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Yesterday, my family went to the movies to watch “You Gotta Believe.” It’s a baseball movie based off a true story.
One of the coaches of the team comes down with brain cancer and it’s serious. He has to step back from coaching while he does chemo.
At one point in the story, this coach’s son, devastated that his father isn’t getting better, runs out on the ballfield at night and yells out to the sky, “I hate you! I hate you!”
That was enough to make the tears flow hot on my face because I once did just about the same thing, except it was a football field and I was 17.
After my night on the football field, I went on to “wrestle with God,” much like Jacob in the Bible for years.
Yesterday, after I got home from the movie, I read a comment on my post from the other day that was wildly misunderstood. So many people missed the point of my post on burdensome rules.
Anyway, a woman, still missing the point, commented that respecting Christ in the Eucharist means that we dress up for church and women cover their heads. Boom. End of discussion.
Part of me wanted to defend my deep love of Christ, but the Holy Spirit kept saying, “Stay. Just stay. Don’t do it.”
While I was standing there at the stove with tears in my eyes, I asked, “Why not? Why not let me defend my love for You?”
What I heard was, “Because for some, it will never be enough what you do. Let me handle it. I know your heart.”
I realized how true that is. Because we humans are always trying to one up each other and prove we are better, sometimes, it will never be enough for many.
I have been to the depths with God and fought my way back to a relationship that I never thought possible after that night on the football field. Nobody but God truly understands my love and respect and nobody ever will.
There are a million and one ways, Catholic Pilgrims, that we can practice our Faith. And even if we did all those ways, there would still be someone who comes along and says, “Not enough.”
Of course with God, we can never give Him enough, but the only one we need to prove anything to is Him. He knows our hearts and His understanding of our hearts is all that really matters.
Live the Faith boldly and travel well this Tuesday.
*Picture is from the synagogue in Capernaum from our Gospel reading today.
For Lent, I'm doing the Pray40 challenge on the Hallow app. The whole theme is all about "The Return." We are following the story of "The Brothers Karamazov" and its relation to the parable of The Prodigal Son. On Sundays, we listen to Father Mike Schmitz' homily. This past Sunday, Fr. Mike said something that I'd like to highlight. Talking about how Prince Harry named his book "Spare," Fr. Mike said, "He wrote an autobiography, and the title of this autobiography is named after his wound." That wound being that he is nothing but the spare in the family. "He's just the back-up plan to the one that matters." For so many of us, it is our wound that becomes our identity. It is the story of our life. We are the wound, the wound defines us, the wound is why we are the way we are. Whenever your wound is your entire identity, resentment spreads its tentacles around your heart and you slowly start to die. Maybe not a literally death, but life, joy, energy, gratitude, and peace are all snuffed out. Today in my audio listening, Sister Miriam said, "We believe that our brokenness is somehow our fate or our identity. The enemy whispers to us, this is just who you are." This is why--and I know from experience--that so many people can't let go of their wound and let God heal it. It has become our identity. "I'm an abused person. I'm an addict. I'm unloved. I'm a failure. I'm awkward and weird and nobody likes me." We believe that if we lose this identity, we will be nothing. We will lose the label. We will lose the pity. We will lose the excuse for why our life has turned out like it has. It's just not true that we are our wound. And the minute that we decide that we don't want to be our wound anymore and hand that brokenness over to God, we will not be left with a bottomless pit. God can rush in and begin to fill us with His life and love. When He does that, we will begin to see that our identity is found in Him--we are a child of God and He loves us with an intensity that we fully don't understand. Lent is the perfect time to stop identifying yourself by your wound(s). You are God's beloved, Catholic Pilgrims.
Continue ReadingThis week's small town church comes to us from Chewelah, Washington--St. Mary of the Rosary. I've never been to the state of Washington, so that's all I have to say. Just kidding, just kidding. It's true that I haven't ever been to Washington, but I do have more to say. While I haven't laid a toe in the state, my better half once lived there as a teenager. His step-dad was stationed in Steilacoom, Washington and they lived there for about 2 1/2 years. I know it was rainy and my husband loved running in the drizzly rain and it was very green. And that's because Steilacoom is on the west side of the Cascade Mountains. Chewelah is on the eastern side, which I'm told is NOT the lush side. Side Note: For some weird reason, people from Kansas like to add an r into the words Washington and wash. Pretty much my whole family says "Warshington" or "Warsh." Why? I have no clue. I have been broken of the habit since living away, but if I'm home too long, that R sometimes resurfaces. Last week, we looked at a church in Alabama which is part of the area known as the Bible Belt. Interestingly enough, Washington state is part of an area called the "Unchurched Belt," with church attendance across the board being low. Catholics make up 14%-17% of the population. What's interesting is that this parish started out as a missionary parish founded by the Jesuits. What a lot of people don't know, is that missionaries, like the Jesuits, used to move into an area that was kind of uncharted territory and lay the groundwork. Once the population of an area became big enough to support a diocese, the missionaries would relinquish the parish(es) they founded to the diocese. That's what happened here. The Jesuits moved in, founded this parish in 1885 and handed it over to the Diocese of Spokane in 1916 and it's been holding down the fort ever since. 🙂 So, I hope you enjoy this copper-roofed church from Chewelah, WA, Catholic Pilgrims, and happy Monday! Side Note 2: While my husband enjoyed living in Washington, he's not too happy with the Seahawks for beating his Niners in the playoffs. So, his relationship with the state right now is bittersweet. lol.
Continue ReadingThroughout my life, I have been admonished by numerous people for something I was doing wrong--by parents, siblings, my spouse, my kids, friends, priests. Initially, my reaction can be to bristle at their admonishment, to get defensive or try to justify my actions. Long, long ago, my baby sister, even when she was still a kid, admonished me over something and I dismissed her. I explained my sin away to her by saying that someday she'll understand why it's so important for me to commit this sin. Can you imagine? Lord, have mercy on us. Anyway, years later, I realized that God was trying to get through to me through my sister. He tries to get through to a lot of us by putting people in our lives that help to correct us and challenge us to be better than our current state. Last night at my Bible study, we were listening to our daily Lenten message and the priest said something that really connects to this. He said, "Jesus doesn't want us to just be wrong. He wants us to be aware of what we can change, so that we can be better." --Father Columba Jordan. So that we can be more like Him. Jesus doesn't want to point out our sins and vices to make us feel bad about ourselves. He doesn't want us to just be wrong. He wants to show us another way and we can only be shown that way if we become aware of where we are missing the mark. The word "sin" stems from Greek and Latin words that mean to miss the mark. My sister wasn't interested in just pointing out I was wrong. She thought my behavior was unbecoming of who I really am supposed to be and she was trying to help me. We have a lot of people in our lives, Catholic Pilgrims, trying to help us hit the mark. Don't dismiss them or brush them away because you can't stand to face yourself. Live the Faith boldly and travel well this Thursday.
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