Fear and Joy

The school year has started and so have the faith formation programs.  I coordinate the middle school program at my parish.  I recently took a class on prayer and sacraments for this job.  In this class, we did a lot of praying and sharing about our past prayer experiences.  And that got me thinking about how I got myself all wrapped up in this youth ministry thing.  Yep, it all started with a prayer and I have ended up in a place I never dreamt I would be.

I went on a retreat called Christ Renews His Parish (CRHP).  Great retreat!  If you every have such an opportunity, do not pass it up.  Anyhow, when you go to this retreat, you have the option of being on the team that gives the next CRHP retreat.  And that is where I was.  I was the CRHP weekend coordinator and therefore, I had one of the grave yard shifts for adoration.  But this isn’t probably where I should start.  You would benefit from a little back ground information.

I didn’t grow up in the Catholic Church.  I was raised in the Southern Baptist Church where I was very involved throughout my teenage years.  The church was my second home and my peers and youth ministers were my second family.  Then, my junior year rolled around.  I started asking questions and really challenging the theology of the Baptist church (which is a completely normal thing for a teen to do).  I asked a lot of questions and engaged the youth minister in a few heated debates.  That is when the distancing began and I started slowly walking away.  By the end of my senior year, the adults at the church were done with me as I was done with the Baptist church.  And when I finally left, they didn’t call me to make sure this is what I wanted.  I sent a letter asking to be removed from membership and that was it.  The girl who sang in the choir, sat on the youth council and even lead music in worship services was leaving the church and they didn’t see the need to talk me out of it.  I had to conclude they were happy to see the debater go.  They were tired of their theology being challenged on a weekly basis by a know-it-all teenager.  Imagine that.

So, I carried this hurt around for years.  I never really dealt with it because I concluded it was God’s plan.  God wanted me to experience the fullness of the Catholic faith and made sure all ties were cut from my childhood church.  But after many years of avoiding participation in a community beyond showing up for Mass every once in a while, I had to come face to face with it at CRHP.  If I was going to embrace a community at this retreat, something I desperately needed to do for my own sanity and spiritual growth, then I needed to face the fear of why I wanted to run away.  I had to look at my brokenness and find forgiveness in my heart for the adults who betrayed it.  I was in the middle of this process when I found myself alone with the Blessed Sacrament in the middle of the night.

I was praying for the next step.  I was asking God what he wanted me to do.  Where did he want me to serve?  I was at the end of the CRHP formation process and soon the weekend that my team was facilitating would be over.  Now that I was investing in the community once again, where should I serve and what should I do?  Youth ministry was always something I thought I would never do because of my past and the fact I wasn’t raised in the church.  Not only did I have a falling out with my youth minister that led me to leave my childhood church, but as a convert, I felt like I didn’t know enough about the Catholic faith to teach youth.   Nope, I was too broken and inexperienced for youth ministry and anyplace else seemed like a better fit.  But that is not what the Lord thought.

There I was before the Blessed Sacrament.  I had left my career as a middle school band director the year before and I felt like I was in the position to really lay down my life.  I wasn’t tied to anything professionally.  Serving the Lord was my greatest desire and I was filled with great joy to surrender myself so recklessly.  And that is where I was.  I was surrendering and experiencing this joy when the Lord hit me with a ton of bricks.  He said, “I want you to work in middle school youth ministry.”  All of a sudden, I couldn’t quite catch my breath and I started shaking.  “Really, Lord?  Seriously?”  And, like a paper doll under a ton of bricks, I crumbled.  I started in with the litany of why that wasn’t going to work and how I wasn’t fit for the job.  But He didn’t stop asking.  He wanted me to trust Him because He knew me better than I know myself.  He knew the wounds I carried around, wounds that left lasting scars, and yet he still wanted me to serve in this capacity. He could see something I couldn’t.  So, I surrendered.  And luckily, I pulled myself together just in time for the next holy hour shift to begin and in walks the middle school youth minister.  “Really, Lord?  Seriously?”

