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Be Found

“Jesus was teaching in a synagogue on the sabbath.
And a woman was there who for eighteen years
had been crippled by a spirit;
she was bent over, completely incapable of standing erect.
When Jesus saw her, he called to her and said,
“Woman, you are set free of your infirmity.”
He laid his hands on her,
and she at once stood up straight and glorified God.” (Luke 13:10-13)

Eighteen years. Whoa. Can you imagine her suffering? The demon had caused her such pain and grief that her whole body was crippled under the weight of it all. She couldn’t even stand up properly.

There is so much we can learn from this woman.

First of all, she was in the right place. She was in the synagogue, the Lord’s house. She was praying. The woman turned to God for healing. We don’t know her full story, but I would imagine it would’ve been tempting for her to have given up long ago. She could have become bitter and angry. She could’ve let what other people were saying about her and thinking of her eat away at her heart: she could’ve believed the lies that she was worthless, hopeless, not wanted, unwelcomed, inadequate. Yet she showed up in God’s presence. She put herself in a position to be found. She prayed. She let herself be vulnerable before the Lord, coming before Him as she was, brokenness and all.

She allowed Jesus to heal her. Do we allow Jesus to heal us?

Then, when Jesus cast the demon out of her, she immediately glorified God! She gave Him all the glory for His goodness and faithfulness. She was unafraid and unashamed to praise God for her healing, even though the synagogue leader and the crowd were furious with Jesus for healing her on the sabbath.

Jesus heals the woman with compassionate, tender care. He sees her. He knows her. He calls her “woman,” intimately acknowledging her dignity as God’s daughter when she probably didn’t feel very confident in her womanhood. He lays hands on her, an act not just of healing but a physical sign of His love. He knew that she needed to know she was deeply wanted, seen, and beautiful. He doesn’t define her by her suffering, but by who she is in Him.

God made us, body and soul. Sometimes when our souls are sick and hurting, our bodies can become physically ill, as with the crippled woman. While you may not have suffered from something for eighteen years, we all have things that cripple us. Maybe you’re going through a particularly difficult season of life right now that leaves you feeling like the weight of the world is on your shoulders. What is crippling you? Does a situation in your life right now seem hopeless? Has your heart been hurting for a long time, so long that it feels like the darkness won’t end? Whether it’s sin or a wound or both, bring that to Jesus today. Do not be afraid to step into His presence and reveal your whole heart to Him. He sees you. He knows you. Ask Him to heal you. He surely will, in His perfect timing and goodness. He so desires your healing. Sometimes we have to take the courageous step to lay it all bare before Him and let Him in. Put yourself in a position to be found. God is faithful.

Fire and division: Preparing for Advent

Dear fellow pilgrims,

Today, I feel like the readings today are so strong and self-explanatory they do not even need to be discussed. St. Paul is speaking such fire to the Ephesians in an amazing series of verses we should all memorize. (Check out my brother’s blog post about how a changing understanding of this verse was pivotal for his decision to become Catholic). And, Jesus is challenging our view of Him as the one who brings only comfort and joy and peace to our lives.

Across the two readings, here is what I see…

These readings leave no room for Christian mediocrity or laxity. St. Paul longs for the Ephesians to be filled with the “fullness of God” that “surpasses all knowledge.” Jesus longs for the world to be set on fire with His love, and already aches for it to be “already blazing.” Jesus goes on to say that He has come to incite division, which says to me that if your belief in Christ and discipleship with Him are not producing any friction or difficulties in your life, you’re not really living out His teachings. Jesus’ message does not fit into a neat and tidy box we can open and admire when it’s convenient and put away when it’s scary or inconvenient. Jesus anticipates His own death (the “baptism” He speaks of), which itself would testify to the boldness of His message and its implications.

I also see a theme of family being the place where either division or wholeness manifests.  The readings speak of families as the Church as well as domestic families and across generations. God “names” each one of these families, He knows in advance in what context we will encounter our faith in Him and also challenges to that faith.  Most often, it is the hardest to evangelize and talk about God with those closest to us… but we must do so to be authentic in our faith.

