe it was because I grew up in a place where the politicians were a joke.  When I first moved to Louisiana, the race for governor consisted of an ex-klu-klux-klan member and a convicted felon.  When I moved to Texas, I found the politicians are not as corrupt, but they are just as wishy-washy.  They say what you want to hear so they may keep their elected positions.  So, out of disgust for the politicians and the process that turns them into what they are, I’ve stayed away from politics.  And that worked out just fine because government mostly stayed out of my business- until recently.

I am seriously concerned about the new HHS mandate put in place by the Obama administration requiring all health plans to include preventative reproductive health services- including those of religious organizations that find such plans morally objectionable.  SERIOUSLY concerned.  Since when does the government have the authority to tell a church they have to provide morally objectionable services to their employees and the people who CHOOSE to seek the church’s services?  Since when does the government have the authority to impose their moral code on a religious entity?  Yes, this mandate has me seriously concerned because the government is now stripping away my rights to freely practice my religion- a right guaranteed in the constitution.

So, I find myself in unchartered waters.  Here I am a Catholic plucked right down in the middle of a political firestorm.  Where do I go?  With whom do I identify myself?  That is the million dollar question.  I can’t be a Democrat because their party supports pro-choice issues, but I can’t be a Republican because they support the death penalty.  I can’t be Democrat because they are too socialist, but I can’t be a Republican because they favor run away capitalism.  Both parties have their non-negotiable evils and, therefore, I can’t find a place in either one.  One thing that frustrates me is where the other Catholics stand.  There are Catholics in both parties.  Some of the Democratic Catholics openly reject the Church’s teachings on issues like contraception and abortion while some of the Republican Catholics what to cut social services in an effort to lower taxes for wealthy citizens.  I just don’t get it.  How can one be Catholic but not call the truths of the faith their own?  When did Catholicism become a cafeteria plan to those in the political arena?

I think this issue of picking and choosing what one wants to believe is an American Christian phenomenon.  People in our country relish their freedom. They taut it. They covet it. And they have applied it to every aspect of their lives- including their practice of religion. They are free to choose what they want to believe. And, in light of the rights outlined in our constitution, they are free to do exactly that. But as a Christian, they are not. The Church doesn’t call her teachings beliefs but rather truths.  The truths of the Catholic faith are TRUE- like the sky is blue.  Beliefs are not truths.  There is a distinction.  As Catholics, we are asked to embrace all the truths of the faith. Now, I understand that is a tall order.  For me, the journey to conversion was a process.  It did not happen overnight.    But if we truly love Christ, then we will be on that journey. I think some get stuck and distracted and accept the world's standards over the higher standards of God. What they fail to realize is how those choices separate them from God. They are missing out on the intimate relationship Christ designed to have with us when they pick and choose which truths they are comfortable with rather than abandoning themselves (and their coveted freedom) to all the truths Christ gave us. Christ gave us his life to give us these truths. We must do the same if we seek to have this intimate relationship with Him.

So, what is a newbie political Catholic girl to do?  I can’t compromise my position on the truths of the Church.  Also, I can’t stand idly by and let the government impose their moral standard on my Church.  It seems as if I am all dressed up but have no party to go to.

On Being King- Not Just a Princess

We all know that Jesus is Priest, Prophet and King.  Right?  And we all know that through our baptism we share in the life of Christ.  Right?  So, we are Priests, Prophets and Kings.  Right?  Wait.  What?  Run that by me again!?!

That was my reaction when I looked at the retreat we were giving to our adult volunteers in our youth program.  I always understood that Christ is Priest, Prophet and King.  I always understood that I share in his life through baptism into the Body of Christ.  But I never connected those dots.  I didn’t realize that I share in these specific roles as Priest, Prophet and King.

Priest isn’t a hard one for me.  Although I am not a man and I am not called to a consecrated religious vocation, I can see how I share in this role, especially as a youth minister, and mother.  At Baptism and confirmation, we are anointed as Priests and given the Holy Spirit who lives in us and commissions us to bring about the kingdom of God.  As Priests, we are called to sacrifice for the good of others so that Christ may live through us.  We are called to consecrate the world to God.  My world is my kids and my community.  So, that is what I do- sacrifice for them, invite them to Christ’s Kingdom, and consecrate them to God.  I don’t do it perfectly all the time, but I’m doing it.  This role is one I think I fall into naturally and comfortably.