I spent the next two years as a volunteer on the core team for the middle school faith formation program.  During holy week of my second year on the team, I felt the Lord calling me again.  My youngest son was just one year away from Kindergarten which meant I needed to figure out what I wanted to do when I grew up.  Was I going back to teaching or was did I want to change careers?  By this time, I had some experience in youth ministry and I really enjoyed it.  Despite my past experience and my convert status, I fit in well with the youth.  It seemed like the perfect place for me to volunteer.  Actually getting a paying job in the field didn’t seem feasible since I didn’t have the correct degrees and let us not forget that I am not a cradle Catholic.  Anyhow, I remember it so clearly.  Our pastor was preaching on Easter morning and in his homily, he challenged us to participate in the resurrected life of Christ.  In order to do that, we needed to die to ourselves and surrender our lives as Christ did.  And that is when the Lord whispered to me that he wanted me to surrender once again and do the youth ministry thing for real.  Again, ton of bricks, but this time there was an unexplained joy behind them.  I trusted Him so recklessly the first time around and things turned out great.  So, why not?  If it was the Lord’s will, then I would get a job.  If not, then I would continue to volunteer.  It seemed like a win-win situation.

That week, I asked my friend, the middle school youth minister how one would go about seeking a job in youth ministry.  At this time, our youth ministry staff was undergoing some change and little did I know, the parish leadership was restructuring the program.  My friend, the middle school youth minister was discerning if she should step into the newly created Youth Director position.  If she did, who would step into her role?  Who would run the program she poured her heart and soul into for these past few years?  My name popped into her head and later that week, my email popped into her inbox.  Yes, my friends, that is the Holy Spirit at work.  Long story short, here I am in my second year filled with joy doing what the Lord has called me to do.  And in this service, a healing has taken place.  I’m more whole, more complete.  The lasting scars have faded.  Five years ago, if you had told me I would be working in youth ministry, I would have stepped outside to see the flying pigs.  Never did I imagine that this is where I would be.  Never did I imagine I would find such joy in serving the Lord in the one place I most feared.

So, be not afraid.  “Trust in the Lord with all your heart.” (Proverbs 3:5).  Because, “I know well the plans I have in mind for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare, not for your woe!  Plans to give you a future full of hope.” (Jeremiah 29:11)  And when we trust and place our hope in the Lord, we “will soar as with eagles’ wings; [we] will run and not grow weary, walk and not grow faint.” (Isaiah 41:31)

All glory be to the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. As it was in the beginning, is now and ever shall be, world without end.  Amen.

The Love of a Show

My little son hates Mass.  His 5 year old body and brain just cannot understand why we go to church to sit still and pray.  “Praying is soooooo boring!” he very audibly announces every time we walk in the church.  He is also master of the how-many-songs-are-left-before-it’s-over countdown.   He happily broadcasts it live during Mass every week just in case you care to catch it.  As you can imagine, this isn’t reflecting well on me, a youth minister at the church.  Trying to keep his dislike of Mass under wraps is like trying to hold back frenzied bargain shoppers on the day after Christmas sale.  My only solace is to find another family with loud kids and sit behind them. 

So, when the Feast of the Assumption rolled around, and we were going to attend Mass in the middle of the week (gasp!), I decided to give my youngest some warning to ease the blow as much as possible.  I explained to him that we were going to a very special Mass at church because we were going to celebrate Mary’s assumption into heaven.  Then, I explained that Mary was so special that she didn’t die like people normally do, but instead, God took her straight to heaven.  To my surprise, he seemed genuinely interested in this story.  For the rest of the day, he asked me at least once an hour when we were going to Mass.  He actually WANTED TO GO TO MASS.  I was floored.  This was a miracle, indeed.

When we arrived to church, he did not go through his usual litany of complaints.  He sat down without whining.  And he seemed really interested in watching what was happening on the altar.  I was beside myself.  Who was this child and what did he do with my son?  All this paying attention and not complaining lasted for about 30 minutes and then he announced he had to go to the bathroom.  So, we went.  When we were waiting to go back into the sanctuary, he looked up at me and said, “Mommy, when do we get to see Mary go to heaven?”  So, that was it.  He was here to see something miraculous.  Watching Mary go to heaven peaked his interest just enough for him to set aside his disdain for Mass and watch the show.

How often do we do the same?  How often do we expect God to put on a show for our benefit?  How often do we find ourselves discouraged when the show we expect doesn’t materialize?  I know I’m guilty.