It is so difficult to speak with family about difficult issues of faith because of the fear of division, but without genuine sharing and knowledge of each other, how authentic can we claim these relationships to be? Of course there are complex family issues that take a long time to pray over and find the right time and way to communicate in the most effective way, but how often to we use that plan to shield our own sense of responsibility instead of propelling us to deeper prayer and discernment? How deep is our belief in Heaven as our one true home, heaven as the undivided Heart of God?

(Note: I also have to mention that I have seen many Christians abuse this verse, and other verses in the Bible that talk about how the world was against Jesus, to justify uncharitable ways of confronting people of their sin. As St. Paul says, we must first be “rooted and grounded in love,” but this does not mean being endlessly accepting. There is space here to jump off into a broader discussion and more research into a “right” way of having conflicts between Christians and between Christians and Non-Christians that I encourage us all to have in conversation with others in person!)

As we approach the beginning of Advent, I invite us all to examine how we long to keep our relationship with Jesus in a comfortable space where we are not challenged but always affirmed.

In what ways have the fires of love for Jesus in our hearts grown dim?

How have we compromised the authenticity of relationships with family members or close friends over not wanting to cause division, when we are really being called to witness to the truth of His love?

How can we anticipate celebrating a very warm and fuzzy holiday season with wide-eyed wonder, but also humble reverence and holy fear of why God came to us as a helpless infant?

I don’t have all the answers for you, but I can assure you that if you ask, God will guide your heart to special treasures of contemplation that He has in store for you this Advent.

Pax Christi,

-Alyssa

Kingdom at hand

In looking at Today’s Readings, I was struck by the universality of the Word. Simply put, the message of Jesus Christ is meant for every human being: The Kingdom of God is at hand!

But how much of our lives are spent waiting for the right conditions to live/move/have our being?

“Once I have…”
“When I’m finally able to…”
“If someone would only just…”
Some of those sentences hurt for me to type, because they ring so true. I feel like I’ve spent years deferring, blaming, excusing, or avoiding. I’ve yearned to burst forth like a bolt of lightning, chasing down my dreams, passions, and callings with holy excitement and energy, yet I often seem to find some little hindrance or struggle to which I give too much power and pump the brakes.

“But I’m so tired…”
“I’ve got these other responsibilities…”
“I wish I could afford to…”

To be fair, there are seasons of life where waiting is the calling. For example, my life as a husband and father to one toddler and potential Christmas/New Year’s newborn is not necessarily the time to travel the world and broaden my horizons. These days, it’s more like running in circles around our apartment hallways and babyproofing my horizons. But a life season of patience does not mean we are waiting, or that we are hamstrung, ineffectual.

Jesus told us, and continues to tell us, that the Kingdom of God is at hand! Right now! God is calling me, calling you, to greatness (in His eyes, not the world’s). All of the excuses and rationalizations I’ve listed above betray one big need in my life: my faith in God needs to grow!

Two variations of one of the most profound messages I heard during my time as a campus minister come to mind: 1) God does not call the equipped, he equips the called, and 2) God will always give you enough time, energy, and resources to pursue His calling for you. If it’s His calling in your life. He will make it work. We need not wait; we ought to act. If you truly believe that Jesus Christ brought about the Kingdom of God, brought Death to its knees, and brought everlasting redemption, WHY WOULDN’T YOU ACT?!

St. Paul tells us today that we have Jesus Christ has given everyone on earth both a Word and a Mission. We are to receive and preach “the inscrutable riches of Christ.”

The Kingdom of God is at hand.
Act like it. Then go tell everyone.

Deemed Worthy

“But God, who is rich in mercy,
because of the great love he had for us,
even when we were dead in our transgressions,
brought us to life with Christ (by grace you have been saved),
raised us up with him,
and seated us with him in the heavens in Christ Jesus,
that in the ages to come
he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace
in his kindness to us in Christ Jesus.” (Ephesians 2:4-7)

How unworthy we are to receive this gift, the gift of God’s mercy. God chooses us anyway, and He never stops choosing us. In the midst of our sin, He is already working to bring us back to life with Christ.

