Faith
Giving Up on Giving Up Slowly
One of my favorite Relient K songs opens with the verse, “I’m giving up on giving up slowly.” It’s a song about redemption, resolve, and hope in a better life that is beginning now. It’s the moment we all experience when we walk out of the confessional.
A life without sin is the life we were made to lead. Along the path, we meet resistance. Before we are challenged by forces in the world, we have to beat ourselves. We must beat the sins, habits, tendencies, and tastes that knock us off of our game. We face down doubt, reluctance, and fear. Can it really be true? What about all of this that I have to give up? Is this really a better path? Maybe I’ll try tomorrow.
Tomorrow turns into a week, turns into a month, a year, a life. Before we know it, we’re further from the destination than when we started. All of these small choices that we make carry us a little further off the path and into the weeds.
What if things were different? What if we gave up on giving up slowly? What if we raised the stakes and went all in? What if we laid down this empty life that we’ve chosen for ourselves and embraced the life-giving cross?
How different would you feel each morning? How different would your marriage be? How different would your relationship with your children be? How different would your job feel? The Cross has a way of touching every area of our lives. Everything would be different.
I’m giving up on giving up slowly. I’m excising all of the things getting in my way. I’m done with excuses and believing that a setback negates all of my progress. I’m done neglecting my spiritual life for a few lousy extra minutes of sleep. I’m done. I’m done. I’m done.
Making Time for Prayer
Over the past year, I’ve felt an increasing desire to incorporate more prayer time into my day. There’s something cathartic about quiet prayer time, and I often feel the benefit almost immediately. The challenge with finding these time blocks for increased prayer is that it cannot be rushed. Prayer, like any conversation, requires a set amount of time and there’s no rushing this process.
My bookshelf is full of books that I want to read. In fact, I have a list of books that makes up my reading queue and as of right now there are over 20 titles on that list. The same can be said for my prayer life. There are so many devotionals, so many books for spiritual readings, and so many ways to pray. These options can make a prayer habit challenging because I want to explore multiple forms of prayer each day.
There are two main challenges to daily prayer: time and cycle. Interestingly, these two challenges are the same that we face any time that we want to incorporate a good habit into our lives. Time is simple: we have X number of hours that we’re awake during the day. What are we going to give up in order to use its time for prayer? Cycle is the recognition that there will be times of great growth, and times of isolation. How will we take advantage of the growth in order to power through the spiritual winters?
This post really is nothing new. In fact, I didn’t intend for it to be new, groundbreaking material. Instead, it’s a reminder for me personally, and perhaps for you, that I need to be serious about integrating prayer into my day, and I need to be bold enough to invite my family to join me. It’s easy to intellectually grasp that daily prayer will improve my life, I just need to put it into action.
Making the Invisible, Visible
Faith is a gift, and one that parents try to transmit to their children. Those who have a strong sense of faith understand how it acts as a level and fulcrum, boosting the ordinary drudgery of our lives into something almost supernatural. The biggest challenge in the transmission of the faith is not explaining complicated doctrine, or even making the many mysteries of faith understandable. Rather, the biggest challenge is making the invisible, visible.
The phrase “out of sight, out of mind” is popular because it’s mostly true. We tend to concentrate more on what’s in front of us rather than on what’s not. This shortsightedness lands us in all sorts of jams, from sin to compromise on our goals. This tendency presents a major roadblock in helping a child understand who God is and, frankly, why they should care.
The Church gives us many externals that help us to bridge this gap. Alison and I have consistently reinforced in Benedict’s mind who God is, and that He’s very present. When going to Mass, we talk about going to Jesus’ house, and how we’re quiet while we’re there. In the sanctuary, we encourage him to say hello to Jesus and to blow Him kisses. These externals present in a very real way the presence of God in our lives.
Yet, I’ve found an even better way to make the Invisible, visible, not just in Benedict’s mind, but in the daily life of my family. We have three holy water fonts in our home: one by the front door, one in the master bedroom, and one in the kids room. Several times a day, we will bless each other. Benedict in particular enjoys dipping his hand in the font and then giving Alison, Felicity, and I blessings.
This small and simple gesture, an almost forgotten one as we enter into the Church and leave, is nurturing the seed of God placed on Benedict’s heart and in his mind. These little blessings throughout the day, added up, will hopefully produce a bountiful harvest of faith in his own life.
