Uh oh, Catholic?
Shall I admit that I’ve taken a deep dive off into Catholicism?
As you know, I live largely in my head. The trouble with this is that sometimes my heart gets shriveled up and I worry more about getting it right for the sake of getting it right than I do about really knowing and loving God. I finally figured this out about myself and for a few years now, one of my prayers has been that Easter would mean something more to me than it has. Something more than the stories in the Gospels that I feel like I can recite chapter and verse.
Last year about this time, as so frequently happens, a book jumped into my cart at the thrift store: The Paschal Mystery edited by Matthew Becklo and published by Word on Fire. This is a collection of meditations, sermon excerpts, hymns, prayers, writings by the saints, and poetry following the themes of the weeks of Lent through Easter. Intrigued and hopeful, I invited God into my reading and reflection.
It’s taken a while for it to put itself into words for me--the best explanation of what a slow, prayerful course through this book did for me.
It hammered hard at my earth-bound perspective of Christian struggling so hard to get it right. That book, more than anything before now, lifted me to Christ’s perspective as He—for love—navigated the days leading to and through His Passion and Crucifixion, as He turned away from Heaven and completely trusted God to restore Him from that point of abandonment on our behalf.
Glimpses, mind you, a break in the clouds and not a complete clearing of the obscurity. My faith of largely mental assent has finally started to filter down into my broken, self-centered heart, waking up to God Himself. Such an answer to prayer, such a comfort, such a challenge to my whole way of being.
This of course, led to other writings: biographies of the saints, apologetics and theology, some personal retreats and meditations and a big ol’ green Catechism of the Catholic Church (Second Edition), which is an amazing arrangement of the beliefs and practices taught by the Catholic church. An extremely well-presented The Story of Christianity, written by a priest and a pastor, which has been a fascinating and gratifying high-level look at how Christianity has steered human history from the beginning.
The Liturgy of the Hours...so many prayers. Am I correct in understanding that the Church for decades has prescribed prayers for every day of the year?—morning, midday, evening, and night prayers. Along with Scripture readings and responsories and intercessions and canticles...all through the liturgical calendar. I can see how the Catholic church has gained the reputation of salvation via works. Do they really think the muttering of prescribed words is what catches God’s attention? But I also know that the prayer being written doesn’t say a thing about the state of the pray-er’s heart before God. Some of the brief prayers in the new-to-me, worn Morning and Evening have reconstructed familiar concepts, breaking through the mindless sheen of my long faith, setting up God as living Love in contrast.
This is not to say that I suddenly declare that Catholic church has something that the Protestant church does not have. Both traditions have their vast riches and both traditions have their problems. Both have practitioners who passionately love Jesus as well as adherents who are in it for themselves. But I believe God works with what we give Him, and He’s more concerned about fellowshipping with those who want to love Him well than He is about who’s got what statement in the “What we believe” section.
I’m just saying I’ve found expression of certain elements of my Christian faith that until now I have not encountered. I’m astonished at God’s mercy, humbled, unspeakably grateful.
Here’s the thing: if we’re half way paying attention, if we give Him permission, if we invite Him, God will lead us. Into seasons, out of seasons, into situations where we can learn Him, out of situations that no longer serve our growth. Through fellowships and relationships. Through hard lessons and repeated trips around the same mulberry bush, with patient expectation that sooner or later we’ll catch on. Into spaces of rest. Into situations where we now test our commitments to new discoveries about how God IS and what He expects of us.
Deeper into captivity to His holiness and His love--two sides of the Divine coin.
Now to Him who is able to keep you from stumbling, and to make you stand in the presence of His glory blameless with great joy. Jude 1:24
Springtime pleasures... Turns out Michelle and I frequent Larry’s Nursery. Last year I indulged in a couple little pots of spider plant that I stuffed into one pot and they’re flourishing together. A couple weeks ago, I found this gorgeous Iron Cross Oxalis for my sunrise window, which I needed because my other two pots gave up the ghost this winter. But the one that makes me happiest is this one…
When John and I moved to Smithville, we finally had the window necessary for a jade plant so I indulged (at Larry’s, of course), and that jade has gotten big and sprawly. A few weeks ago I turned the pot and discovered this little sproutlet from a fallen leaf I never picked up.
It reminds me of astonishing things you can find so unexpectedly. It reminds me that good things sometimes pop out of neglect. It reminds me to not despise the day of small beginnings, and to stay patient--because you just never know.
Here’s the link to last month’s issue Little Things.
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