Busy, Busy, Busy

As I sit at work, it is the calm before the storm. We are about to begin a pretty big project, and I thought I'd update my blog, since, you know, I haven't done it in like 40 years. Like Moses.

For your (re: my) reading pleasure, I'd like to reflect on some of the things I've learned since moving to Boston almost two months ago:

1) If you drive in this city, you either have to be an aggressive beast or preparing to die a violent, turbulent death. This death will most likely involve a Toyota Prius Hybrid and/or a train, which is, ironically enough, located IN THE MIDDLE OF THE STREET. I am not aggressive enough, nor am I prepared to die so young. Therefore, I drive only as a last-minute resort. This is usually when I no longer have any food in my house.

2) The T (the local public transportation around here), has uses both as an above-ground trolley and a below-ground subway. For the most part, the T is helpful, clean, reliable, and it gets me to wherever I need to go. Occasionally, and by occasionally I mean like three times a week, the T's paying station will somehow stop working, and everyone gets a free ride. I don't know how the MBTA makes any money, because I end up paying for the T about 50% of the time. It's a godsend.

3) This city is actually fabulous. I was homesick for the first two days, but once I got my bearings (and promptly gave up trying to drive), I felt much more at-home. The School of Theology and Ministry is a fantastic community environment. I've made really good friends. I love my classes and my professors. I feel like an adult. I also have a depleted bank account. But you know, I'm doing alright. It's a blessing to be here, and I remind myself of that every day.

4) On the downside, this city is also expensive. I'm spending more money than I've wanted to, but it's hard to avoid. I mean, it's worth it, though. Since being here, I've gone to a few awesome concerts (Sara Bareilles being one of them, and that one was FREE!), I've eaten at some great restaurants (mmmmm, Thai!), I've been to a GIANT move theatre downtown, and just yesterday, I got to meet Bill Bryson at a book signing, who is my all-time favorite author. These are just some of the things that this city has to offer, and I haven't even scratched the surface.

5) Because I'm suffering from an embarrassment of riches, I've been feeling a lot of torn feelings about my own degree program. It seems that I have *too* many options, and I don't know which one I want to settle on. I've been going back and forth for a few weeks about my MA/MSW dual degree program, feeling some doubt especially about the MSW part. I love Theology and I love ministry, and my program currently only has me in the Theology school for one year, and the remaining two years will be at the school of social work. It's not ideal for me, but I think it is something I still want to do. In a perfect world, I would just stay with Theology for the entire degree program, and stay on this fabulous campus with the people I love...but without challenging myself, I'll never grow, and I'll never find out what I'm capable of accomplishing. So, I know that pursuing my dreams also means that I have to go outside of my comfort zone. But really, at this point, I should be used to that shit. I haven't really been "comfortable" in a few years, and every time I took a chance, it ended up being a great opportunity for growth. So, it saddens me that I can only be immersed in this community for one year, but I've accepted it as part of God's plan for my life.

So, I'm happy. I'm so busy! There's a lot of work and I've always got somewhere to be and something to do with my friends here, but I have GREAT friends and I've never felt so blessed as I do right now at this juncture of my life.

I don't know when I'm going to update this again, but rest assured that things are good. Thank God for that.

Peace.

New Surroundings

Hello blog world! I finally have a free moment so that I can update everyone on my life...all two of you. I moved to Brighton, MA on Saturday, August 27th, just in time for Hurricane Irene, so that was a little troublesome. The initial few days were very difficult; it was raining, I got lost several times, I was feeling very homesick...it was an overwhelming time. But my parents left that Monday and I had to start feeling at home. So, I decorated my room and I met people and I went out to bars and I registered for classes. I did everything I knew how to do that would help me feel like I was actually living here. And you know what? It worked.

I've been here a little over two weeks now, and it already feels like home. I'm making fantastic friends, and I just love my school so much. My classes are challenging, but I'm learning a lot. My job is awesome, my coworkers rock, and I'm finding my way around the public transportation system. All in all, I'm settling in pretty well (you know, once I got past the first two days of panic and mayhem).

I even found my dream parish today: St. Cecelia's in Boston. It's a huge church, which usually isn't my favorite, but it's got an intimate feel to it. Their music ministry is wonderful and the pastor is just awesome. He gave a 30 minute long homily today, but it didn't even seem long because it was just so damn good. After Mass ended, I filled out a permanent membership form. I want to have a "home" parish outside of the BC Bubble, and I'm feeling so blessed that there's such an awesome, forward-thinking parish so close to home.

So, there's not much of a deep theological reflection for today. I'm just feeling blessed. I'm blessed to be back in school. I'm blessed to be making great friendships. I'm blessed to be in such a vibrant city that really caters toward young adults. I'm just feeling independent and GOOD about things, and it's a great way to start the next three years of my life.

God is good all the time.

And all the time...


...God is good.


Peace be with all of you this day.

Lost Memories

Hello, blog world. I apologize that I haven't been updating this as frequently as I wanted to this summer, but my days have gotten away with me because of social plans and traveling and sheer laziness. Since I've been home, I've seen three theatrical productions (one of which on Broadway!), I've traveled to Rochester to see my best friend and to Nazareth, PA to see another friend from college, and I've attempted to clean out the bowels of my room, which has proved to be about 80% unsuccessful. But, things have been good.

I was just going through my old facebook messages and cleaning them out, only to realize that I accidentally deleted my favorite conversation thread: the one that all of my best friends from college have been commenting on since May 2010. I tried everything, but I just can't get it back. I looked at that thread all year, whenever I needed a pick-me-up or encouragement about my ministry, or when i just wanted a good laugh or a reminder of my memories of college. And now that entire thread is deleted. Needless to say, I was upset. I think what upset me more than anything else was the fact that it was really one of my only ongoing ties to my life at college. It was the only conversation that I was having with my friends, and it was a way for everyone to still be involved in everyone else's lives. Now, my friends can copy and paste the entire thread to me if I really want them to, so it's not the end of the world. But I think it's more upsetting because it's one more thing that separates me from my past memories.

Now, I'm going to be introspective, because this is my blog, so I can. Why do we, as humans, generally fear the idea of forgetting things? I know that for me, I've always feared forgetting memories, feelings, and experiences. When I graduated from college last year, I was so worried about forgetting how I felt at the peak of my Bonnies experience: the ups as well as the downs. I wanted to immortalize those memories, keep them locked away forever so that I could just take a look at them and re-live them at any point. Actually, what I really wanted was a pensieve. Damn you, JK Rowling. But why do we fear forgetfulness? Because really, now that I'm a year out of college, it's okay that it's not so fresh to me anymore. I have great memories of my years there, and there is a part of my heart that will always belong there. But it's okay if I don't remember every single Friday night wine party with my girlfriends, or the beautiful homilies given by fantastic friars. I can't really remember a whole lot of specifics, but I'm at the point now where that's okay. I remember my memories as good things that were life-giving and special to me, and that's good enough for now.

I think that we get so caught up in our memories that we often forget to enjoy the present, or the future. One thing that I had to learn this year is that God is in the present moment. God was obviously very present in my experiences of college, and God was present in my experiences in ministry. This is part of the reason why it's painful to say goodbye to those things...but we must always remember that God is with us NOW! When we say goodbye to a place or a person or a lifestyle, we aren't saying goodbye to the work and manifestation of God. We're just saying goodbye to that particular experience. If I didn't let go of my high school ministry experience, I would have never been open to the workings of the Spirit in college, and then I wouldn't have heard the call to do ministry. So it's really a good thing to say goodbye to the old and usher in the new. It may not always seem like a good thing, and Lord knows it's rarely easy, but it's good for us.

I'm moving to Boston in three weeks. That's a scary thing. I know in my heart that it's a really good thing and that I will settle in and love living there. But my head is so full of logistical crap that I'm having a hard time being excited for it. But something I've come to terms to is this: suck it up. Life isn't easy, transition isn't easy, and moving isn't easy. There will be many things in the next month that will be annoying and challenging and scary. But there will be an abundance of things that will be beautiful and amazing and awesome, and for those things, I am waiting in gleeful anticipation.

This is the next step, and God is calling me to it. So what if I don't actually have a key to my apartment yet and I haven't registered for classes and I'm not even really sure where my new apartment IS? It's all gonna be fine. Thomas Merton once said (I'm paraphrasing) that even though he didn't know the road in front of him, he rested securely knowing that God was right there with him. So, let's go, God. I'm ready.

Peace.

Goodbyes and Hellos

Goodbyes and Hellos. For the past few years, that's all I seem to be doing. Saying goodbye to one juncture of my life, and saying hello (albeit hesitantly) to the next juncture. Our Send-Off was Thursday, and I've been taking a few days to process it all. I miss my roommates, I miss the kids we ministered with, I miss the adults to nurtured us and helped us do the job we were called to do. However, I'm not sad. I feel like we did a fantastic job this year, and I feel a sense of closure and accomplishment, which is a great feeling. I received a lot of cards and gifts from people, and the kind words that they said to me were both gratifying and incredibly humbling. One young woman said that she hopes to be half the woman that I am some day. Talk about a compliment! Still, I feel like they have all given so much more to me than I ever could to them. It's a great feeling, knowing that you did a good service for a year, and that your presence will be missed by a lot of people. It somehow makes all the rest of the drama and crap worth it.

So now I'm home with my family for about a month. I've spent the past few days trying to clean out my room, which has spent the last five years collecting tons of stuff that I just don't need or want anymore. Couple that with the unbearable heatwave we've had lately, and this becomes a near impossible task. Still, I am doing a little each day. I managed to finally clear off my bed, no small feat, so now I can have some space to unpack my clothes and give a lot of things away. My trip to Kentucky made me realize how much unnecessary stuff I have in my own room, so I've already donated about five garbage bags full of clothes. There's always more to do...