I’ve often thought, “Why does God love us so much? Why does He do things that are seemingly irrational in human terms?” We run far, far away—He chases us down and relentlessly pursues us, leaving the 99. We hide in our shame and sin—He comes to rescue us and is the Light that shatters all darkness. God sent His only Son to die for us in the most brutal and physically, emotionally, and spiritually horrifying way. He didn’t have to. He could’ve left us alone in the misery of our sin, saying, “Well, I gave you a chance…” But no. He is always after our hearts, no matter how far we try to shove Him away and no matter how steeped in sin we become. There is no extent to which He won’t go to rescue you.

Why does God forgive us over and over again? Why does He forgive so easily? Well, we can look to today’s Psalm for a simple yet profound answer: “The Lord made us, we belong to Him.” We are God’s beloved sons and daughters. Of course He wouldn’t want to lose us. Of course He would chase after us and do everything He could to give us His grace, hoping that we will ask for mercy and accept His love.

We are unworthy, yet He deems us worthy.

When I was 16, I got into a pretty scary car accident. I was driving down a street in my neighborhood a few blocks from my house, and someone pulled out from a stop sign and hit me. Thankfully, the other driver and I were not seriously hurt. When I called my parents to tell them what had happened, they came running down the street to find me and hugged me tightly. Even though the accident was not my fault, I was afraid they would be upset with me for what happened. Instead, the first words out of their mouths were, “Are you okay?” They spoke with the utmost love and concern. They didn’t care about the car, they just wanted to make sure I was alive and safe.

Brothers and sisters, this is God’s question to us when we fall into sin: “Are you okay? Is My son okay? Is My daughter okay?” How blessed we are that our God is slow to anger and quick to love and forgive. When we ask for His mercy, He is so eager to give it to us. He wants us to be okay.

God doesn’t want to lose us. He doesn’t want His family to stray away and suffer the consequences of sin. Let Him pursue after your heart. Run to Him in the Sacrament of Confession. Don’t delay. Allow Him to give you the immeasurable riches of His grace. We are created for greatness: what steps do you need to take to live that more fully?

“We are not the sum of our weaknesses and failures; we are the sum of the Father’s love for us and our real capacity to become the image of his Son.” (St. John Paul II, whose feast is today!)

Living in the Spirit, Following the Spirit

Brothers and sisters:
If you are guided by the Spirit, you are not under the law.
Now the works of the flesh are obvious:
immorality, impurity, licentiousness, idolatry,
sorcery, hatreds, rivalry, jealousy,
outbursts of fury, acts of selfishness,
dissensions, factions, occasions of envy,
drinking bouts, orgies, and the like.
I warn you, as I warned you before,
that those who do such things will not inherit the Kingdom of God.
In contrast, the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace,
patience, kindness, generosity,
faithfulness, gentleness, self-control.
Against such there is no law.
Now those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified their flesh
with its passions and desires.
If we live in the Spirit, let us also follow the Spirit.
—Galatians 5:18-25

Do you ever catch yourself reading a Scripture verse and thinking, “Okay that seems obvious”? Or maybe a better way to phrase the phenomenon is glazing over a verse here or there because it just seems too…straightforward? Easy to digest? Unremarkable?\

Sure, you do. We all do, we all know the feeling. It’s happens all the time when our minds wander, and sometimes even when you’re pretty well focused. That happened to me with today’s first reading.

Luckily, I caught myself this time. Do I really think St. Paul was redundant? Should I really write him off as an over-communicator? Of course not.

So I went back to the last verse of the reading: If we live in the Spirit, let us also follow the Spirit. Straightforward, no? Yet what happens if we break this verse down grammatically? If I believe and profess that the Bible is the written Word of God, then every sentence, and possibly every word, should get this treatment. There are so many “levels” on which you can read Scripture, and God can speak to you through all of them! Read a chapter for the story, or meditate on a single sentence or passage a la lectio divina; the Spirit speaks either way.

So. Back to today’s verse: If we live in the Spirit, let us also follow the Spirit.

Why wouldn’t somebody be doing both? Why does it need to be stated?