The role of prophet is one that I have only embraced recently.  You see, I struggle with the idea that God actually reveals things to me.  I mean, who am I in the grand scheme of creation?  I am just a grain of sand in the ocean or a wave tossed in the sea(shout out to Casting Crowns!).  In fact, my grain is rather rough around the edges and imperfect to say the least.  There are many, many greater, more educated and altogether more worthy grains out there that God can speak to and through.  Who am I to think that he would choose me?  It is a grand mystery that I struggle to understand.  But even as I write this, God is making the mystery a little less puzzling.  You see, I said yes.  And that is all it takes- a willing and open heart.  He asked me to dance, and I said yes.  And so we dance.  And he whispers His truth in my heart and sets me on fire.  And then he brings the people he wants to touch into my life to watch me burn.  Sometimes, I really go down in flames and other times, I feel like water gets thrown on me.  Either way, I know I have been blessed with the Holy Spirit’s gift of fortitude because I don’t think I could embrace the role of prophet without it.

Now let’s talk about Kings.  When I think about a King, I think about someone with political power, monetary wealth and worldly prestige.  Now, I know that our Lord is a different kind of King whose kingship is not defined by the world’s standards.  Nevertheless, I do not consider myself worthy of that title.  Maybe I am part of the king’s court, or even a princess.  But king?  No.  My Lord is the King.  He is the one who died on the cross.  He is the one who paid the ransom for my sin.  He is the one (and only one) worthy of that title.  So, to say that I share in Christ’s kingship is rather perplexing and has really challenged me to put on my thinking cap this week.  I think the reason I seem to be having such a hard time with this concept is due to the fact that I really hadn’t thought about what Christ’s kingship really is.  The kingship Christ defines is much different than the royal role I imagine.  You see, Christ gained power through love.  As king, he completely gave himself to his people through his death on the cross.  He defeated death with love and he did it so that we may live and truly be God’s people on this earth and into eternity.   When we are baptized and participate in the sacraments, we share in his life, receive his grace and remain in his love.  As his people, he asks us to be kings.  He asks us to share in that love that drives one to such a sacrifice.  He asks us to completely empty ourselves and abandon our will to His.  When we live this way, we live as kings; not kings who take power and wealth, but kings who love and sacrifice for the good of others.  We are kings when our own lives are abandoned out of love for the kingdom.

As Christians, we are called to take on these roles.  We are the body of Christ.  We are the children of God.  When we live these roles, we bring Christ’s light to this dark world.  We are the candles while he is the flame.  Now, I don’t know about you, but these roles seem rather daunting.  All this talk of consecration, prophesy, and sacrifice of my life sends my flawed humanity straight to fear.  But, I have to say, that I prefer that fear over a life distanced from Christ.  I have lived that life and it is not a bed of roses.  In that life, there is no joy.  There is no fire.  There is no peace.  When I embrace Christ’s life- the life He gave me through baptism as priest, prophet and king, love fuels my soul, joy is over flowingly abundant and I have the peace surpasses all understanding.  I am living the life God created me to live.

“As Jesus, in his abandonment before death, delivered himself into the hands of the invisible and incomprehensible God, the soul must do likewise—casting herself headlong into the pitch darkness of faith, the only way to the incomprehensible God.”                    -St. Edith Stein

Surviving Christmas

As a “good” Catholic mom, I should be writing a post about the true meaning of Christmas.  I should be writing about how I am teaching my children about giving rather than taking.  I should write about spending more time praying than shopping.  I should write about growing in faith rather than growing in debt.  However, I would be misleading you.  As usual, I am an anxiety-filled shell of a woman hunkering down in her Christmas cluttered home, furiously wrapping countless presents from another budget-busting Christmas shopping disaster while yelling at her sugar hyped-up children as they fight over God knows what.  Yep, I’m a mess.  And the fact that I am such a mess in a season where I should be preparing for our Lord makes it that much worse. 