God desires our love like our bodies desire oxygen.  He desperately wants us to participate in the love of the trinity.  In order to fully participate, we have to choose it.  We have to desire Him as he desires us.  And, if you look back at salvation history and the passion of Christ, you see how desperately God desires us.  He knew from the beginning, before he created, that we would betray him.  He knew he would take on our humanity, enter into history as a vulnerable baby, teach us about his love and then show us how much he loves by giving us his life- his perfect, unstained humanity- so that we may be reunited with him and participate in the love of the trinity for eternity.  But we have to choose it.  We have to want to love God as he loves us.  And we have to choose it without tangible, obvious miracles that unequivocally prove the existence of God- miracles whose sole purpose is to prove the existence of God.  No, we have to choose to love God out of faith.  Then and only then, do we participate in the agape love found in the trinity.

Now, don’t get me wrong, miracles do come into play.  Once we are in that personal relationship with God and we desire His love and presence more than we desire our own lives, he opens our eyes to the miracles.  We begin to see God in the little things- in the beauty of a sunset or the complexity of the human body.  We see him working in the lives of those around us and moving in the difficult situations we face.  We feel his warmth and peace in the moments when stress threatens to overwhelm us.  You see, when we love God as he loves us, then our eyes are opened to His reality and our lives find meaning and purpose.

So, love God recklessly.  Don’t get caught up in the desire for a show.  We are not made for this world.  We are made to love and be loved for eternity.

Fires, Valleys and Ministry

Well, I have survived my first year of working in ministry.  I wish I could tell you it was all hearts and rainbows, but no.  It has been tough.  Some of the challenges I expected, but there were others I did not expect.  And the toll the challenges have taken on my own spirituality have been greater than I was prepared to face.  But I got through it, and I learned a lot about myself, God and His infinite mercy.

Working in ministry is like fighting on the front lines.  People are not afraid to tell you exactly what they think- whether that be about the Catholic Church in general, or your own style of teaching, prayer or presentation.  People are not afraid to tell you how you should be spending your time or what you should be doing to nourish your own relationship with God.  It is like I have a bull’s-eye for all comments, criticisms, and suggestions on my forehead.  And although I welcome such interaction, it can be exhausting to say the least.  I miss that I can no longer just blend in the background.  Nope, I always have to be on the front line with a smile on my face.  Although I expected the front line was hard, I didn’t expect the toll it would take on me.  Had I not been surrounded by people who could help me filter out the good from the bad, who could help me figure out the useful criticism from the not so useful, I fear I would not have made it this far. 

Being on the front line has ushered me into a whole new level of humility.  You see, I am a performer.  I am a trained classical musician.  As a musician, I live in a world where I perform and then people tell me how great it is and then my teachers would tell me what I could do better.  I carried these expectations into my career as a Band Director where the world was very similar.  And, when I started in youth ministry, which is a lot like teaching, I subconsciously carried these expectations into the world of ministry.  These expectations do not work in this world.  Ministry is not about the instant gratification the stage naturally gives.  It’s more like gardening.  Instead of performing on a stage, I am the instrument by which the Holy Spirit plants seeds, waters the seeds, fertilizes the seeds, and makes sure they get enough sun.  And unlike the stage, I do not have complete control over the garden.  I don’t know what happens to the seeds from week to week.  I only know what I do with them on Wednesday night and I rarely see the seeds grow and bear fruit.  Both the losses of control and instant gratification made me very uneasy and I had a hard time figuring out why I was struggling.  But then one day I realized the true issue.  When I am on the stage, it is all about me.  When I am in the garden, it isn’t about me at all- it’s about Christ and the seeds. I didn’t realize how much self-worth I had wrapped up in the stage, how much of my identity was defined by the stage.  My brain knew that it wasn’t about me, but my ego didn’t come to realize it until much later in the game.  In order to stay on the front lines, I had to let go of who I thought I was and face who I really am.  And that was quite humbling.  In fact, it still is.

I often think that my relationship with God is like a moth to a flame.  He is a roaring bonfire and I am the tiniest insect drawn to the beautiful light from the depths of the dark forest.  For reasons I can’t explain, I am drawn to God and mesmerized by His presence.  Like many people, my relationship with God is marked by mountain tops and valleys.  On the mountain tops, I don’t care if the fire burns me.  I am happy to lose myself in the fire.  I am happy to let the fire consume me.  But in the valley, I am suddenly aware of the fire’s heat, and I feel like I just need to take a step back and gaze from a distance.  Even though I get cold and long to be close to the fire, I can’t go there.  The fire is too much for me to bear.  The dark forest is quite inviting.