As Catholics, what does it look like to live in the Spirit? The most obvious response is being a regular participant/recipient of the Sacraments. Jesus instituted the Sacraments as vehicles of grace, aka the gifts of the Spirit. Regular Mass-goers, you can check this one off: you, in a technical sense, could be considered to be living in the Spirit (if you go to Confession, and if you are not in a state of sin; big ifs)

If we’re living in the Spirit, it does not mean that we are necessarily following the Spirit. Participating and receiving do not mean that we are listening. If we are to inherit the Kingdom of Heaven, do we need to receive the Holy Spirit? Absolutely. Is that enough by itself? Not at all.

“Following the Spirit” can have two related meanings: discerning God’s will in your life (i.e. following as a guide) and acting in accordance with His law (i.e. following as a rule). How often do we participate, but do not seek time in prayer for the Spirit to speak on a personal life decision? How often do we pray before a difficult conversation? A meeting at work?

These two elements, living in the Spirit and following the Spirit, are symbiotic and necessary. The grace of the Sacraments will flow into and inform our prayer and actions, and our prayer and actions inspire a greater desire for the Sacraments.

In addition to seeking out ways you can more deeply live in and follow the Spirit in your life, I ask that you say a special prayer for those who attend Mass regularly, but God does not have a central place in their lives otherwise. Pray that the Spirit would enkindle in them a new fire of love for Christ.

 

Let Nothing Disturb You

Blessed be the name of the Lord forever.
Praise, you servants of the LORD,
praise the name of the LORD.
Blessed be the name of the LORD
both now and forever (Psalm 113:1-2)

God, we praise You.

You alone are worthy of our praise.

We praise You in times of great consolation.

We praise You when we feel suffocated by fear.

We praise You, even when our hearts are aching and destruction is all around us.

We praise You when it is hard to trust.

You are good.

You have not forsaken us.

From the rising to the setting of the sun
is the name of the LORD to be praised.
High above all nations is the LORD;
above the heavens is his glory (Psalm 113:3-4)

When we wake up well-rested, we praise You.

When a new day starts after a sleepless night, we praise You for life.

When we are feeling confident on the way out the door, we praise You for that grace.

In the moments where we feel like we can barely make it through, we praise You.

When we share a meal with friends, we praise You.

When we are so busy we scarf down a quick bite on the subway, we praise You.

When we mess up and say or do something we regret, we praise You for Your awaiting mercy.

When we receive great news, we praise You knowing that all good things come from You.

When work is stressful, we praise You.

When familial relationships are strained, we praise You for never abandoning us.

When we lose someone we love, we praise You for Your resurrection.

When we’re so tired we can barely muster the words to pray, we praise You for the breath You put in our lungs.

When we are up late writing that paper or meeting that deadline, we praise You for how You provide.

When we lie awake in bed worrying about finances or family, we praise You for the way You made our hearts to love.

When we are awake at 4am caring for our crying children, we praise You for the gift they are to us.

You are sovereign over all.

You are faithful through it all.

Who is like the LORD, our God,
who looks upon the heavens and the earth below?
He raises up the lowly from the dust;
from the dunghill he lifts up the poor (Psalm 113:5-7)

Lord, You meet us in our darkness.

You are there when our hearts ache of loneliness.

You are there when we feel unloved.

You are there when we are embarrassed or ashamed.

You are there when You seem far away.

You are there when we can’t help but cry.

You are there when we struggle in our faith.

You are there when we shut You out with distractions, sin, or fear.

You are there in seasons of change.

You are there in our mourning.

You are there. You are enough for me, Lord.

I praise You.

When was the last time you stopped and praised the Lord? What if every part of our day became a song of praise for our Lord, even the trying moments? His goodness never changes. Today we celebrate the Feast of St. Teresa of Avila. She, like our patron Bl. Frassati, like the seven new saints canonized yesterday, had one thing in common: everything they did was about the Lord. He was enough for them. And no matter what hardships they faced, they kept their eyes fixed on Jesus and praised Him in the good and the storms. God is so worthy of our praise, dear friends! Be encouraged today knowing that He is with you.

“Let nothing disturb you,
Let nothing frighten you,
All things are passing away:
God never changes.
Patience obtains all things
Whoever has God lacks nothing;
God alone suffices.”
— St. Teresa of Avila

P.S. This song taught me a lot about praising God in all things!