So, this is just a brief check-in. Things are good, things are relaxing, and things are humid. So, you know. We're surviving. I went to the library on Friday and checked out a book. I haven't done that in probably six or seven years. It felt glorious.

I hope all is well with you and your world, whoever you are. May you know how deeply you are loved and cherished by our Creator. :-)

Peace.

Something to Remember Us By

Well, our mission trip has come and gone, and we've been home since Sunday afternoon. It was nothing short of incredible, to be totally honest. The van ride down was pleasant and fun because my van group was just full of great kids who were quiet when it was appropriate to be (like 4:30am), and full of joy and laughter the rest of the time. Our community puts a lot of effort into maintaining this sense of comraderie and togetherness, and to stress the fact that no one's ministry is any important than any other. I was doing outreach, but there were also five manual labor sites, a VBS, and a nursing home ministry. So, we did a lot! It was exhausting, but totally awesome.

The ministry itself was amazing, and we met so many people who have left an impact on my life. The first day, we set up shop in the parking lot of an apartment complex and began knocking on doors to let people know we were outside. As a natural introvert, the prospect of knocking on stranger's doors to let them know that I have free clothes and school supplies to give out...well, it's a little daunting. But as the leader, I had to go ahead and do it, or else none of the kids would have. At least I thought that. In reality, many of them were a lot better at it than I was. Can you imagine being fifteen years old and just talking to a total stranger in a place that's so different than your own home? It was impressive.

We met a young woman fairly early on, and her story has stuck with me. Her name is Jessica, she is 22, which, if you didn't know, is exactly how old I am, and she is the mother to four children. FOUR CHILDREN. The oldest child if eight, which means that she had him when she was a mere 14 years old. She's also raising them virtually by herself, since her boyfriend is in Iraq and will be there for the next year, with little to no communication. And here's the craziest part: she didn't want to take too many clothes because she wanted to save it for the people in the complex "who need it." I'm pretty sure she needed it as badly, or even more so, than many of the residents of that area, but she didn't want to be greedy and she wanted to share what little clothing we had. Her selflessness astounded me. We ended up talking to her for a long time, and we felt an immediate connection with her. What great courage she must have, to raise four children in poverty when she is barely out of adolescence herself. It struck me how vastly different our lives have been, and how my worries pale in comparison to hers. It was an incredibly humbling feeling. When we were about to leave, she gave us two small pictures of her with her family. She said that she wanted us to have them so that we had "something to remember us by." I don't need a picture to remember her, but Jessica and her family's faces now reside in the photo section of my wallet, so that I can carry them with me always.

This was just an example of the many, many families we met last week. Not only was our ministry amazing, but I had the opportunity to bond and grow closer to many of the teens whom I have ministered to all year. In a hilarious moment of humility, one teen said to me, "Liz, I had no idea that you were fun!" Well, better late than never, right? I am filled with gratitude for our trip, that we were safe and successful, and that we ended our volunteer year on a really high note.

So now I'm packing. Our send-off prayer service is tomorrow night, where the community will show up to show us their gratitude and to say goodbye. I'm trying to pack and fit my life into my car, but it's difficult. Before I move to Boston, I'm going to need to seriously downsize. And you know what? It's completely possible to live with less. I've seen it, and I can do it. So, even though I asked for a Kindle for my birthday, I've decided to rescind that request, because I don't need one more expensive electronic in my life. A digital camera would be nice, but really, I don't need it. It's a freeing thing to realize that you can live with less. I've been inspired by the people who cried with joy because we gave their child a new pair of pants or for the group who put new siding on their house. I witnessed true joy, and it's something that means more than any shiny new toy could ever provide.

Pray for us in our final 48 hours. Peace.

Appalachia, Here I Come!

In a little under 24 hours, I will be embarking on a rather large endeavor. I, along with 85 other teens and adults, will squish into 10 large vans, and make the drive down to Harlan, Kentucky, for a nine-day service trip. It is our Capuchin Appalachian Mission, and it's the biggest (and final) event of the year. We've been preparing for it for months now, and at this point, I just want to GO! I'm sitting here on my last office day, with an hour left, listening to the rain downpour outside, and I'm just anxiously awaiting tomorrow morning where we will pack up the vans and leave. It's something that we've all been looking forward to (albeit anxiously) for a long time, now.

My specific ministry down in Harlan is outreach. I, along with our resident priest, work with a group of ten or so other teenagers, and we go from neighborhood to neighborhood, passing out clothing, school supplies, and children's books to individuals and families in need. I did outreach once in high school on this exact same trip, and it's an experience that has stuck with me for years. As a natural introvert, I struggle with making conversation and getting over my fear of not being relateable to the people we meet. But, I just need to place the whole experience in God's hands and let Him work through me. I've been doing that this whole year, especially when I've lacked confidence in my own abilities. I'm anxious about all the details that need to be taken care of once we're down there, but I know that the priest with whom I am working is competent and has been doing this trip for a long time, so I really don't need to worry.

This is our last event at Capuchin Youth and Family Ministries. Four days after we get home from the mission trip, we have our Send-Off, which is an even prayer service and reception dedicated to thanking the volunteers for the work they did. It's always a beautiful service and a lot of people show up to see us off, but it's so strange that we're already at that point in the year. We've been having so many conversations lately about closure, and praying our goodbyes (an excellent book!), and learning how to transition out of this experience and into the next one, and it be honest, there's too much in my head right now to have any clarity about it all. Maybe in a month from now, when I'm home and enjoying a few weeks of summer vacation, I'll be able to process the year a little better. When I think about this entire year, it blows my mind that we made it through. I'm proud of the work we did, and I'm grateful for the many, many opportunities for growth that I have experienced.

So, now, I need to stay present and attentive to this one, last experience. It's our biggest one, and it's going to take the most energy. But I'm ready for it. We're going out with a bang, and it only seems fitting because youth ministry is always a little chaotic!

Whoever reads this, I ask you for your prayers. Pray for traveling mercies as we drive down to Kentucky, as well as to and from our work sites every day. Pray that the community we foster will be uplifting and affirming and light-giving, both to the teens and to ourselves. Pray that God works through us to share His light and His love to the people of Harlan, and pray that we may be bold enough to love them, even when it's uncomfortable or difficult to do so. Just pray! :-)

See you on the other side! Peace.

It's JULY!!!

This is crazy. I can't believe it's July 1st. I remember moving into my community house on August 22nd, and wondering what would happen and how I would change and transform between then and July. There have been many moments this year where I wondered if I would even make it to July, and if my community would stick through everything together. But I can sit back and now say that I am proud of the work we've done, even if we're not quite done yet.

I'm on a retreat high because we just finished our Capuchin Outreach Program, which ran from Sunday evening until today. It turns out that I was able to stay on the retreat with some restrictions: I couldn't spend the week with my work group, I couldn't lead a theological reflection group, and I had to sleep in a private room at the retreat house at night. The last one was actually awesome, so I didn't mind that. At first, I was frustrated that I couldn't have a work group or reflection group to call my own, but I soon realized that there was work that needed to be done at the home base, and I was the person for the job.

I got to COP on Sunday night after my sister's high school graduation (!!!), which was insane because I sometimes still see my sister as a 12-year-old. Her graduation was beautiful and she looked stunning, and I literally beamed with pride when she walked across the stage. She manifested her adulthood and freedom by wasting no time and going sky-diving on Tuesday, the video of which is on facebook and it's probably the coolest thing I've ever witnessed. My sister is so awesome.

Anyway, I got to the retreat Sunday night and settled in, feeling a little out of place and useless because I wasn't really in charge of anything. But as soon as Monday dawned, there was plenty of stuff to get done. So, I spent the week running errands, buying stuff for work, and visiting the work sites as the official Picture Lady. It was a different experience than what I was expecting, and in some sense, I am lucky that I was able to see all the work sites, instead of just one. The kids seemed to get a lot out of the week, and no one wanted to leave this afternoon (well, we did...but the kids didn't seem to understand that.) This week, I learned how to go to the Home Depot and buy water sealant (a major accomplishment for me), I visited a manual work site where Habitat for Humanity was stationed and learned a very humbling lesson about my own sheltered upbringing, and I experienced a feeling of true humility by cleaning up after every meal and making sure that all the needs of the community were met.

So, it was different. But it was actually awesome. I'm feeling incredibly grateful right now: grateful for my community, grateful that I have spent a year in a place that has supported me and sustained me and given me life, grateful that God has challenged my limited understanding of service and gently pushed me towards greater boundaries. I'm grateful that teenagers told me this week that they would miss me, and that I made an impact in their lives. I'm just filled with joy and gratitude, and it's such an organic feeling that nothing can really replace or match it.

Our last day is in less than three weeks. We have one more week of office days, and then we head off to Harlan, KY for our ten-day mission trip. It's going to be difficult and tiring and smelly, but I know it's going to be incredible. So, keep us in your prayers and let the good times roll.

Literally. Because my Chinese food just arrived. Peace.

I Have Returned

My apologies for being so late in updating this. I was away for a week with my community at Interlaken, NY. We stayed at a friary right on Cayuga Lake, and had a beautiful, yet simple, week-long stay/retreat. It's something that they do with the ministry team every year, both at the beginning and the end, and I think it's a fabulous tradition. A simple change in scenery can do wonders for a team's morale, energy, and spirit. We were all given a chance to reflect upon the year: our joys, our sadnesses, our accomplishments, and the things that we could have done better. Overall, it was incredibly therapeutic for the team as a whole, as well as for me personally. I am grateful to be a part of an organization that deeply values the spiritual and personal well-being of its members. Without this attention to our own wellness, our retreats wouldn't be half as good as they have been this year.