In this humbling first year of ministry, I have spent a lot of time in the valley.  So much so, that I fear I will never find the mountains.  And the guilt I have in the valley is great.  In my humiliating moments, I should be running to God and seeking his comfort.  I should be practicing what I preach.  Instead, I have withdrawn and hidden myself.  I am ashamed of who I really am now that the stage is gone and I wonder if I am worthy enough or even qualified to be a gardener.  But here in the valley, God has shown me his infinite mercy.  Even though I do not desire the fire as I feel I should, he has shown me that the garden is exactly where he wants me to be.

This Sunday in Mass, after my usual litany of apologies for not being near the fire, I saw Jesus standing next to me in the valley.  With his arm around me, we gazed at the fire in the distance.  In all of his radiance, he looked down at my face, smiled and said, “It is normal for you to fear the fire will burn you.  But, you don’t need to fear it.  I have covered you with the living water.  I have made it so that you can be in the fire and experience its splendor.  You are covered with my blood.”  Although I haven’t made it all the way back up to the fire on the mountain, I no longer feel so alone.  The forest isn’t quite so inviting and the journey up the mountain isn’t quite so daunting.  But most of all, the fear of the fire is being replaced with desire as it pulls me into its glorious splendor all over again.  

Lessons from Ga-Ga

At this year’s middle school PHAT camp (meeting People, Hanging out, Adoring God, and Touring the metroplex), we built the most awesome thing ever: a ga-ga pit.  Ga-ga is a game played in an octagon shaped enclosure with a 3 foot wall.  This project was exciting because I was in on it from the beginning.  I saw the kids fall in love with the game on a retreat.  I saw the idea to build a pit at the church born in the imagination of a fellow youth minister.  I witnessed all the planning of the pit construction- from the miraculous donations of materials right down to the angel who showed up at the 11^th hour with the expertise needed to actually build the structure.  I watched the youth dig out grass, haul wood, and hammer nails in 100+ degree weather.  Finally, at the end of the week, the pit was built and the game was on.  How could I not get in on the fun?

I jumped over the wall.  Immediately, I felt a twinge of a familiar pain in my lower back- my back hasn’t been quite right since the birth of my youngest.  Naturally, I ignored it.  I wanted to play.  The pain was just a twinge and I can certainly get over it.  So, I played.  In order to play, one must spend the majority of the game in a crouched over position protecting one’s feet and shins while in constant motion- probably a chiropractor’s worst nightmare.  It was fun although I was easy prey.  The kids relished getting the adults out quickly and, in my case, somewhat easily.  Anyhow, I played a few rounds.  When I stood up and straightened out my back after the final round, I realized how dumb I had been.  I was in serious pain.  I spent the next two days on the sofa or in a hot bath- two days to come to terms with the fact I am no longer a spring chicken.

This summer, I turn 35.  I can’t claim to be in my early thirties and that makes my twenties seem like ages ago.  In addition to my back issues, my eyes seem to be losing their youth (It’s either that or my arms are getting shorter).  And, after trying different kinds of make-up with no success, I am now seriously shopping for that magic cream to erase the lines around my eyes.  But the real stinger was when I realized the high school youth that out-played me at ga-ga were born the year I graduated from high school.  Yes, I am O.L.D.

My two boys are 7 years apart.  I had my oldest when I was 22 and my youngest when I was 29.  As a 22 year old mom, I was certain I was the youngest parent ever.  I felt as if I had no clue what I was doing.  The mommy wars scared me half to death and in an effort to over-accommodate, my poor son was sheltered from everything from T. V. to candy.  When I had my youngest, I was a 29 year-old seasoned parent and educator.  So, my youngest has gotten to play in the dirt, taste everything from chocolate to dog food and been educated thoroughly in the ways of Spongebob and his square pants.  So, I guess age has loosened me up a little but I’m not sure it has made me any wiser or better at parenting.

When I was younger, I thought that when I reached this point in my life, I will have had a few things figured out.  But the truth is, I don’t.  I know that my experiences have brought me maturity, but I still don’t know if what I’m doing with my children is the “right” thing.  Will my older son be wiser or make better decisions because I made so many of his decisions when he was younger?  Will my younger son be more of a risk taker or have more confidence because I let him explore things more independently?  I don’t know, only time will tell. 

In the meantime, I should probably stay out of the ga-ga pit.  A visit to the eye doctor would be wise.  And hopefully, I’ll find that eye cream soon. But, most importantly, I’ll keep hitting my knees and loving these two boys with all my heart.  That is the best thing this not-so-wise-35-year-old Mommy can do- love them and lead them to the source of love itself.