Fear and (Self-)Loathing

Praise the LORD, all you nations!
Extol him, all you peoples!
His mercy for us is strong;
the faithfulness of the LORD is forever.
Hallelujah!
This week our local parish was lucky enough to host Hallie Lord for our annual “Fall Mission,” a series of Mass, dinner, talks, and Adoration (sound familiar, Frassati folks?) to unify and build the faith of our Church community. Ms. Lord published a book titled, On the Other Side of Fear, and she shared much of her experience in overcoming fear in her life tonight. I’d like to share a bit of her story here.
Hallie was a convert to Catholicism, and after experiencing a strong movement of the spirit to join the Church (she had grown up in a “hippie liberal family” in northern California) after witnessing her now-husband’s resurgence of faith, she experienced a strong “New Convert High,” as her spiritual director called it. She was two years removed from her Confirmation, married to the man of her dreams, and her closest priest friend had come to visit for dinner. After the meal, he pulled her aside and struck a somber tone, far from his normal demeanor.
“How are you doing, Hallie? It’s been, what, two years now?”
She told him that things were as good as they’ve ever been. She felt filled to the brim with the love of God. This much he already knew.
“I just wanted to let you know, though, that it doesn’t last like that forever. I’m not trying to be a killjoy, but I believe people handle the rough patches better when they expect them.” He added, semi-jokingly, “If you’re a Catholic and you’re not suffering, you’re not doing it right.”
Hallie was understandably disgruntled, and more than a little in denial. By her own admission, she thought that maybe this cradle Catholic priest couldn’t understand the experience of a convert!
However, within two months, her family’s financial situation had undergone a dramatic downturn, and they spent the next 10 years digging out from under accrued debts, bad luck, and tough break after tough break. By all accounts, the math didn’t work out: her husband had a Master’s degree, was working two jobs, and they were living in relatively inexpensive cities. In retrospect, she says, it was clear that this was a Cross that the Lord had called their family to bear.
Hallie, for years, was fraught with anxiety and crippled by fear. Would their utilities be shut off tomorrow like it had been in the past? Would one medical emergency put them over a financial brink?
Finally, after the birth of fifth(?) child, her daughter Zelie, she reached a turning point. She, like so many times before her dark decade, offered her life to the Lord. He, in His own funny way, confirmed His love for her through an hour-long car-ride with three hitchhiking French friars.
In hearing her message, I was struck by how much room my faith has to grow, and how numbed and distant my heart had grown from Jesus’ lately. Hearing someone else talk about their unsuccessful efforts to ‘muscle’ through trying times, admittedly much more trying than anything I’ve been going through, brought some healthy perspective to my recent struggles.
For 27 years of my life, I’ve heard the message that the Lord offers us crosses and suffering to refine our hearts. For so many of those years, I’ve nodded my head, but not been able to truly believe it.
Tonight, for the first time in longer than I’d like to admit, I started to believe it again. Almost unbeknownst to me, My Way had taken hold of my spirit, and My Faith turned into something that better resembled My Contingency Plans, or, How to Avoid Disaster and Mitigate Risk.
Does that sound familiar to anyone? Are any of you struggling with a life or faith whose boundaries are set by your fears of utter failure? Are any of you living in what Hallie called, the “wreckage of the future”? How may of your daily decisions take into account bad- to worst-case scenarios that invite you to take the safe, least vulnerable path.
But has Jesus Christ ever once called us to safety, to invulnerability? I think you know the answer to that.
Can any of you by worrying add a single moment to your life-span?
But seek first the kingdom [of God] and his righteousness, and all these things will be given you besides.
—Matthew 6:27,33

Jesus does not invite us to live a timid life. Instead, we are called to make disciples of all nations. He does not invite us to safety. Instead, we are told that we will suffer for our Faith, but the Lord’s mercy is strong and his faithfulness can overcome any obstacle or fear.

Jesus calls us beyond our fears, inviting us to walk on the water with our eyes fixed on Him. The Creator and Redeemer of our universe wants us to abide in Him, which is not without its risks, but he promises not only safety and provision, but Eternal Life with He for whom our hearts long most.