Although I love my fellow Catholic bloggers, I cannot STAND to read their “true meaning of Christmas” ramblings.  Yes, I know the true meaning of Christmas.  I know that it is a season of giving and finding joy and peace in that giving.  I know it is a season of preparing to welcome our Lord into this world.  But, I am convinced that these people who give us this wealth of information and Christmas season advice either don’t have children and families or are heavily medicated.  Here, in this day and age, Christmas has taken over EVERYTHING- from the coffee at Starbucks to the music in the dentist’s office.  And although it is great that such a large number of people in our society celebrate this season, Christmas has become something bigger than we can contain or control.  Christmas is that bull no cowboy hopes to draw.  All you can do is get on and pray you make it to the 25^th.

As I was driving today in the lovely holiday traffic trying not to call the person who nearly took out my front end a word I did not want my four year old to repeat, I was thinking about how hard it is to find balance in this season.  We are called to be in the world but not of the world.  How do we do that during Christmas?  How do I not let the anxiety of shopping in an over-crowed mall get the best of me?  How do I figure out which social events to attend and which to pass up in favor of family time?  How do I teach my kids that the exciting part of Christmas is the arrival of Jesus and not Santa?  How do I live in the Christmas season but not be of the Christmas season?  Every year, I struggle with these questions.  And every year, I say, I’m going to do A, B and C next year.  But, guess what!  It rarely happens.  There are so many factors I cannot control.  There just doesn’t seem to be enough time in the day, money in the bank and patience in my being.  The world’s Christmas gets the best of me every year and reading about how everyone else has it all figured out makes my inabilities that much more depressing. 

But I have to remember that feeling when Christmas finally arrives.  I can finally get off the bull and dust myself off.  I've made it.  We open the champagne and give the kids their presents, which assure us some peace and quiet for at least the rest of the morning.  And in that time, I can finally relax.  There are no more presents to wrap.  There are no more Christmas programs to plan or attend.  There are no more cards to send out.  There are no more cookies to bake.  All that is left to do is go to Mass and be with our Lord.  And that is grand.

But on a day like today (one where I worked a full and challenging day and then braved the holiday crowds with my spoiled, cranky children), all I want to do is spend the next 24 hours in the total silence of the adoration chapel.  And while I am in there listening to the sweet nothings He whispers to my heart, I want time to stop.  And elves to address and mail my Christmas cards, decorate the outside of my house, finish my shopping under budget, wrap all the presents, bake the Christmas cookies, clean my house and make a week’s worth of meals.  They can also do all the things I forgot to put on this list because my brain is Christmas-fried.  Now, that would be REALLY grand.

Firing a Coach and Defrocking the Priests

I find the situation at Penn State to just be sad.  It is sad all around.  The child abuse that took place at the school is sad.  The fact that the school created an environment that allowed the abuser to continue to victimize children is sad.  The fact that the people that knew what happened- from the janitor to the school President and chose to ignore the abuse is sad.  And the protests that are now occurring over the fallout from this terrible situation are sad. 

I think that the public reaction to the firing of the beloved JoePa at Penn State is quite interesting.  This man turned a blind eye to the sexual abuse of children that occurred in his program- in his locker room.  Sure, he alerted his superiors, but he did not seek to stop the abuse.  And that is wrong.  More children were harmed because of his inaction.  He valued his friendship with the abuser more than the safety of children.  And yes, there must be consequences to his poor decision.  I understand that he has given so much of his talent and life to Penn State, but, nevertheless, his terrible lapse in judgment that perpetuated this situation needs to be addressed.  I think the trustees are justified in removing him from his position.  But the public seems to disagree.  Many think he should keep his job.  Many think the trustees are being too harsh.  Many don’t understand why the coach’s misjudgment has cost him his storied career.

This situation reminds me of another child sex abuse scandal that has a much different reaction from the public.  The Catholic Church has been rocked by this very situation.  There have been Priests who have taken advantage of their trusted positions and committed similar crimes.  Like the volunteer coach at Penn State, there have been Priests who have sexually assaulted children.  And in some of those cases, their superiors did not do enough to stop it.  They did not do enough to protect future victims.  When the public got wind of these crimes, they were outraged.  They wanted some one’s head on a platter.  The fall out has included not only the justified removal and prosecution of the abusive Priests, but also the resignation of many top level church leaders such as Cardinal Law of the Archdiocese of Boston.  But some think that this is not enough.  Some think that the Pope should pay for these crimes.  Some want his head on a platter.  Now, don’t get me wrong.  I am not trying to belittle the public’s outrage in their reaction to this terrible crime.  I think they should be mad.  I think this reaction is justified.  I disagree with people who paint all Priests with the sex abuser brush, but I do think that the public is justified in their anger.  And good things have come from this situation for the Church.  Thanks to this scandal, the Safe Environment programs developed by dioceses have never been more comprehensive.  The children and vulnerable adults the Catholic Church serves have never been safer.