Desires of the Heart

So, let’s about sex (I apologize if that song is now stuck in your head- I couldn’t resist).  So, let’s see, sex is a topic my parents never really approached.  Sure, they explained the biology of it, and they told me not to do it-end of story.  So, I concluded that sex was bad.  The Baptist church where I grew up preached a lot about purity.  It was wrong to have sex outside of marriage, so don’t do it.  Naturally, I concluded that sex makes one impure.  Meanwhile, in health class, we learned about all STDs and how hard it is to remain in high school if you have a baby at 16.  And if you must have sex, then use a condom.  Therefore, I concluded that sex is dirty and leads to trouble.  At the lunch table, I learned that sex was something you did when you really, really loved someone(and I mean REALLY).  However, the girls that did it were immediately labeled as slutty and dirty, probably due to all the wonderful knowledge we gained in health class.    Through the media, I learned that sex was a healthy expression of one’s self and, if you are not having sex, then you are somehow not healthy or normal, especially if you were still a virgin in college.  Naturally, I concluded that the rules for sex change in college.  So, in my 20s, I spend a lot of time sorting out all this conflicting information.  By then, I was married, but I still didn’t understand sex.  I knew it was something more than what I was living out in my marriage, but I could not put my finger on it.  Imagine my delight when I finally stumbled upon John Paul II’s Theology of the Body.  Oh, how I wish I had this information as a teen!  I wish I knew that the family was a reflection of the trinity.  I wish I knew that physical love is actually a shadow of heavenly love.  I wish I knew that sex was about giving, not getting.   I wish I knew because then maybe I would have made better choices and not wasted all that time in my 20s living a life I thought was right but oddly unfulfilling.

And that is why I am teaching a Theology of the Body course to the middle school youth in our parish.   When I first embraced this idea, I thought I was going to give them information about how God sees sex and what sex is in light of God’s love and plan for humanity.  But, I didn’t realize that Theology of the Body has other nuggets of wisdom beyond sex that are REALLY helpful to teens.  One in particular has left me awestruck all over again. 

We are all seeking three things in life: love, happiness and purpose. These innate desires are given to us by God.  Before the fall in the garden, Adam and Eve experienced life with these desires fully and completely fulfilled. They knew their purpose– to love and to be loved. By knowing their purpose and uniting their hearts to each other and God, they experienced perfect happiness and love. After they sinned, these desires remained but were impossible to fulfill. By disobeying God in the garden, they damaged their relationships with nature, with each other, with their souls, and, most importantly, with God. These damaged relationships are the inheritance passed onto humanity in original sin. We desire love, happiness and purpose but struggle to find them. We look to wealth, power and glory to meet these desires only to be left empty and lost. But when we turn to Christ, the one who defeated original sin, we find these desires fulfilled. They are met in the one who denied himself glory, wealth, and power when he won our salvation on the cross in a grand display of true love. 

When youth are in their teen years, they are discovering these innate desires and trying to figure out who they are and how they fit into this world. Unfortunately, we live in a very materialistic, “me” centered and goal-driven society. It is easy for our young people to conclude that wealth, power and glory will satisfy our most innate desires for happiness, purpose and love. Then, they go down a path that leads to an empty, lacking life.  We have to help them open their eyes to the beauty of God’s purpose for humanity.  God made humans for love and to love.  He imprinted that love on our bodies when he made us male and female.  Love is giving one’s self to another(marriage, charity, service etc..).  We need to help these teens figure out how God is asking them to live out their vocation to love.  The contrary message the world sends is loud and full of full false promises.  We need to show them what love is and how it’s our purpose and path to true happiness.

So, how do we get them on the path that leads to true happiness? First, we must constantly point them to God as they seek purpose and identity. They need to know that God loves them.  They are in that stage when they are skeptical of God and especially skeptical of his love.  This message cannot be delivered too many times.  Then, we must show them the love of Christ in how we treat them and others. We can talk until we are blue in the face, but what we model will speak so much louder than our words.  We must allow Christ to love them through us.  We need to show them Christ’s love in how we live our lives.  Finally and most importantly, we must model the true life of happiness, purpose and love by putting our relationships with God and our families above our careers and financial goals. The priorities and values we model will be the priorities and values we pass to our children. 