As a parent, I don’t want to see him suffer, and I know that a strong sense of faith will help him go further in life, happiness, and peace than he could on his own. As Alison and I labor to transmit the faith to Benedict and to his sister, I hope that through these series of small, simple gestures, we can make the Invisible, visible to them.
Sin Drags You Down
I’m never more keenly aware of the physical effects of sin in my life than right after confession. I walk out of the Church with a great sense of relief, perhaps even a bit lighter. Truly I feel freed from that which was holding me back. This feeling, replicated each time I go to confession, leads me to wonder, how much does sin really drag me down?
We know that sin is an offense against charity, against love. We know that sin affects all of us and that it impairs our judgement and ability to act freely. We bind ourselves to evil instead of running free with love. That’s the 10,000 foot view. On the day to day level, as we make our decisions, sin begets more sin. We wander deeper into the ocean before we turn back to the lighthouse of mercy and make it to solid ground.
When we say that sin affects all of us, those whom are most affected are our family. Sin turns our attention and priorities selfishly inward, so when I sin, I turn some of my attention away from my family. Instead of selflessly giving all of myself and expecting nothing in return, I selfishly put myself at the head of the line. This creates an increasing amount of discord in the household. We get out of sync as our priorities no longer align. Naturally, this happens by degrees, but with enough time spent away from God’s mercy in the Sacrament of Reconciliation, the great the divide grows.
It’s easy to miss the subtle signs as sin takes a great hold in our lives. I think that we tend to tolerate some lower level sin. Instead of working to root out all sin, we focus on the big stuff and let the little stuff slide. A lie or two, some gossip here and there, nothing too serious. Yet, it is serious. It’s the stuff that drags us down and pulls us out to sea. It’s like the old Catholic fallacy of, “I’m aiming for purgatory.” If you aim for purgatory, you might miss and end up no place that you want to be. If instead we aim for Heaven, we just might make it.
Part of sin’s mind game strategy is despair. If you truly believe that you can’t live the life of a saint, then you’ll lower your expectations, allow those gateway sins into your life, and be impaired by sin’s presence in your life. Instead of giving into despair, our best daily course is a strong regimen of prayer. Prayer that permeates our day is like an antibiotic, slowly but surely eradicating sin in our lives. When we make no provision, nor give any room to sin, we can live the lives we were meant to live: lives of true freedom.
Sin has a very real effect on our daily lives, our decision making, and our overall mood. The best way to live in true love and pure joy is to go to Confession regularly and establish a routine of prayer throughout your day. You, and your family, will love living with a truly free you.
We’re Too Comfortable
When it comes to fallen away Catholics, especially those who had a negative experience of the Church many years ago, it seems that each person has a singular event that pushed them over the edge. More likely than not, it was a harsh encounter with a religious. A nun yelling at them or a particularly brutal confessor, the trauma that resulted sadly caused them to leave their home. Like a young runaway, they found themselves in a strange place, cold, alone, and hurting. I think that so much of that hurt comes from an experience that didn’t reconcile with their vision of the Church. The Church, and Christians in general, are supposed to be loving, kind, and gentle people, while being compassionately firm when correcting one another. Those in the religious life are supposed to epitomize those characteristics. So when anyone has a difficult encounter with a religious, one can understandably question the entire system.
I think that it’s a valid reaction to be shocked and hurt when experiencing a blistering confessor. When I go to Confession, I’m in a pretty vulnerable place. I acknowledge where I’ve gone wrong and am frustrated and sad that I’ve made poor choices that were entirely, if not easily, avoidable. I want the carrot, not the stick. I want to be reminded of the ultimate reward for a life well lived, not a beating for the mistakes that I’ve made. A positive reinforcement with some helpful suggestions always carries me further than an indignant response from my confessor. We all feel this way.
These emotions of the penitent is what makes it so important for priests to really focus on their skills as a confessor. This is truly the moment that can make or break faith. The penitent takes a risk, naming their sins and seeking forgiveness. If all goes well, they may reform and make it to the finish line. If the experience is a scarring one, those wounds may cost the game.