We got home from that on Thursday of last week and then I had planned on spending a quiet weekend at home, when my best friend from Rochester surprised me out of the blue Saturday night with some interesting news that she had to tell me in person. My ex-boyfriend is getting married. My ex-boyfriend is getting married in a month. My ex-boyfriend, whom I dated less than half a year ago, is getting married in a month to a woman he started dating four months ago. Now how's THAT for news? It was shocking, to say the least. I'm not as torn up about it as one might expect, because I genuinely want him to be happy and secure, and if this woman can do this for him, then it's great. The most surprising part of it all was that my ex-boyfriend is notorious for being indecisive, wavering, and anxious about commitment. So, it's pretty out-of-character for him to get hitched four months after meeting someone, which began two weeks after breaking up with someone else. After the initial shock, it was actually kind of hilarious that this happened. Even more so, I found out about it because he invited my best friend and her boyfriend to the wedding, since he's good friends with the boyfriend. He didn't invite me, I guess, but he invited them. My best friend politely declined, but we put the boyfriend on spying duty so he can tell us all about the wedding.

At first I was a little angry with my ex because it seems pretty clear that he only broke up with me in order to start dating this other woman, which kind of sucks. Moreover, I wish he had told me that from the get go because then I wouldn't have been looking for closure and trying to discern the best time to start talking to him again. But, you know, I'm not really angry anymore. I've learned from my past relationships that holding grudges doesn't actually help anyone. I think it was Gandhi who said something like (I'm paraphrasing): "Anger and hatred are like holding hot coals in your hand...in the end, only you end up getting burned." So, I've tried to hold onto that philosophy over the last few years, knowing from experience that "it doesn't do to dwell on dreams, Harry, and forget to live." Ahh, sorry, Harry Potter, quote! I couldn't resist. ;-)

So that was my weekend. And if you could believe this, it got worse. I started feeling achy and sore in my shoulder on Sunday and when I went to the doctor on Wednesday, he diagnosed me with a mild case of shingles. SHINGLES! Really?! Like, the thing that old people get because their immunity is down? Yes, the very same. I have shingles. It's pretty funny, but also kind of painful and frustrating because it's highly contagious. Because of this, I got kicked off the island for our outreach week next week, where I would have been working with little elementary school kids at a Vacation Bible School. So, not only was I kicked off the program, but I left my partner in a lurch who now has to work with a new person and plan everything out herself. The meds I'm on (prednisone for the inflammation or Valtrex for the virus) are okay, but I have to take a lot of them and they have some not so great side effects, like nausea, vomiting, dizziness, and....oh yeah, psychosis. Luckily, apart from a headache, I haven't experienced any of these, so I'm grateful for that.

So, my ex boyfriend is getting married and I have a diseased nervous system that only happens in 80-year-olds. And I got kicked off of one of our biggest programs of the year, because my boss wants me to be rested enough to heal and go on our big mission trip in two weeks. Needless to say, it's been a long week and I'm glad I got that week of retreat in before all of this happened. It was like God planned it just like that. And indeed He probably did.

Still, though, I'm content. The past week I have been showered by generosity and care from family and friends. I mean, my best friend drove SIX HOURS just so that she could tell me the news of the engagement in person, in case I needed to vent or cry about it. And my mother took me to the doctor and got me my prescription, on her week of vacation. My community has lovingly began to refer to me as "Shingles" (think Eat, Pray, Love's parallel of "Groceries", via Richard from Texas), but it's all in jest and I do appreciate their flexibility to work around my limited contributions. I'm grateful that my diagnoses wasn't something worse, and that my parents' insurance covered the cost of the meds so that I can get better, quicker. It's in these moments of weakness, and yes, shoulder pain, that I appreciate God and the people in my life even more.

So, that's about the update that I have for all two of you who read this. Hope all is well out there in cyberland, and I'll try to write another entry more quickly than this one. I'm wishing you all sunny days and relaxing summer nights!

Peace.

The Joy Comes With the Morning

One of my favorite traditions within Catholicism is the theology of Paschal Mystery. The idea that Christ's passion, death, and Resurrection is actually mirrored in our own lives. Just as Christ carried His cross and suffered in a tremendous way, we too carry our crosses and bear our burdens...and sometimes suffer tremendously for it. But with the dawn comes a new life, a new chance to make a change. Christ is alive, and we, too, are alive. We suffer and we weep and we go through great pain in this life, but sooner or later, we see the new day. I shamelessly quote Samwise Gamgee from the Lord of the Rings when I say, "A new day comes. And when she sun shines, it'll shine out the clearer." So, not only does the sun shine, but it shines even brighter than before because it delivers us from our deepest despair, the dark nights of our souls. What a beautiful thing.

The readings for today talk about just that. The Gospel addresses it directly, saying:

"So you also are now in anguish.
But I will see you again, and your hearts will rejoice,
and no one will take your joy away from you."

No one will take your joy away from you. What a powerful statement. I'm reminded of many accounts of Jewish prisoners kept in concentration camps, who, despite unbelievable circumstances, managed to survive and share their courage and faith with others. They were stripped of everything: their families, their friends, their homes, their clothing, their food...and yet, they survived. I don't know how they did it, but some of them seemed to have that spark, that something that kept them alive. It's unbelievable what people can live through. This passage reminds me of their strength.

I often worry about losing all of my money. As a volunteer and a recent college graduate, I don't have a lot of money. In fact, if I was supporting myself, I would literally go bankrupt. That's an intensely scary reality. Next year, I have to pay for my rent, my groceries, my gas, my books, and the built-in costs for living in a bustling city. In short, I'm terrified. I have a job and it's going to pay me enough to cover my rent, so I'm grateful for that. But what happens when I run out of grocery money, or my car needs a repair? These are the things that keep me up at night, because I don't have a savings account. I don't have a rich uncle who can buy me anything my heart desires (does anyone really have those?). I just don't have a lot of back-up resources besides the good hearts of my parents, and I don't want to rely on them too much because they don't have a lot of money, either. They're putting my sister through college, now, too. In short, money causes a ton of stress...stress that I don't really want at this juncture in my life.

But this passage somehow gives me peace. It reminds me that no matter what hardships I'm going to face, God will be with me through it. God will be waiting on the other side of it, wherever that ends up. And God will provide for me. That's a scary thing to trust in, and I'll admit that I don't believe it very often. God isn't going to rain down thousands of dollars or make Citibank forget that I owe them $25,000. But somehow, God will provide.

God tells us not to be afraid. It sounds easy, but we all know it's nearly impossible. My best friend told me yesterday that she needed to undergo neurological testing because they were afraid that she may have the beginnings of MS. My best friend. The other half of my heart. Understandably, I was afraid for her. And for her boyfriend. And for me. I was just afraid. And then she tells me today that the lab tests were incorrect in their assumptions and that she simply has a sensitivity to certain noises. Her brain stem is fine. She doesn't have a neurological disease. I felt like I could breathe again. But millions of people aren't as lucky as my best friend, so I offered a prayer for them and their families. Fear is a very real thing, and it shouldn't be underestimated. I don't agree with people who just say that fear is an irrational psychosis that has no place in rational thought. I think fear is very real, and often enough, very justified. But we need to know how to deal with our fear in a manner that doesn't suffocate us. We need to let our hope mix with our fear, otherwise...we're lost.

So, I'm probably going to continue to worry about money. I can't help it. It's a very real fear. But I know in my heart that at the end of the day, God is there with me. And God will always provide for me, whether that's through an education or a job or generous parents who put themselves in financial burden just so that I can have a roof over my head. God is good all the time, and that's something that's worth remembering. Have a great weekend, everyone.

Peace.

Simple Joys in Life

I don't have a scriptural reflection today. This is about 70% due to laziness, but 30% due to the fact that I just want to talk about my weekend. So here we are.

I had a great weekend. I didn't really have any exciting plans going into it, and truth be told, I was a little miffed that I didn't go away to some beach or amusement park with friends because, well, I didn't have many available friends who could go away with me. And I couldn't go away, anyway, because I had commitments both on Saturday evening and Sunday morning, so that was that. So, because of my work commitment on Saturday evening, my boss gave me the day off on Friday, which was a pleasant surprise. I then spent all of Friday afternoon basking in the sun in my backyard. It was like going to the beach, except no outrageous parking fee and no messy sand everywhere. It was quiet, and it was sunny...just what I needed.

Saturday was equally relaxing as I spent most of the afternoon walking and enjoying the weather, and then I spent Saturday night at the concert that I went to for work. It was a fundraiser for the mission trip we're organizing, and though it wasn't our fundraiser, the kid organizing it really benefited from us being there to represent the organization, so we went. It was in Connecticut and it was a bit of a long night, but it was worth it because it brought in some much-needed money for the trip. So, Saturday wasn't as bad as I was expecting it to be.