Our Worth is in Him Alone

“Am I now currying favor with human beings or God?
Or am I seeking to please people?
If I were still trying to please people,
I would not be a slave of Christ” (Galatians 1:10).

This verse from St. Paul’s letter to the Galatians stopped me in my tracks as I went through the readings for today. I wish I could say I only ever seek affirmation from God, but it’s a point of struggle for me. I am a people-pleaser, and sometimes I fall into the temptation to worry too much about what other people think of me. Thoughts of inadequacy, comparison, and isolation can plague us. How many of us wonder, “Am I good enough?”, “Do I have what it takes?”, “Can I do this?”, “What’s wrong with me?” Or we jump straight to the self-hatred: “I can’t do this,” “I’m not capable,” “I’m not good enough,” “I’m a burden,” “He/She is so much better than I am,” “I’m a mess.”

It is tempting to measure our worth by “standards” of appearance, friend circles, vocational status, career advancements, having that perfect Catholic Instagram photo with a Bible and coffee, feedback from a boss, or the people that seem to have it all together (they don’t). This will only make our aching hearts sick, and the whispered lies about our identity from the evil one will become the deafening norm. It all ultimately boils down to pride and not trusting in God enough—not trusting fully in how much He loves us.

The more we know our belovedness as God’s sons and daughters, the easier it is to let go and live totally for Him. When we dive into God’s heart, we find love and mercy itself. We find that He is always working for the good of those who love Him (Romans 8:28). We find that He has never abandoned us and never will (Matthew 28:20). We find solace, protection, safety, and peace (Psalm 91, John 14:27). We find the One who calls us His (John 10:14). We find forgiveness (1 John 1:9). We find the One who gives us everything just because we belong to Him (2 Peter 1:3). Faced with this reality, it can become easier and easier to totally trust our Lord. Like St. Paul said, “On this account I am suffering these things; but I am not ashamed, for I know Him in whom I have believed” (2 Timothy 1:12). God is trustworthy. Even with our darkest sins and secret shame, He is trustworthy; especially in that, He is trustworthy.

What things are holding you back from relying fully on God? Maybe it’s fear, suffering, shame, or lies on your heart about your identity. Maybe it’s a sin you keep falling into. Maybe it’s an addiction. Maybe it’s someone who hurt you deeply that you’re struggling to forgive. We all have stuff. Whatever it is, let’s start entrusting these things to the Sacred Heart of Jesus today. You are not alone.

A few years ago, I was a counselor for a Catholic camp for teens called Camp Veritas. One thing that is often heard yelled back and forth as the anthem of the camp is:

“What’s the objective of your life?”

“HEAVEN!”

“And if it’s not?”

“We’re wasting our time!”

Amen, amen. Let’s live this way—really live this way, seeking after Heaven rather than the approval of others.

Our worth lies in God alone. His opinion of you is all that matters. And He’s crazy about you. He will never forsake you.

Rubbish and Righteousness

—[But] whatever gains I had, these I have come to consider a loss because of Christ.
More than that, I even consider everything as a loss because of the supreme good of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have accepted the loss of all things and I consider them so much rubbish, that I may gain Christ
and be found in him, not having any righteousness of my own based on the law but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God, depending on faith
to know him and the power of his resurrection and [the] sharing of his sufferings by being conformed to his death,
if somehow I may attain the resurrection from the dead.
—Philippians 3:7-11, from today’s Gospel acclamation

Again we find ourselves confronted by Scripture with questions of value.

Last week I wrote about how a life in Christ changes our definitions of “rich” and “poor”. Yesterday, Grace likened accusatory thoughts or invitations to self-pity to junk mail. The day before, Lauren referenced St. Therese’s “little way,” which is a summation of her belief that her little actions, imbued with the power of the Holy Spirit, were a valuable contribution to her world.

Here again today, we are called to contemplate how much value we ascribe to Christ. Job eloquently describes his fear of the LORD in the first reading; he clearly places a high importance of God’s movements in his life, but his fear is incomplete: Job loathed his life, blaming God, “because in his own eyes he was in the right.” (Job 32:1).