So, what does all this have to do with sex?  Well, if teens understand love, feel loved by God and their families, and find their purpose in living a life of love, then they are better equipped to understand God’s great plan for humanity.  They will be able to see what their purpose is here, on Earth in the year 2012.  They will be able to wrap their minds around the sacred nature of sex, the beautiful fruit it bears, and its awesome glimpse into the nature of God.  This life is a great adventure where God hopes we will find him.  He has given us many clues along the way.  The beauty of sex is one of them.  Let’s be sure our teens see sex in this light and give them greater hope for finding their heart’s desires of purpose, happiness and love.

Middle school is a great time to start talking to your kids about sex because, trust me, they are already talking about it amongst themselves.  Read up on Theology of the Body.  Arm yourself with some good resources like Theology of the Body for Teens published by Ascension Press.  But, most of all, be sure your kids know you love them.  Say it out loud.  Show them in all the little things you do.  Allow Christ to reach through you to touch their hearts.  A teen that experiences REAL love will be less likely to go searching for love in all the wrong places (Ha! Another song to get stuck in your head). 

Behold the Sacrifice

I close my eyes as I hear the sound of the consecrated host breaking.  The Priest holds up the broken Eucharist and calls us to behold Him.  Behold the one who takes away the sins of the world.  Behold the perfect sacrifice.  Behold the suffering servant.  Behold the mystery.  Behold our Lord. 

As I behold Him, I am swept to the foot of the cross.  Here I am watching pure love die.  Here I am watching my Lord struggle to breathe.  Here I am watching my Lord’s face wince as he pushes and pulls on the nails.  His wounds from the scourging are fresh, open and bleeding.  Blood from the thorns runs into his eyes.  Behold Him.  His pain is great, raw and deeper than I can begin to imagine.  It is more than just the physical pain that plagues him in these moments.  His heart is also breaking. As he hangs there dying, his most loyal are absent.  All that he has taught seems to be for nothing.  All that he has done- healings, walking on water, calming the storm, feeding the thousands- all of it has fallen on deaf ears and hard hearts.  They do not understand who he is.  Behold him.

Oh, Lord, why am I here?  Why are you showing your suffering to me?  My heart breaks to see your pain.  It is hard to understand this place.  It is hard to understand what is going on here.  Oh, Lord, your suffering is too much to behold.  You are my love, you are the meaning to my life, you are the air I breathe.  To behold you here, dying on the cross is excruciating.  To behold you here, suffering through the punishment I deserve is agonizing. 

Blinking back tears, I stand and take my place in line for communion.  For the past month, I have had the same experience at Mass.  I am to the point where I am not sure I even want to come anymore.  I do not want to see Jesus suffer like this.  Why is he showing this to me?  I receive our Lord in the Eucharist with all of this on my mind.  And as I resume my place at the kneeler, His voice rings through my heart, “My child, this is love.  My pain is great.  My suffering is more than a mortal man can bear.  My heart is breaking.  But, my love for you is greater than this pain.  If you don’t know the depths of my pain, then how can you know the depths of my love?”  Oh, my Lord, forgive me.  Give me the strength to behold your sacrifice and make me worthy to receive your love.

I recently had a teen ask me, “If God loves us, than why is there so much pain and suffering in the world?”  This is valid question that I am not going to pretend to know the answer to.  I think it is safe to assume that every human that ever lived has suffered.  Some have suffered more than others.  I don’t think there is a quick, blanket answer that would explain why people suffer.  But, I think it should speak volumes to us that the Lord came to this Earth to suffer.  He not only experienced suffering on the cross, but also in the desert when he was tempted and in the garden when he prayed with the Father before he was arrested.  He wept when he learned of Lazarus’ death.  He dealt with rejection and ridicule throughout his ministry.  And let us not forget his 30 years before his public ministry began.  Growing into manhood is not easy.  Yes, Jesus suffered.  Through his suffering, we see how suffering has purpose.  When we find the purpose to our suffering, then I think we also find hope and the true meaning of love.

To tell you the truth, until recently, I never really understood the concept of suffering.  I accepted the fact that I will suffer.  And I reasoned that the suffering the Lord wills for my life will help me die to my fallen nature so that I may rise with Christ.  But, beyond this broad concept, I really didn’t understand it.  I didn’t get what it meant to “offer up” my suffering. Then recently, I had a migraine a few hours before I was supposed to be on stage in front of 175 kids and adults at youth night.  I was trying to decide what I was going to do.  Should I accept the fact I may not be able to get on stage and come up with plan B?  Or, I should pray for a miracle and ask God to take the migraine away so that I may do his work with ease.  It was in that last idea that I realized my opportunity. The image of Christ dying on the cross flashed in my imagination.  In that moment, I prayed to God thanking him for the opportunity to be obedient despite my suffering.  I would be there on the stage in the midst of the migraine and with a smile on my face. The Lord showed me his love and now, I will show him mine.