Sunday morning, I donned my Dutch Reformed hat and drove to Readington, NJ to the Readington Reformed Church. I gave a little schpiel about Camp Warwick, and then stayed later during fellowship to answer questions, pass out brochures, and pretty much pimp out my favorite place in the entire world. I can't work there this summer, it will be the first summer in 15 years that I haven't gone there, so the least I could do was help promote it to kids who can go there. So, it was an early morning, but not a bad experience at all. I am always so grateful for hospitality and kindness from strangers. I felt welcomed at that church, like I was part of their family. The simplicity of many of the Dutch Reformed churches in the tri-state area is something that I really appreciate because it reminds me so much of my mom's church. The chipped paint in the bathrooms, the cement floors in the fellowship hall, the lackluster numbers of the women's guild meetings, and small attendance during summer worship...these aren't really positive aspects of a church community, but, you know, it's simple. And authentic. And the people who are there really go because they love their church. And that's something that I see as a real strength in Protestant churches. They don't go out of obligation or because they'll feel guilty if they miss it. They go because they want to. It's a beautiful thing.

Anyway, I went home Sunday night to have dinner with my family. My mom decided to cook since she wasn't working (a rarity these days), and she was planning on making spare ribs. Not my favorite meal, but really, I was grateful to have a dinner. Here's the catch: my family isn't great at time management. A big dinner will easily take hours to make, and it won't get served until 9:00 or 10:00 at night. At that rate, we should just move to Italy or Spain. We would fit in well there. So, dinner was super late partly because our outdoor grill is broken so everything had to be made inside. Little annoyances like that sometimes get me down, but upon hindsight, the dinner was great and my parents were really happy that I came home. So, it was a good day.

And Monday turned out to be awesome. I decided on a whim that since my sister had off from school, we would go into the city and go see the Harry Potter exhibition in Times Square. It had gotten fantastic reviews from a lot of people, but even if it had gotten bad reviews, we probably would have still gone. When it comes to HP, I'm a bit of a lifer. I've been pretty dedicated to it since I was thirteen. I went to book release parties. I went to national film release parties in NYC, I went to midnight showings on opening night. I've read the books at least 4 or 5 times each. When I say I like Harry Potter....I mean I REALLY LIKE Harry Potter. So, going to the exhibition was a bit of a reminiscence for me, too. And it turned out to be awesome. There were literally hundreds of authentic costumes and props used for the movies. Some of it was interactive, but since they were all actual props and costumes, we weren't allowed to take pictures or touch anything. Which was fine, really. I was just happy to be there. My sister might have been even happier than I was. Harry Potter has always been something we've bonded over because I read the books to her when she was younger (possibly against her will). So, it was really nice to spend the day with her and experience that together.

It was a good weekend. I didn't do anything extravagant, and most of the fun stuff happened by chance. This weekend reminded me to appreciate the simple joys in life. Sunshine on a hot summer day, a family dinner that comes few and far between, and the simple joy of reliving a fun pastime with other Potterheads and bonding with a sibling. These are things that make me smile, and I am grateful that God gave them all to me this weekend.

This job has me complaining a lot. I'm not proud of it. But I admit that I'm a complainer. I don't always see the blessings in my life, and I don't always show gratitude for what has been given to me. My mom even paid for the trip to the city yesterday. And she offered to cover my first month's rent in August because my job doesn't begin until September. I am so, so lucky to have a family that supports everything I want to do in my life. I am grateful to God for them, even if I don't always voice it.

So, that's the reflection for today. Enjoy the simple things, and show some gratitude for the little blessings along the way. Mischief managed!

Peace.

Thank God for Religious Tolerance?

Hello, world. Today's readings got me thinking about something. We're in the Easter season, and since it's before Pentecost, most of the readings are about the Acts of the Apostles: basically how they stood up for their faith, and how they were consequently put in jail and often killed for it. I've been reading passages like this for weeks now, but today it hit me a little differently. When I was reading Acts 14:19-28, there is a part that reads: “It is necessary for us to undergo many hardships to enter the Kingdom of God.” My immediate reaction was, "What a bunch of martyrs." And then, in a hilarious moment of realization, it dawned on me: they WERE martyrs! This whole melodramatic charade that Christians so often put on today about standing up for their faith is so vastly different from what it actually was in the very beginning. There's ALWAYS some Christian group protesting that they're suffering persecution in America because they can't pray in school or display the 10 Commandments on government property or overturn Roe v. Wade, etc. But really? Is that persecution? We live in a society that is incredibly generous and kind to the Christian populations. Christians haven't had to fight for religious freedom in this country for three hundred years. Somehow, I feel like those protestors are misusing the term martyr, and that we should really have a greater appreciation for our country, which allows us to worship peacefully.

Truth be told, we're the lucky ones. Our Muslim, Buddhist, Hindu, and to an extent, Jewish, brothers and sisters have not experience such comfort in their own religious practice. We pride ourselves on being a country that promotes religious tolerance, but really, only if that tolerance means that Christians are still in charge. How many stories have we heard, post 9/11, about mosques and Islamic centers being the epicenter of hate, bigotry, and cruel remarks? If that was a Catholic or mainline Protestant church, those haters would probably be arrested. So why aren't Muslims being granted the same rights?

I understand that there is a heightened sense of uncertainty with regard to Muslims, and most of it is due to ignorance and hate. I do not condone any group or organization that preaches violence, nor do I promote any "patriotic" group that only supports the mainstream Christian denominations. If you call yourself an American, then you should be standing up for those who are being persecuted for their beliefs. As citizens of the country (even if they're not citizens, they're still living here), they deserve to live in a safe and welcoming environment that our ancestors fought so hard to create.

There shouldn't be a hierarchy with whose religious tradition gets the most votes. The reality is that most of the country is some sort of Christian, but is that to say that the other percentage doesn't get a voice? That they don't deserve to worship and live and work safely, without fear of violence? It's a blatant hypocrisy in the face of the Constitution. And I'm not really a patriotic person. I love my country and I love that I have the freedom to worship God without my life being on the line. But that's only because I belong to the religion that the vast majority of the nation also subscribes to. So I'm speaking up for the others. The forgotten ones, the misunderstood ones, the victimizes ones. They have a voice.

And seriously...let's stop trying to argue that the 10 Commandments need to be plastered across every government lawn. Most of them are basic societal norms, anyway. We don't need Moses reminding us not to murder. Most of us just know that it's wrong. And in a nation that promotes religious tolerance, that means that a student should be allowed to read his or her own Bible in school...but it doesn't mean that a teacher should be teaching it as a holy text. That's what religious education is for. So, let's all chill out and remember why our country fought for this religious tolerance in the first place. The founding fathers weren't even traditional Christians...they were deists. So, none of this crap that America is only a Christian nation. George Washington didn't even believe that.

Alright, I'm done.

Peace.

Being Saved or Being a Saint

I have a confession to make.

I'm not the most traditional person when it comes to religion. Yes, I was raised as a Christian, and yes, I still consider myself one. But these days, I'm realizing more and more that my spirituality doesn't really fit into a prescribed definition that one tradition tells me is true. I find great value in my Catholic faith, and I also find it in my Protestant roots.

I like how Catholicism focuses so much on community, and how we are strengthened by one another, both emotionally and spiritually. I like how Catholicism has a rich history and always seeks to broaden and learn from past mistakes (sometimes.) I like how Catholicism appreciates the reverence in worshiping God, and how the simplicity of a lit candle in a dark sanctuary is sometimes all you need to have a transcendent experience. And I like how Catholicism is expressed differently with different cultures and different religious orders, because it seems to make room for people while also respecting their culture and way of life. It's something that many Protestant missionaries historically have not always done. Lastly, and probably most importantly, I love how Catholics (specifically, Franciscans) emphasize the inherent GOODNESS of the person. I find the Protestant view that humans are generally flawed pretty bothersome because I don't see anything that God has created as inherently sinful. How could the actions of two people, Adam and Eve, traditionally, affect the status of people's hearts and souls for the duration of the world? It just doesn't make sense to me. If God continually makes all things new and has infinite love and mercy, aren't we also created in that image and exhibit some of those inherently good characteristics? Alas, I digress.

There are lots of things I like about Protestants, too. I like how their faith in Jesus is so excited that they don't let anything else distract them...like traditions or regulations or extensive doctrine or what role the Saints have in their faith (I could go on). I like how they do youth ministry, and how they aren't afraid to get in the trenches and do very difficult evangelization...whereas many Catholics get very nervous with even the term itself. I like that they focus on a personal relationship with Jesus, and how scriptural authority reigns supreme over any proclamation that a council could make. On a lighter note, I love how they can form committees faster than a jackrabbit. There's a problem in the church? Form a committee! We need to raise money for a summer mission trip? Form a committee! There's a new family in town? Form a committee! And make a plate of cookies. Hospitality at its finest. On the flip side, the bureaucracy can also get in the way of making real change and can create some red tape, but for the most part, it creates a church that works like a well-oiled machine.

So, because of this, I'm kind of a spiritual mutt. I identify with Catholicism very strongly in some settings, but I do the same thing with Protestantism in other settings. It seems like as soon as I'm immersed in an entirely "Catholic or Bust" environment, I cling to my Protestant sensibilities. And as soon as I'm with a bunch of Protestants who bash Catholics, I find myself wanting to run out of the room screaming. So, what's a girl to do? Who knows.

But, you know, it's really alright. Really. Some people would go crazy at the dilemma of not knowing their own spiritual convictions, but I'm okay with it. I've spent this entire year learning to be okay with it. Most importantly, just because I'm a little confused right now does not mean that I'll be confused forever. God reveals God's Self in so many diverse ways throughout the world and within one's life...and that it something that I DO believe very strongly. So what if I don't understand the fullness of God's self-disclosure with humanity? I'm almost 150% sure that I'm not supposed to know that kind of stuff. So what if I don't understand Jesus' presence in the Eucharist, or which parts of the Bible can be taken literally and which parts should be more of a metaphor? I know that I have a degree in Theology, but all that tells me is that I am a person of questions learning from someone who has spent many more years asking those questions...and maybe wrote a book or two about it. I look forward to learning more Theology in the future, but I have no interest in finding answers, or proving one traditon's truth over another. After awhile, we all look pretty foolish, anyway.