While we need tender care in the confessional, there are also times when we need to be called out. Sin takes root and thrives when we’re comfortable. In fact, I might even make the argument that we’re too comfortable. From time to time we really need a reality check in the confessional, but one that comes from solid counseling, not firm admonishment. I think back to the Gospel of Matthew when Jesus tells Peter, “Get behind me Satan.” Had Jesus left it at that, Peter’s hurt very well may have caused him to, like the rich young man, go away sad. Although it’s not written, I like to think that Jesus pulled Peter aside and then offered kind words and encouragement. This is the model of Confession that I think we can get behind. Clear boundaries are drawn, then we’re built back up and sent on our mission.
It’s terribly sad when people feel excluded from the life-giving mission of the Church. While we all have, and will, experience very difficult encounters with religious, faithful, and our fellow Catholics, it’s important to analyze our own emotions and motivations. Perhaps we’re all just living a little too comfortable and could use more accountability in our lives. How we respond in these situations could make or break us. Choose to accept the situation in humility and let nothing prevent you from actively participating in the life of the Church.
St. Joseph: Human
Placing yourself in Bible stories is one of the most widely recommended spiritual exercises when it comes to the Scriptures. We’ve been given the grace of our faith and listening to the Readings every week, it becomes all too easy to separate ourselves from the stories. The Bible becomes a collection of bedtime stories, historical events that happened in the past and yet have little relevance today. Sure, we take the teachings, well some of them, and apply them to our lives, but most of the subject matter just doesn’t apply. I like to really turn the practice of placing myself in the stories on its head by drawing parallels between myself and the state of mind of the characters. To Mary and Joseph, they weren’t perfectly modeling the domestic Church. To them, it was just life. They wanted to do God’s Will and they did it, in just the same way that you and I could if we truly applied ourselves. This deep level of humility before God and man is what characterizes the greatest Saints in the Church.
Joseph, though he was indeed a holy man, was not exempt from sorrow, disappointment, or failure. He likely had boom times in his carpentry business and absolutely terrifying times when business was down. He was the sole provider for his family, and so he felt the same range of emotions tied to that station that we feel. Joseph was born with original sin, and so he sinned. Yet, his life points to a real detachment from sin. I think we fall into the trap of thinking that holy people have great lives because they aren’t tempted. Not so. The saints endure their miseries, but they also don’t bring misery on themselves through sin. So much of the trouble and strife that we face on a daily basis is a consequence of our choices. We choose to sin and in doing so push love a little bit further from the center of our lives. Eventually we reap what we sow.
One of the best ways to describe Joseph’s spiritual state is receptive. Like an antenna raised high in the air waiting to receive messages transmitted to it, Joseph’s actions and state of mind were turned wholly to God. He did this through a robust interior life that we can never know, but also through faithfully living his vocation. His life was so oriented towards God that when the dream came, he was ready to listen. We’ve all had vivid dreams that felt very real, how else could Joseph understand that the dream was a message meant to be carried out and not a fanciful creation of the mind?
The real path to virtue and holiness is through our individual vocations. While callings to the priestly and religious life are indeed beautiful and should be celebrated, they do not preclude, nor excuse, the laity from holiness. Each individual’s calling is specific to them and the special path they are asked to follow. By loving his wife and his Foster Child, Joseph fulfilled his marital promises and his calling in life and so journeyed deeper into the heart of God.
I thought about concluding with something pedestrian about how we can model Joseph’s life and try to live holier lives, but I think that’d be a mistake. The fact is, as hard as it is to believe, we can live a life just as holy and just as rich as Joseph, if only we start making different decisions. Joseph was not excluded from original sin, meaning he made some poor choices in his life. Yet, he pulled himself back up, worked towards perfection, and achieved that holiness that he sought. We can do it to, if only we have the courage and tenacity.
Eliminate the Possibility
A great struggle in the single life is the lack of permanence. When casually dating, playing the field, or even when you’re in a serious relationship, there’s a tentative bond that can be severed at any time, for any reason. This is extremely healthy because it would be ill-advised to enter into a permanent relationship without really knowing a person. Yet, this wavering state of affairs can also cause much angst as two people continue to move in different directions while trying to maintain a relationship. Therein lies the beauty of marriage; namely permanence.
I’ve shared in the past the great aspects of permanence. It’s a baseline and, no matter how big or small Alison and I’s disagreements may be, we always end up safely at permanence. Like a golden parachute, it brings us back to the reality that our marital relationship is so much bigger than any one fight, that together we’re doing something amazing and sharing that amazing with our children. In our minds, we’ve eliminated the possibility of breaking up, and so in every quarrel, we’re brought back to the table. This is a great lesson that can be applied to our lives.