So, my question is, how is the situation at Penn State different that the situation in the Catholic Church? I know that at Penn state we are just talking about one abuser and there were many more than one in the much larger community of the world-wide Catholic Church over a longer period of time.  But the crime is the same.  In both cases, the abuser was allowed to continue to victimize due to the negligence of his superiors.  So why does a football coach get a reprieve from the public while all Catholic Priests must wear a scarlet A?  Why does a football coach’s justified firing anger the same public that wants the pope’s head on a platter?  I don’t get it.

Men: Step Up and Surrender

I went to a ministry conference last weekend and I learned something rather profound.  Men are created in the image of God.  And God made women to be the perfect companions for men.  So, since men are created in the image of God that makes women the perfect companions for God.  I never realized that.  Logically, that makes perfect sense.  And it explains a lot concerning the spirituality of men and women.

In my experience, I've noticed that men seem to have a harder time with spirituality.  It doesn’t come naturally to them.  They have a hard time surrendering to a God they can’t see with their eyes and touch with their hands.  They have a hard time trusting in their faith and defining themselves by that faith.  I think some men see it as a sign of weakness.  Men are made to provide and protect.  They have a hard time admitting that they need to be provided for and protected.  The walls a man must tear down in his heart in order to embrace Jesus as his Lord and Savior are tall and thick.

Women, on the other hand, are made for God.  And that would explain why more women are in the pews.  More women are at prayer groups.  More women are enrolled in bible studies.  Women have an easier time finding God in everything around them.  They have an easier time in prayer.  They have an easier time with surrender.  In fact, I always thought it brilliant that God designated men to lead the church.  Because if the church was led by women, then men would be lost.  They would not be drawn into the Church if there were no male leaders to serve as role models.

This morning, on Facebook, I asked my friends what I should write about for today’s column.  Yep.  That’s right.  I had nothing planned.  ‘Tis the life of a procrastinator.  Anyhow, one of my friends suggested that I write about how the importance of the father’s role as spiritual leader of the family.  This is a topic I have been thinking about since the conference and then last week, our adult cluster group engaged in this very discussion.  Yes, indeed.  Men need to be the spiritual leaders of the family.  But why?  Why is important that they fill a role their wives seem to fit more naturally?

Have you ever prayed with a group of men?  I mean really prayed.  Like on your knees, face to God, heart and soul poured out on the altar prayed with a group of men.  It is pretty awesome.  I have had this experience at our Holy Spirit prayer group which is a charismatic prayer group in our parish.  I don’t think you have really experienced prayer until you have prayed with a group like this.  And our group has several core members who are men. They make it AWESOME.  I don’t know why but they do.  And then there was the time I visited my parent’s Baptist church.  All the men came to the front of the church, got on their knees and prayed.  They prayed hard for rain.  I thought for sure that it would be raining when we left their church service.  Indeed, there is something remarkable about the prayer of men. 

In the family, the most natural role for the man is provider and protector.  I am not saying that women can not provide or protect, but I think men feel more comfortable filling that role.  Therefore, it is pretty remarkable when the man looks to God to be his provider and protector.  That makes an impression upon the rest of the family.  If my Daddy, who provides the family’s income and is trusted with the family’s well-being, can give up that control to God, then I can trust God too.  I can believe in the God my Father depends upon.  A father’s faith in God sends a strong message to the family.

So, I challenge the men to stand up and be men.  Be an example of one who lives a faith-filled life.  Show your wife and your children what it means to love God.  Show them how to surrender their very lives to the God who surrendered his life to us.  It will not be easy.  You are not made to surrender.  The walls you must tear down are tall and strong.  But your family needs you to do it.  They need you to lead them to the Lord.  Your wife is God’s perfect companion which makes you, who is made in the image of God, her perfect companion.  But you can’t be the man she needs you to be unless you allow God into your life.  Surrender those walls.  Pray with your family.  Show your children how to trust God.  You are the person that will bring them to Christ.