So, I'm content with the search. Maybe that makes me a relativist, but I don't think it does. I just think it means that I recognize my own limited knowledge, and that I am yielding enough to God so that God can take over. I'm reminded of a part in "Eat Pray Love" when Richard from Texas tells Liz that if she only just got rid of all the stuff in her head, she would have so much room for the Spirit to rush in, for the universe to rush in, for God to rush in.

I'm ready, God. Let's go.

Peace.

Rocks into Bread

“I am the bread of life;
whoever comes to me will never hunger,
and whoever believes in me will never thirst." - John 6:35

This is today's reading, and it is probably one of the most beautiful themes in all of the Gospel messages. It speaks to Jesus' power to nourish us, to sustain us, to bring us to life and to lead us into a new sense of being. Isn't that what Easter is all about? That, even though we thought it was all over, it wasn't? That, even amidst the deepest tomb, lies new life? I know that I talk about this a lot in my entries, but it's because I think it's one of the most important tenants of Christianity, and it's what distinguishes Christians from people of other faiths who do not believe in the Resurrection. Jesus is the bread of life: He is the source of our being. Think about that. He's saying here that without Him...we don't have life. We are dead. What a powerful statement.

I have a rock on my cubicle that's been there since I moved in on August 22nd. It's a small, round stone with a carving of a sun and the phrase, "Rocks into bread." It was given to me as a gift from a priest and mentor at St. Bonaventure University, someone who guided me through my college years and challenged me to become more than I what thought I could be. We had been on a retreat with alumni, sharing our experiences as students of Bonaventure, an identity that thousands of people hold near and dear to their hearts. And this rock, "Rocks into bread" reflects the theme for that retreat: that God can take what does not appear to be living...and make it alive. That God makes all things new. That, no matter what we do or who we are or what our reputations tell ourselves and others, God always wants to begin anew. And God can take something that looks messy and turn it into a beautiful piece of art.

I've kept this rock at my cubicle the entire year because it's something that I need reminding of every day. I am not perfect, and my year as a youth minister has not been ideal at times. But I operate with the confidence that God is with me, guiding me, making the ordinary extraordinary. God has turned rocks into bread. What an incredible thing! I am blessed to be reminded of that so often.

So, during this Easter season (yes, we are still in the Easter season), remember that God wants to renew you. Even if you don't need much renewing, or even if you think that you need so much work that it's impossible to fix. Know that God wants to renew you, and that God has already started that work.

"I am confident in this, that the one who began a good work in you will continue to complete it until the day of Christ Jesus." - Philippians 1:6

Until then, I guess I'll be unfinished. Peace.

Biblical Logic Geometry

The one who comes from above is above all.
The one who is of the earth is earthly and speaks of earthly things.
But the one who comes from heaven is above all.
He testifies to what he has seen and heard,
but no one accepts his testimony.
Whoever does accept his testimony certifies that God is trustworthy.
For the one whom God sent speaks the words of God.
He does not ration his gift of the Spirit.
The Father loves the Son and has given everything over to him.
Whoever believes in the Son has eternal life,
but whoever disobeys the Son will not see life,
but the wrath of God remains upon him. - Jn 3:31-36


The Gospel is John is today's Gospel reading for the day, and I have to admit, it's not always one of my favorites to read. John is metaphysical, confusing, and tends to speak in logical circles. In fact, whenever I read a passage like this one, I feel like someone is trying to blindside me with a verbose narrative. But basically, this is what I got out of it: The things of this world speak only of this world. But the things of heaven speak of heavenly things. The one sent from heaven is sent from God, and speaks of things from God. Whoever believes in the one from God therefore believes in God. Whoever does not believe in the one from God also rejects God, and therefore loses eternal life.

It sounds pretty direct, but I struggle with it. Does this passage simply mean that Jesus is the one and only One sent from God? Does Jesus solely point the way to God? If someone does not follow Jesus, but believes that they are following God...are they mistaken? Are they condemned?

"The one whom God sent speaks the words of God." So, that would include Jesus, obviously. But what about the OT prophets? They spoke the words of God, or so they believed. Is the Jewish belief in the prophets less valid than our belief in Jesus? Can they both be valid? I feel like we can't reject OT prophets because they are a pretty integral part of how we have evolved as Christians. Okay, so the OT prophets are valid because they spoke the words of God. What about Muhammad? He was almost killed because he insisted on belief in the One God, Allah. He's considered "the last prophet" because he finished up the picture that Judaism and Christianity were painting with the prophets and Jesus. He sincerely believed that he was also speaking the words of God, and his followers believed that, too. So, are Muslims sorely mistaken because they followed a false prophet? Or was Muhammad preaching the same message that the OT prophets preached about loyalty to the One God? Even Jesus said it: "You have but One Father..." They seem like pretty consistent claims.

Now, I know that Muhammad also preached that he was the final prophet, and that the stories of the OT prophets and Christianity are incomplete, which definitely goes against the first two faiths. But with so many Christians interpreting this passage as referring solely to Jesus...it seems that it's a bit of a gross generalization. I'm not saying that all religious claims are 100% valid, nor am I equating the three monotheistic faiths as holding the exact same beliefs. I'm just saying that maybe there have been people throughout history who have "spoken the words of God" who weren't just Jesus, and they they, too, spoke truths. So, with that logic, wouldn't it be true that the followers of those "prophets" (for lack of a better term) are also eligible for eternal life with God?

This is all well and good until the last part of the passage, which speaks about those not believing in the Son and their eternal punishment. I read that and my skeptical mind immediately just sees that as a product of interpretation and belief bias. Of course the writer of the Gospel would say that: he was a Christian! He believed it to be true, so he wrote it. I believe that the Gospel writers had sincere hearts and attempted to repaint the picture of Jesus in an accurate way, but John was written nearly 70 years after the Crucifixion. The original 12 weren't even alive by the time it was finally put on paper (or parchment, whatever.) So we have to assume that there's some in-discrepancy when it comes to the interpretation of Jesus' words, since they're not coming from a firsthand source. I'm not saying that the words weren't inspired by God, but I am saying that they were written by a human being with an agenda, which is only natural. But it makes me wonder what Jesus actually said and what was simply written down to strengthen the case of Christianity.

I would like to believe that several faiths hold eternal truths, and that Christianity is more like looking at a piece of the larger puzzle. Who are we to assume that we hold the entire Eternal Truth in our dinky little faith? That seems to be more in the business of being God, and we do much better being humans. I don't know the answers, and actually, neither do you. But it's just some food for thought.

Peace.

Love Your Enemies

Love for Enemies
43 “You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor[a] and hate your enemy.’ 44 But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, 45 that you may be children of your Father in heaven. He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. 46 If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Are not even the tax collectors doing that? 47 And if you greet only your own people, what are you doing more than others? Do not even pagans do that? 48 Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.


Sounds pretty clear to me, but yesterday's news of Osama bin Laden's death proves that this is a tricky commandment to follow. When Jesus said this, He didn't attach conditions. He didn't say, "Love your enemies, except for global terrorists." Granted, they didn't have global terrorists in 1st century Palestine, but you get the idea. Jesus called us to a difficult path. We are called to forgive those who hurt us. Watching the news last night with everyone celebrating, singing, and dancing in the streets...it saddened me. I understand and appreciate the excitement and joy that people feel, but I think it's misguided. From a practical standpoint, bin Laden's death does not mark the end of the war (though I wish it was that easy). We can't let our arrogence as Americans distract us from potential repercussions from al-Quaeda. It's our pride that's always been our downfall, and I saw a whole lot of that on tv last night.

But on a moral level, last night's celebrations disturbed me. Seeing the headline, "Osama bin Laden is dead"...I didn't even have a reaction. I just observed the reactions of others. All of these people who claim to be Christians, all these people who fight for the unborn and protest the existence of the death penalty...these people were celebrating the death of one man. This man did awful things, and no one denies that. He was responsible for a huge amount of sadness and pain for thousands, and even millions, of people. But how is his death more justified than a man who raped and killed teenage girls who now faces the death penalty? There are plenty of people who would protest that execution, but somehow feel that bin Laden's death is justified. To the families of the murdered teenage girls, I'm sure that they feel the same, if not more, pain than the American people with regard to the terrorist attacks.

So, what's the difference? Why can we rejoice over this death? The answer is that we can't. I can't. As a Christian and as a human being, I cannot rejoice over the death of a person and the end of a human life, no matter what heinous crimes that person committed. I am praying for Osama bin Laden. I am praying for God to give him mercy and grace and forgiveness. Most of all, I am praying for an end to war and violence. I am praying that we may grow closer together a global community and work together for a more peaceful future.

Osama bin Laden was a child of God, no matter what anyone else may say. Jesus died for him, and because of this, he was my brother. I grieve for his loss of life like I would grieve for anyone else's. Maybe I'm a little misguided because I haven't been "personally affected" by the 9/11 attacks. But am I not an American? Am I not a New Yorker? Did I not grieve with the rest of my country on that sad day? You don't have to be "personally affected" in order to be affected in a personal way.