I believe that most of our sins are a result of inaction as opposed to being ingrained. We commit the same sin over and over again because we haven’t applied enough force or focus to stop doing it. When you’ve committed the same sin over and over again, you know your triggers and warning signs.
Gossip always feels the same and you always get that feeling of, well, excitement as you’re about to dazzle the group with some really juicy information. If you gossip often enough, you can see the chain of events. You learn new information, you want to share, your stomach tightens as you wait your turn in a conversation, and you feel that sense of excitement as you spill the beans. In that sequence alone, there are four stages, four links in the chain. At any point, you could’ve jumped off the train, but you didn’t. If instead you had been focused and committed, you could have recognized the progression from the first stage, learning the new information, and the second stage, a desire to share, and ended the whole process, simply keeping everything to yourself.
Real change, mercy combined with conversion, happens when you eliminate the possibility of a particular sin from your life. You make yourself away when you’re in danger of falling into gossip and you break the chain. You stop putting yourself in social situations where you’re tempted to share. You stand up for those who are being talked about, you empathize with their situation, or you offer support and encouragement.
We have the ability to make better choices if we take the principle of permanence and apply it to our spiritual lives. By accepting that there is a baseline and eliminating the possibility of committing a particular sin, we can move beyond our own pettiness and experience a richer, happier life.
The Danger of Despair
There are many obstacles to living a holy life. We must overcome our environment, our past choices, and even our own natural inclinations. While our “fight or flight” nature defaults us to looking out after our own self interest, the Christian life demands that we look outward first before tending to our own wants and desires. Perhaps the most difficult obstacle that we must overcome in this fight against our inclination to sin is dispelling ourselves of the false nature of despair.
Despair is when we stop believing in God’s promise of mercy. It’s essentially a state that calls God a liar. There is no hope, no salvation. I am a bad person, I don’t deserve anything good, I, I, I, me, me, me. While despair carries the mask of reality, it is truly far from it. While it is true that none of us are worthy of salvation, God in His goodness extends through space and time to make us worthy. We are worthy not by our own merits, but by His. There is always hope, there is always salvation, and there is always a way back.
Despair, like fear, resides in the darkness of our minds. It is the loud, yet singular, voice telling us things that we first don’t believe, but as we go deeper into the message, fall victim to the thinking. It creeps, grows, and spoils the goodness within us. As we give despair more and more credence, we start to act on it, committing sin that we otherwise would have avoided had we not believed that salvation was just too far. It’s a disastrous thought process that permits sin on the basis of prior sins committed. Like a storm surge over a breached flood wall, we’re overcome. Inundated, we feel helpless and trapped, and so we turn to the loudest voice in our minds. That voice isn’t the sound of God reaching out to save us, no that voice was tuned out long ago. Instead, it’s the voice of despair leading us deeper in the darkness as we drown.
The nature of despair, however, is not the looming monster that we believe it to be. Rather, it’s as wispy as a morning fog. When the sun rises, it rapidly dissipates, leaving no trace of its existence. While we may walk into the confessional lost in the thick haze, the rays of God’s mercy dispel of the darkness leaving us squarely back in the light. The voice of despair remains, but now its strength has been supplanted by Truth itself.
Despair, however, refuses to be beaten. That characteristic is one that we should admire. Like a colony of ants whose hill was just knocked over, it’s right back to work on its mission of deception. The only difference now, however, is that your defenses are back up. Filled with grace instead of drowning in despair, you’re prepared to see through the falsehoods and see despair for what it really is. We can never silence despair, but we can marginalize it to the point of inconsequence.
The of all of the challenges that we face in the spiritual life, none are more sinister than the silent killers. The negative thoughts that linger in our minds are those which will completely destroy us, if we let them. In times of despair, use logic and reason to recall that what God has promised, He has done. There is no cause of doubt or concern. Turn to Him, listen to Him, and follow Him.
Discounting the Eucharist
In my previous reflection on the intimacy of the Eucharist, I started to write about the insidious nature of complacency in the Catholic life, but realized it would be better to explore this topic separately. The fact is that we all have times in our lives when we don’t give the Eucharist the prayerful respect that we should. It’s a part of our fallen nature to not be able to fully recognize God within us, or even to view ourselves as God.