In today’s Gospel, however, Jesus offers another way to look at God’s importance in your life: Bringing about the Kingdom of God is more important than any worldly matter, even those we hold most dear, like our families or grief. St. Paul, in today’s Gospel acclamation quoted above, offers his own version of “Christ above all”.

I am a cradle Catholic, and have been largely spared from crises of faith in my life. Simply put, God has always held a place of prominence. I have always valued my faith.

How does my faith hold up when scrutinized in the light of today’s readings?

How often have I blamed God, or maybe the Church, for making my life miserable? How many times have I longed to live free of consequence and responsibility, knowing in my heart that it’s impossible and harmful? How have negative circumstances in life pushed me away from my faith, turning to other, unsatisfying coping mechanisms. Do I turn to the Lord in times of trouble, truly believing that He can hear my voice, or is He too far away, a distant, conceptual God that probably can’t or won’t work real miracles in my life.

Looking to St. Paul and Jesus’ words: How much have I given up for Christ? Going further, how much have I given up happily, knowing that the righteousness of Jesus far outshines any worldly matter I might hold dear? Are there areas in my life today that I could step out more radically in faith?

How far are we willing to go? What are we holding on to? What little sins, little vices, little omissions, little habits (little little little little… so we don’t notice them piling up) are holding us back from a heart that burns radically for Jesus?

Pray with this question:  Are there areas in my life today that I could step out more radically in faith?

Then pray again.

Then do it.

Small Things, Great Love

“An argument arose among the disciples
about which of them was the greatest.
Jesus realized the intention of their hearts and took a child
and placed it by his side and said to them,
“Whoever receives this child in my name receives me,
and whoever receives me receives the one who sent me.
For the one who is least among all of you
is the one who is the greatest.”  (Luke 9:46-48)

Confession: I’m one of those people who is prone to getting easily distracted by cute little kids during Mass. Who doesn’t love adorable children, right? But there was one particular Sunday that a little boy displayed profound wisdom. I was kneeling in my pew after receiving the Eucharist. A worn-out looking mom moved forward in the aisle beside me to receive, holding her wriggly son who looked about two years old. As the priest said, “The Body of Christ,” the boy pointed to the Eucharist and said, “Jesus!”

I immediately smiled, and tears sprang to my eyes. “Jesus!” The little boy said it so matter-of-factly, the same as if he were to point to a picture of an apple and say, “apple!”

How quick are we to recognize Jesus around us? Can we, like the little boy, recognize the graces and goodness in our lives and immediately say, “Jesus,” knowing that He is the source? God is always up to more than we can see, and we are constantly surrounded by His goodness, mercy, protection, and attentive care. Are we also living in such a way that others could see the joy and love of the Lord in us and say, “Jesus”?

Today is the feast of one of my favorite saints and one of the doctors of our Church, St. Therese of Lisieux. St. Therese truly exemplified the childlike faith Jesus refers to in today’s Gospel. She freely gave Him everything, saying she “didn’t want to be a saint by halves.” She wrote of being a “little flower,” humble before the Lord:

“[Jesus] opened the book of nature before me, and I saw that every flower He has created has a beauty of its own; that the splendor of the rose and the lily’s whiteness do not deprive the violet of its scent, nor make less ravishing the daisy’s charm…So it is in the world of souls, the living garden of the Lord….He has also created little ones, who must be content to be daisies or violets nestling at His feet to delight His eyes when He should choose to look at them. The happier they are to be as He wills, the more perfect they are…What delights Him is the simplicity of these flowers of the field, and by stooping so low to them, He shows how infinitely great He is” (Story of a Soul, I).

Everything St. Therese did was intentionally rooted in love, even the small things. Her childlike faith was the fruit of selflessness and complete surrender to God. God can work wonders through what we may see as simple or even insignificant acts of love. May we be childlike before Him—quick to run to His arms with confidence, quick to love, quick to acknowledge His grace. Today let us be attune to all the ways Jesus is present in our day, giving Him praise by declaring His name over all the graces He gives us. And let’s do the same for others—loving greatly in small things.