My prayers for bin Laden are not some pretentious, holier-than-thou attempt to prove my moral superiority over those who proclaimed "Osama: Rot in Hell!" Instead, I am trying to live out my faith the best I can in the wake of modernity. I can't tell anyone else what to feel or how to react or what to believe. But I pray that this event opens up the doors for communication, dialogue, and a greater understanding of one another. I am deeply grateful for President Obama's remarks last night when he said that "we were never against Islam. Osama bin Laden was not a follower of Islam." Too often, people tragically equate bin Laden's crimes with spiritual laws of Islam, and I hope that we can all be more open to being educated in the future with regard to these matters. It's something that gives me a lot of passion and energy because one of the worst things to be in this world is ignorant when you have all the opportunities to not be.

So, I'll stop ranting. Love your enemies and pray for your persecutors...even if it might be the hardest thing you'll ever do.

Peace. السلام الآن

Doubting Liz

I admit that the following reflection is not completely my own, but rather a reflection based on another blog that I just read: Feminist Theology in an Age of Fear and Hope. I love reading those women's blogs because they so often speak to the sittings in my own heart. That being said...

Today's readings are not what the Church has deemed as today's readings, but I'm reflecting on them anyway. They're subsequent reflections on the Resurrection story. The first reading is that rallying speech given by Peter to the potential converts. He really speaks from his heart, and it's one of my favorite moments for Peter because he seems to be redeeming himself after his initial betrayal. This is where we see the Peter whom the Church has raised to sainthood, the Peter who is credited with being the first Pope (depending on your interpretation, naturally.) And he's smart, too: he references David, which most likely won over tons of Jews because David was a bit of a Jewish rockstar in Old Testament scripture. And although in my previous post, I admitted to struggling with the question of numbers, I do like this passage because it reads as a positive speech to me. Yes, it ends with tons of people being "added" to the cause, but I know that it goes deeper than that. Peter sincerely hopes for the future, and he also sincerely believes that Jesus will be coming back fairly soon. Well, Jesus didn't come back, but it hasn't stopped two-thousand years of hopeful followers from spreading His message. And you know, it doesn't always have to be in the way that Peter did it. I spread Jesus' message through sacrament prep, service trips, and youth outreach. Peter spread it through riveting speeches and emotional testimonies. Different people do it different ways, and that's fine with me. Now, I worry about the extremists who use scare tactics and intimidation to spread Christianity...but that's a post for another time.

The feminist theologians got me thinking about another aspect of the readings: both the Acts reading and the Psalm (16) are really focused on strengthening faith and staying strong amidst danger and opposition. Well, that's all well and good...except the Gospel does the exact opposite! It's the story of Doubting Thomas, who insisted on seeing proof that Jesus was alive. I know of a lot of people who criticize and mock Thomas because of his lack of faith, but in reality...isn't that what the spiritual journey is all about? My theological education and personal life experience have given me the mindset that without doubt, there can be no faith. Without uncertainty, there can be no conversion and transformation. So, really, Thomas is just being honest. He's recognizing his own human limitation and admitting that he isn't so sure about the Resurrection. And to be honest, I agree with him. First century Jews did not believe in resurrection of the body (who does, anyway?) so the idea of Jesus being raised from the dead was as incredulous then as it would be today.

I like Thomas. I like him because he's real. He knows that he isn't perfect, and he isn't even the first one to admit doubt about the Resurrection. I can relate to him because my own faith life has been colored by doubt for years. I know that I am a believer in God, and that the power of Jesus to heal and change hearts is very near and dear to my heart. But there are lots of things in scripture and tradition and don't really fit into my picture of spiritual truth. Was Mary really a virgin AFTER she gave birth to Jesus? And in the grand scheme of things...does that really matter? Is transubstantiation a legitimate experience, or is it the product of faulty interpretation? How come some evangelicals argue for a literal interpretation of the Bible, but don't believe that Jesus literally became the bread and wine at the last Passover? Is Jesus really the only way to get into heaven? What is heaven, exactly? Is it possible to spend eternity without God, when God is in all things? (That's the Jesuit in me.)

See! Lots of doubts. But does that make me a bad Christian? Well, some would argue yes. But I would argue that I'm simply an educated woman living in 21st century America, and it's impossible not to have questions about a faith as ancient as Christianity. So, Doubting Thomas, fear not. I don't hate you, and neither does Jesus.

Hebrews 11:1 says that faith is the "assurance of what we hope for and the certainty of what we do not see." I would love to have that faith. But since I'm not there yet, I need to just keep believing and keep trying. I have the assurance that I am deeply loved by God, and that's really the only thing I need to know right now. As for all the other questions...maybe one day they'll make sense. And then maybe I'll never figure them out. I'm really okay with it.

Peace.

Any Other Road

In honor of my favorite Bible passage today, I am going to post this guided meditation that I used for my youth group on Sunday. It's based on today's reading: Luke 24:13-35, the Road to Emmaus. If you're unfamiliar with the passage, please read it first before continuing with the meditation...

Guided Meditation (not mine!)

It looks like any other road
this road that we are walking today.
I invite you to close your eyes
sit up straight with your feet on the floor,
be comfortable.
Breathe in deeply, and out slowly.
Do you see the road?

What kind of road is it?

What do you see?

What do you hear?

Are there other people on the road?

What is the weather like?

How fast do you want to walk today?

Leave the city, one foot in front of the other,
sandals patting down dust,
even as grief washes from head to toe.
Nothing went the way we thought.
And today's news is even more unbelievable than last week's.

alive?
is it possible?
why can't I see him?

One foot in front of the other,
walking home,
on just another road,
any road - it doesn't matter now.
Nothing matters - no journey will ever be the same without him.
but where is he?

Just another road,
like any other road.
Can you see it?
One foot in front of the other,
on the road again,
but alone this time.

A stranger comes alongside you.
Do you talk to strangers?

He walks near you for a ways,
in comfortable silence...
and then asks the question:
what are you thinking about?

What will you tell him?
What are you thinking about?
It's been an amazing three years -
healings,
miracles,
parables,
feeding people,
restoring community,
telling stories,
loving outcasts.
Which story to tell?

Think of your favorite story about Jesus.
Tell is to this stranger as you walk along this dusty road,
one foot in front of the other.

...

This stranger listens well,
he asks questions,
he nods in all the right places,
and he can tell that the story makes you both excited and sad.

As you finish telling your story,
you mention that it doesn't make much sense.
Things seemed to be going so well until that last night,
that last dinner,
that Passover Party.
That's when the real questions began.
Sure, other things didn't always make sense...
but broken body, life poured out,
arrested,
beaten,
crucified,
killed...
and now alive again?

...

The stranger looks at you as you walk down the road,
thinking out loud.
What are your questions?
Keep wondering out loud together as you walk,
one foot in front of the other,
through the dust,
wondering.

...

As you come to the end of your questions,
your voice trails off
and both of you stare down the road,
walking slowly together.
Then this stranger begins to tell a story of his own...
but it's a story you know well,
except this time it begins to make a little bit of sense.
Just a little bit.
Grief and confusion are still there,
but now there's something new...
something warm...
something blooming in the desert.
Listen -
what story is he telling you?

...

As he finishes his story,
you look up and realize you're almost home.
You've just met this strange man,
this storyteller,
this listener,
this fellow traveler,
but you invite him in for dinner.
There's something about him...
As you sit down at the table,
he offers thanks for a journey safely completed,
for new friends,
for hospitality,
for a simple meal of bread and cheese.

and as he takes some bread and offers you a piece,
you see.
He's been with you all along,
transforming the journey,
making it part of the story,
part of God's story,
part of our journey together.
On the road,
an ordinary road,
any road like any other,
yet unlike any other.

He's alive!
is it possible?
You see him!
Hurry, on the road again...
What will you tell the others?


Peace.

Courage Under Persecution

Happy Easter! I read today's readings and didn't really care for the first one. Something about the last phrase, "And about three thousand persons were added that say" seems more like cattle in a county fair than baptized people in a community. It makes me wonder: did the early disciples see it as a transformative experience, or was it all about the numbers? Surely it was a mix of both: more numbers means more legitimation, and more legitimation means less persecution. But I wonder if Christians today get caught up in the number of people they're "saving", and lose sight of the bigger picture. We're not even the ones who do the saving. God does the saving. We're supposed to be the ones who point the way to that power. I always try to keep that in mind when I'm doing my youth ministry. It's very tempting to take credit when a young person has a conversion experience, or when you can boast that your youth group does the most activities in a year. But in the end, it's not really about what WE do. It's what GOD does. We need to remember that we are just the clay in the hands of the potter. We are malleable and usable and willing to become whatever God calls us to be. If we are instrumental in spreading God's goodness throughout our communities, good. But we shouldn't be acting like we're doing it all on our own.

The second reading is one of my favorites for the Easter season. It's when Mary Magdalene discovers the empty tomb and then demands the "gardener" to reveal where he has laid Jesus. Mary Magdalene may be my favorite character in the Bible (apart from Jesus) simply because of her moral courage. The Church has finally cleared up her name and no longer holds that she was the same prostitute from the stoning episode, but she still doesn't have the same respect that is due her. She sees a man who she believes is the gardener, and she has the moxie to ask him where he has put Jesus, so that she can take care of his body. A woman! Asking a total stranger! She was upset and probably came across as being accusatory, so she probably wasn't the most polite at this time. But as soon as she realizes that it's Jesus, she crumples in the most beautiful symbol of devotion and love. She calls him "Rabbouni", which means "teacher." And when I read that, I imagine it as something she would call a close friend, someone she loved. It's a beautiful moment of realization for her, and it probably transformed her even more than she already had experienced.

And what's more: after seeing Jesus, she runs back and tells the apostles about the Resurrection. Not many would have believed her, and she was risking her own sanity and safety by spreading this news. But she did it because she saw the bigger picture. I hope that I can be brave in my faith, and that I won't be afraid to tell others about the joy of the Resurrection. May we all have bold courage like Mary Magdalene, and may we always see Jesus in a new way that has us overflowing in joy and excitement.