You’ve heard it said that grace is often made available to us when we need it, but we have to accept it. Grace is offered when we receive the Sacraments, on special feast days, when we’re in a particular personal trial, and even when we’re faced with temptation. The thing is, it doesn’t feel like it. When I’m tempted, and I mean really tempted, grace doesn’t ride in to save the day and take it away. Those moments of serious temptation can be extremely oppressive and leave you feeling like there’s no alternative but to commit that sin just so you won’t have that feeling of the air leaving the room. Accepting grace, however, isn’t about having your problems taken away. Accepting grace is about the strength of character and relationship that emerge when you walk away the victor after a serious standoff with temptation.
There is no more powerful direct interaction with God in the universe than the Eucharist. Even when you consider Mary’s acceptance of the Christ child within her, we experience the same reality of the fullness of God coming to live physically within us, and all of the grace that comes with the physical presence of God. That intensity of divine presence is enough light to completely blot out the darkness. No evil can withstand the presence of the physical presence of God.
Ok, so if we receive the Eucharist and carry Christ within us, why do we commit sin? I find the answer in the Gospel of Mark. “Do you not realize that everything that goes into a person from outside cannot defile,” (7:18) “but what comes out of a person, that is what defiles.” (7:20) Satan’s goal is to provide the temptation to get you to freely choose to commit sin, he cannot do it for you. So in the moment of temptation you have evil exerting pressure on you externally, you have Christ living within you offering to exert overwhelming opposing pressure, but only if through the gift of free will you choose to accept His help.
God is not a genie and He has no interest in being one. He’s a dad. As a father, I don’t want Benedict to get hurt, and I don’t want him to fall, and I want him to make good choices and I don’t want to hurt his feelings when he sees that he’s disappointed me. Yet, if I don’t discipline him, I’ll have an out of control jerk who will live a miserable life. If I am constantly saving him from every little scrape and fall, I’ll have a robot not a human. I don’t want a robot as a son. I want a happy, well adjusted son who is able to freely choose to love me. This is exactly how God views us.
When we consider the true power of the Eucharist and the sublime power of having Christ take up residence physically within us, it becomes evident that the Eucharist is not to be discounted. We know why temptation abounds, we are grateful for the gift of free will, and we understand that He’s ready to help us overcome the evil in our lives if only we’ll get out of the way, stop playing God, and let Him be who He is.
Eucharistic Intimacy
Your faith life has the potential to be the most intimate relationship in your life. It’s a relationship that you have 100% control over. God is standing halfway, unmoved, just waiting for you to come out and greet Him. At the center of this relational treasure trove is the Eucharist. Its humility is unmatched and, while the Eucharist presents itself in simple terms, it’s anything but simple.
I’ve been spending a significant amount of time lately pondering the intimacy of the Eucharist and the reality of receiving the Sacrament. Breaking it down to its most basic level, the Eucharist is the physical presence of God entering into and dwelling within us. That description is deceptively simple. Exploring the reality opens up an entire world of thought and emotion.
Think back on a time when you and your wife were truly in sync. There was low stress, happiness and joy abounded, and you both felt incredibly connected. There was likely lots of cuddling and quality time spent together, and you both felt extremely close to one another. When you were both in this state, you likely wanted to continue to delve deeper into this state of closeness. You wanted to continue to grow closer all the way to the absolute center of closeness. Yet, there is only so far we can go. You can only cuddle so close. Renewal the marital covenant though the loving self-donation of one another in the marital embrace is the physical limit.
The Eucharist breaks down those barriers and takes you to the absolute center that you so desperately crave. There is no closer communion with God than to have the fullness of His presence within you, and you in Him.
I have several Christian friends who are on fire with faith and live the Christian life even better than I do. They crave that closeness and it makes me sad to know that they could have that which they desired if they entered into the fullness of the faith that only the Church can provide. It’s here that we find our calling to spread the Gospel to all nations, including those Christians who have not yet found what they seek, namely the Eucharist.
It can be dangerously easy to go to Mass and receive the Eucharist without a moment’s thought about the reality that you’re experiencing, but that is truly a shame. Even just a simple reminder to yourself as you process up to receive the Blessed Sacrament can be sufficient to not only remind you that you’re about to receive God within you. This is the absolute closeness that you crave that nothing else can offer. Cherish it.