Working in ministry is not an easy career path.  I’ve only got one foot on the path and I can see the sacrifices and challenges my family will face.  Since my husband is a teacher, we are already financially challenged.  Choosing to be on this path full time will not bring much financial hope to our horizon.  But I know this is what the Lord is asking me to do.  I used to think that if the Lord wanted me to choose this path, he would make it easy.  He would take away the financial challenges and, therefore, the path would be easy to choose.  But then I realized that the suffering I endure on this path has purpose.  This is my opportunity to choose God despite the suffering.  This is my opportunity to love God in the midst of financial pain and turmoil.  Sure, I could choose the easy path.  But, with this path into ministry, I choose to suffer and to love God in the midst of it- just as he loved me in the midst of his suffering on the cross.

Through the cross, Christ shows us that suffering and sacrifice go hand in hand. And that is why Christ asks us to be his hands and feet in this world of suffering.  He asks us to lessen the load of our neighbor out of love.  He asks us to love our neighbor without expectations.  When we love like he loves, then we can expect to suffer.  And when our neighbors see us suffer for their sake, then they know just how much we love them and, perhaps they come to know just how much Christ loves them. I have always understood this concept.  This concept is central to a life of service in ministry.  But, in the light of my recent prayer experiences, I have come to understand this concept in a new way.  When I suffer for the sake of another, in a small way, I suffer like Christ suffered.  He is sharing with me the depth of his pain.  And with that perspective, I can gain a new understanding of the depth of his amazing, intoxicating love.

"That shall be my life, to scatter flowers--to miss no single opportunity of making some small sacrifice, here by a smiling look, there by a kindly word, always doing the tiniest things right, and doing it for love." --Therese of Lisieux

On Being Judas

Judas is a character we want to distance ourselves from.  He did a terrible thing.  He delivered our Lord into the hands of those who would kill him.  He set the story into motion.  He was the betrayer.  That is how history will remember him.  Surely, I would never do such a thing.  I would never betray my Lord in such a way.  I could never be Judas.  Yes, that seems comfortable.

But, really, what did Judas do?  He made a choice.  He chose his own selfish desires over his Lord.  Maybe he didn't really believe that Jesus was the Son of God.  Or maybe he was trying to make Jesus be someone he wasn't- a political leader who would fight his way to justice and become a great king for Israel.  Or maybe he just really wanted 30 pieces of silver.  We don't know his motivation, but one thing is clear.  He made a choice- he chose his selfish desires over his Lord.  And that choice put the story in motion.  That choice started Jesus' terrible journey to the cross on that night.  We all know that Jesus' sacrifice was God's will but to be the one who set the circumstances in motion is not a good thing.  The consequences of Judas' choice were dire and heart wrenching and when Judas looked at the blood on his hands, he ended his own life.

Whether you choose to believe it or not, we are faced with similar choices in our lives.  We must choose between God and money.  We must choose between God and popularity.  We must choose God's will over our own desires.  And when we fail, we are no better than Judas.  We are doing exactly what he did. We are taking the money in exchange for the life of God.  We are carrying out our own agenda by handing the Lord over to the wolves.  No, we are no better than Judas.  But we have something Judas didn't have.  Perspective. We have the benefit of knowing that the Lord died in order to forgive our sins.  He died so he can give us his life and gather us to himself for eternity.  He died because he knew we were all like Judas but he loved us anyway.  This perspective is a great gift.  Because instead of seeing the blood on our hands, Jesus washes it away.  All we have to do is ask him.  That great love is what Judas didn't understand.

As we embark on the last few days of Holy week, I invite you to reflect on the ways in which you have been Judas.  It is not easy to admit that we have sold out the Lord.  It is not easy to admit that we betrayed the one who gave us everything.  But, when we admit what we have done, and the priest says those words of absolution, we are forgiven.  We are made clean.  We are reconciled with the Lord.  And there is no greater joy than to be in the presence of the Lord with a clean heart.  Don't continue to be Judas and let the sin destroy your soul and rob you of the love of God.  There is still time to make the right choice.