Peace.

New Life

1 On the first day of the week, very early in the morning, the women took the spices they had prepared and went to the tomb. 2 They found the stone rolled away from the tomb, 3 but when they entered, they did not find the body of the Lord Jesus. 4 While they were wondering about this, suddenly two men in clothes that gleamed like lightning stood beside them. 5 In their fright the women bowed down with their faces to the ground, but the men said to them, “Why do you look for the living among the dead? 6 He is not here; he has risen!"

This is my favorite epic story of all time. It illuminates for us our deepest hopes and dreams coming true. What was dead...is now alive! And it's not just a story about a guy who came back to life. We, too, are born anew. We, too, are a new creation. We, too, are given another opportunity to grow in relationship with our great God. Easter has always been my favorite holiday because it illustrates the hope for the world.

My other favorite part of this story is that He appeared to the WOMEN! This is noticeably different than say, every other narrative of that time, since women were seen as creatures barely above animals. But Jesus specifically appeared to the women because they were the ones who stayed. When all his disciples fled and ran into hiding for fear of persecution, the women stayed because they knew that they had a job to do. The women risked their lives out of love for their Lord. And Jesus recognized their good faith. I hope that I can be like Mary Magdalene and have the courage to tell others about the great miracle I have seen. Bravo to those brave ladies!

Happy Easter, everyone. Go and spread Christ's love to all you meet.

Peace.

He Gave Me My Name

Because this is Holy Week, the Gospel reading today is a very well-known one: Jesus is reclining at table with his disciples during the Passover meal, and he initiates what is to come: that one of his beloved followers will soon betray him, and that he will be handed over, tortured, and crucified. And as much as Judas denies this betrayal and as much as the other disciples swear to stand by Jesus, we all know how the story goes. Judas betrays, the others abandon. The story seems to lost all hope. Luckily for us, we have about 2,000 years of experience to know that this was NOT the end of the story, but the beginning. After the deepest experience of rejection comes the most profound experience of rebirth and new life. And that's what makes the tough stuff so much more bearable.

I really like the first reading, too. It's taken from Isaiah, and the author is speaking to the great mercy and presence of God. "The Lord called me from birth, from my mother's womb he called me by name." How beautiful! We are a part of God's heart from our very beginnings. In fact, even before we are born...we are His. I would argue that Judas also held this beautiful title, even if he didn't know it or appreciate it. God loves us all so deeply, that it doesn't matter what we do because it can never separate us from that love. We can be nothing short of angels or the worst betrayer, but we are all equally perfect in God's eyes.

Though I thought I had toiled in vain,
and for nothing, uselessly, spent my strength,
Yet my reward is with the Lord,
my recompense is with my God.

This reminds me of the road to Emmaus. The disciples "thought" that Jesus had been the one to redeem Israel, but their hope had left them. The prophet Isaiah thought that his pain and suffering was for nothing. The disciples thought that Jesus was dead. They thought that it had all become useless. Yet...there is more to the story. My roommate gave me an inspirational quote that paraphrases something like this: "Just when the caterpillar thought the world was over, it turned into a butterfly." What an amazing idea. It is at our lowest point, the dark nights of the soul, where God swoops in and takes over. It's only when we cannot do it anymore on our own that the Spirit rushes in.

There's something great about God taking over at the last second, like a final surprise act. If God had just taken over from the beginning, I feel like we would lose a lot of our gratitude. We wouldn't realize everything that God has done for us, and the message would get messed up. We would then EXPECT God to do everything so that we didn't have to. But no. We have to be willing to work and sacrifice and suffer a little bit, so that God can save us from that suffering. Some people may find that crazy, and I would never justify evil acts so that people can "learn valuable lessons" about the ways of the world. But I love how God lets us experience a little bit of our own humanity before making all things new. It enables us to grow without even knowing it. Now that's a good teacher.

Keep enjoying Holy Week. Be open to the workings of the Spirit.

Peace,
Liz

Holy Week

Holy Week is one of my favorite times of the whole year. Believe it or not, I actually prefer Easter to Christmas! I'm a bad consumer, I guess. I have loved Easter especially over the last few years because they have always seemed to be a time of great healing and contemplation for me. The Paschal Mystery is a thread that seems to run through the undercurrents of my life lately, and I can relate very deeply to it. The idea of dying to self, or dying to the hurt, or the pain, or to weakness...in order for us to be reborn in Christ's love...how beautiful is that?! It's probably my one of my favorite aspects of Christian theology, and I really do love how Catholicism takes it pretty seriously.

Tonight I was reflecting on Palm Sunday, and where I was a year ago today. I was listening to the Palm Sunday Mass at my alma mater, given by my favorite professor who also happens to be a friar. I can't honestly say that I remember what he said during his message, but I can remember the feeling of peace and serenity that came with that Mass, and the feeling of being totally and completely at home. I also remember feeling sad that my time with that community was quickly coming to an end, so my Holy Week was, once again, deeply personal as I died to that part of my life and my experience.

It got me thinking tonight about how our life experiences change so quickly. Last year, I was being ministered to and all I had to do was sit back and listen. This year, I was giving a major witness talk about my life to a group of high school seniors, and helping to plan and execute a Living Stations of the Cross to a gathering of over 100 people. God was clearly working through both experiences, but this year, I was on the front lines of the ministry. I miss being ministered to, but it's been an important learning experience this year to be the one doing the ministry. It's what I'm called to, so I am grateful for it. It's certainly not always easy...but it's where my heart's at, so it's worth it.

I realize that I am almost entirely driven by emotion when it comes to these reflections. Then again, Holy Week is also very emotion-driven. Non-Catholics often criticize the Church for guilt-tripping people through the week, making them feel awful for crucifying Christ. I can understand that accusation, but I actually appreciate the emotional connection that we make to Scripture. It's one thing to read it, and it's quite another to see it acted out, meditate on it, sing about it, etc. There are many things that I do not appreciate about the Church, but I commend it on its ability to deeply appreciate and love the sacrifice that Christ made, and that it's something that is not taken lightly or easily forgotten.

To close, I'll post a quote that I wrote up today for the ministry website: "“My God, My God, why have You forsaken me?” This famous scripture reveals the deep hurt and pain that Jesus endured while dying on the cross for us. Fully human and fully divine, Jesus understood all too well the feeling of being abandoned and rejected. We, as Christians, can place our trust in the love of Christ, who emptied Himself to the point of death for us. This Holy Week, I am trying to be more prayerfully aware of Christ's great sacrifice for me and for all humanity."

Peace to you all during this Holy Week.

Liz

The One Who Sent Me is With Me

Today's Gospel reading is one of my current favorites. It's not something that I usually think about, but it struck a chord with me today, so I'd like to share it. Let me preface this by saying that the first readings talks about the people complaining in the desert about how God had seemingly abandoned them...and then God sent a serpent to kill a whole bunch of them for their insolence. Nice. Not exactly what I imagine my good, loving, "Christian" God to act like. Then again, I wonder how I would feel if my children only complained about the food and the atmosphere after I saved their lives. I would probably be angry, too. The moral of the story is that they repent, and God resurrects those who He had killed.

This brings us to the Gospel (John 8:21-30). Jesus is speaking about his divine origination as the Son of God, something that happens most often in the Gospel of John and almost never in the other three Gospels. Jesus is telling his disciples, "Where I am going, you cannot come." This made them immediately think that Jesus was contemplating suicide, since that would probably cause him to go to hell, according to Jewish tradition. But instead, Jesus launches into this discussion about how He does not belong to "this world." Instead, he belongs to His Father's Kingdom.

Jesus had every opportunity to take advantage of his audience, here. He had fame, He had the power of persuasion, and He had the listening ears of hundreds and even thousands of eager followers. He could have made a statement right then and there that He was the autonomous God, and that He derived His power from no other source. But that's not what he does. He uses his advantage to point to the One who gave Him every kind of power. He points to God. "I do nothing on my own, but I say only what the Father has taught me." Wow. That's humility at its finest, if I ever saw it. I am realizing as a youth minister that it is not always easy to point everything back to God. I have experienced moments of weakness, where I let my pride speak for me, instead of letting the Spirit speak for me. There are times when I want to take credit for the great witness talk I wrote, or for the awesome youth group meeting I just planned. But deep down inside, I know that I would be nowhere without God. And Jesus realized this, too.

"The one who sent me is with me." What a beautiful phrase. We are sent by God, but we are never abandoned. God doesn't send us out into the world to do His bidding so that He can sit back and watch us be fed to the wolves. Instead, God sends us and then STAYS with us. God is present in the deepest part of our human experience: through the most profound joys as well as the most inexplicable pain. what an extraordinary concept. Maybe that's why God was so angry at the Israelites in the desert. They had forgotten where they came from. They had forgotten that God was providing everything to them, and that they didn't need to be complaining. Maybe we're all a little guilty of that. I don't think that complaining is always the worst thing we can do. Sometimes, it's the only thing we can do because something just doesn't seem fair. But these readings remind us that God has never abandoned us, and everything we have...we owe back to God.

Think about that next time you want to blame God for an unfortunate circumstance. If you are working through the muck with a trusting heart, then you're probably doing it right. And no one's perfect. I find myself trusting God completely some days, and on other days...well, it's a different story. But I've learned to take my own spiritual journey a day at a time, and it seems to be going pretty well so far.

"If God seems distant, who moved?" Recognize the work of God in your life, and stay faithful to that reality. And maybe the complaining will slow down after all.

Peace.

God's Work!

It has been a fantastic weekend, and I'm feeling really grateful for a lot of reasons. A few weeks ago, my uncle had major surgery for long cancer, and last week my brother and I went to visit him in the SICU. I was pretty apprehensive about it, since I knew it might be a little awkward and a little scary seeing my uncle with tubes coming out of him. Even though my parents are nurses and I'm generally comfortable with hospitals, I've never really had to see a family member in the hospital. Anyway, I'm really glad that I ended up visiting. We had small talk, and my uncle was a very good sport about it all. He's usually the first to complain about something, but he seemed to be much calmer, knowing that his life was in someone else's hands. It was an interesting thing to witness. I felt a closeness to and a gratitude for his presence, and it's been a long time coming.

Then on Friday, I helped cook breakfast and lunch for the girls' retreat, which was great. I always get a lot of joy out of serving meals, and the gratitude that they had for the volunteers was overwhelming. It reinforced my ministry for me, which was a good feeling. Friday night, I got to spend some time at home and dress shopping with my mother and sister. Then, Saturday my sister and I spent the whole day together, walking around town and then going to a concert together. Lastly, this afternoon, I went to her dance recital, which was bittersweet for me. I used to be a dancer, and it was a little sad to see my baby sister in her very last dance recital. It was a cool moment, though.

The best part of the weekend, however, was my youth group meeting tonight. One of my girls was on the retreat this weekend, and I was a little nervous that she wouldn't get anything out of it. She doesn't usually speak during meetings, and she doesn't ever seem very interested in what we're doing, so I wasn't sure what a 4-day encounter style retreat would do for her. But here's the amazing thing: she wouldn't shut up about it! She was telling EVERYONE about how awesome the retreat was, and how she grew to love her "sisters" in Christ...and how she finally felt how deeply God loved her.

Wow! Here I am, worrying that she wouldn't like the retreat, and God surprises me again. He worked through the team, the people mentoring her, and the elements of the retreat to speak to her. She felt His love and His presence, and it was so beautiful to hear her reflect on it. When she talked about the retreat, her eyes lit up. It was like the Spirit came alive in her. It was such a proud moment for me as a youth minister, seeing a transformation like that. It made me remember my first retreat, and how the Spirit worked through me. I remember telling MY youth group about it, and trying to explain the unexplainable. It was a great moment for me, and I felt like she and I bonded over this experience...even though I wasn't on the retreat, I understood what she felt, because I've felt it before. And the best part is that she is now planning on attending a leadership training retreat so that she can be on the next retreat as a leader. And she wants to do our summer mission trip, too.

God is so, so good. That's really the point of this post. I so often forget that God works wonders in our lives. And it's not always a big deal...sometimes, it's the little things. I felt the presence of God both at my sister's dance recital and during youth group tonight. I feel it on the top of a mountain overlooking the Hudson Valley while also feeling it serving food to hungry retreatants. That's the beauty of God: He is everywhere. Not only is He everywhere: He just Is. He is the underlying current supporting our very humble human experience. God is the peace in the storm while at the same time being the catalyst that begins a spiritual revolution.

That's a God that I believe in. And He is good...all the time. May you see the presence of God in the ordinary and extraordinary of your lives.

Peace.

DO NOT WORRY!!

It's been a few days since my last post and I apologize for that (even though no one is really reading this...) I just spent the last three days in the great city of Boston, exploring the place where I will be spending the next three years as a student at BC. I have to say that I was very impressed, and I'm really starting to get excited for the next chapter in my life.

A lot of what we talked about were specifics about living in Boston, i.e. apartment hunting, paying rent, financial aid, laundry and groceries, etc. It's all a pretty new concept to me since my undergraduate experience was in rural Western NY with ample parking, low costs, and little traffic. This will all be a new experience for me, and I would be lying if I said that I wasn't nervous about it. I tend to get very stressed about the little details. It's in these moments that I worry if God is really as big as my problems.

We are called to leave our worries behind, and to not worry about what we will eat and drink and wear and where we will live. But forgive me if I don't believe that God will suddenly come down from heaven and give me rent money. I have faith that God will give me the opportunities that will allow me to support myself, but it doesn't stop me from stressing out. I think that the next six months are going to be a really big test of my faith.

There's not really a big spiritual lesson in this post. I'm just thinking and musing and praying. "Be still and know that I AM God."

Peace.

All Forgiveness Created Equal?

Today's reading was interesting to me. It's a passage that I've heard before, but something new stuck out to me this time around. It's the parable that Jesus tells about forgiving one's neighbor "seventy times seven times", and then he goes on about the man who owed a great debt that was forgiven, but then did not forgive the debt that someone else owed to him. I understand the point of it: forgive as you are forgiven. Love as you are loved. But this parable seems to make light of the issue of forgiveness itself.

Forgiveness in this parable is likened to a financial burden. Someone owed a huge amount, and the debt was erased. Then someone else owed a smaller amount, and it was considered unforgiveable by the servant. God calls us to forgive, no matter what the grievance. But is it really as easy as vanishing a financial debt?

I have struggled a lot in my life with forgiveness, especially because there are some people who we come across who really don't seem to "deserve" our forgiveness or benefit from the act of being forgiven. Does God expect me to forgive my sister for staining my dress in the same sense that I would forgive my boyfriend for cheating on me? There are definitely levels of forgiveness, just like there are levels of grievances. Forgiveness takes time, and it should never be faked or rushed. It's a terrible feeling to say that you've forgiven someone, only to habor hate and resentment in your heart for months and even years afterward.

When we carry around that load of bitterness, we do ourselves a disservice. It took me a very long time for me to realize that my anger toward my ex-boyfriend really didn't affect him at all. He had graduated from college and moved on to a new life with a new girlfriend and a new chapter. I, on the other hand, grew more and more angry at a situation that no longer existed, at a person who was no longer in my life. My anger only hurt me in the end. It was this realization that finally caused me to forgive him. I didn't forgive him for his own sake; he didn't really seem to care about that. I forgave him for my own sake. For my own sense of peace and self-respect.

Forgiveness isn't about the sin. It's about the one who was sinned against. It's not about who did what, and who's to blame for what problem. It's about learning to let experiences be, just as they are, and learning to find peace with that. Forgiveness doesn't mean "fixing" the problem. It means allowing it to be a little bit broken and moving forward to a better tomorrow. I'm not saying that we should never try to reconcile....reconciliation is one of the most powerful human experiences that we can ever have. But the reality is that it's just not always possible, and we need to be OKAY with that. I think that may be my biggest struggle when it comes to forgiveness. I want to make things right. I want the forgiveness to be a catalyst that ultimately leads to the perpetrator coming back to me, apologetic and begging for mercy, and I have the decency to allow him back in my life.

It doesn't always work like that, kids. And everyone knows that. That is why forgiveness always needs to be heartfelt, and it should not expect anything in return. Sure, it would be great if the one who is forgiven realizes why they're being forgiven. It would be great if remorse was involved. But we need to be content with the reality that no situation is perfect, especially when it comes to forgiving a great wrong.

Jesus calls us to forgive. It's not this pious notion of this ideal way to live where everyone gets along and no one is hurt and love conquers all. Forgiveness is messy. And it takes a long time. Jesus never called us to an easy journey...but it's ultimately the journey that leads us to a greater and deeper relationship with God.

Forgive your brother from your heart...not your pride.

Peace.

God's Constancy

My devotional from a few days ago really struck me. The first sentence read, "This is the time in your life when you must learn to let go." I feel that this statement has been both a blessing and a curse over the last three years. "Letting go" has never really been one of my strongest suits, as I have struggled pretty seriously over a broken heart more than once. Letting go has never come easily, since I am, by nature, a person who seeks reconciliation and peace. Letting go always seems like a defeat, an end to something with no closure, no peace. Letting go seems like dying.

But I have learned that in order to live and love again, I need to let go. A very wise professor/mentor of mine once told me that in order to honor my love for the boy who no longer loved me, I needed to let him go. I needed to let him live his own life while respecting myself enough to live mine. It was one of the most powerful things that anyone has ever said to me, and I hold it close to my heart today.

The devotional continues to say: "You can feel secure, even in the midst of cataclysmic changes, through awareness of My continual Presence. The One who never leaves you is the same One who never changes. I am the same yesterday, today, and forever. As you release more and more things into My care, remember that I never let go of your hand. Herein lies your security, which no one and no circumstance can take from you."

Now, I'm not here to take credit for someone else's musings, but that is a beautiful idea. We need to let go of past hurts, past brokenness, and past blame...but God never lets go of us! Even if we have hurt God, even if we have refused a relationship with God, God never lets us go. One of my favorite praise songs from camp is "You Never Let Go." It's simple, but powerful. It reiterates for us how deeply God's love runs. His love can withstand any grievance and any offense...and then God loves us MORE. It's remarkable.

During this season of Lent, I am trying to meditate on God's love. I'm not much for fatalism, or for dwelling too much of Christ's passion (I know, what a bad Catholic.) But I am trying more these days to focus on Christ's sacrifice. I'm still not sure where I stand on my atonement theology, and if Jesus really was sent down to earth as a Plan B of sorts (that will be for another post...) But I am sure one of thing: regardless of human action, God's love for us never fades. Whether we are perfect disciples who all bring incredible things to the human experience, or whether we are the ones whom society has forgotten...God's love never changes. My own love for myself changes on a daily basis, but it's good to know that God isn't that insecure or fickle.

For I am the LORD your God
who takes hold of your right hand
and says to you, Do not fear;
I will help you. - Isaiah 41:13

Awesome. Peace.