Make Your Home in Me

Break me open.
Alabaster jar smashed
Precious ointment cast
At Your feet.

I want whole healing,
Not half,
Not in patches, like scabs.
No. All.

So smash me,
Break me,
Do what You must to take me
And make me Your home,
Abode,
Tent,
Tabernacle,
Dwelling for a King.

Come, my Love,
Make Your home in me.

Keep Walking

I haven’t hiked the Camino. Someday I hope to make the 500-mile trek across the mountains, valleys, and rivers of Spain, maybe with a few friends or on my honeymoon with mystery man. (I hope he likes walking.) The thought of a challenging physical journey across natural barriers fills me with enthusiasm—almost fervor.

Would I have what it takes to complete the journey? Could I keep moving forward despite blisters, aches, or illness? Would I be able to shoulder my load each morning or would I need to lighten my pack? Would I be humble enough to leave something behind and face the consequences?

As my mind scrolls through these questions, I realize—I walk this journey every day of my life. I am not speaking now of a physical journey, but of a mental and spiritual one.  Despite the numerous obstacles, disappointments, and failures of everyday life, do I continue to put one foot in front of the other and move forward towards my goal?

Responding to the duty of the present moment as I serve the moms and babies I live with requires flexibility and sacrifice, and some tasks are just not going to be finished because they are less important. Not knowing how someone will react to a question or reminder presents an obstacle in communicating a message to her. Falling asleep in morning prayer and coming down with a cold on my birthday seem like failures.

But these struggles are part of the journey. They are a splinter of the cross that I pick up and carry behind my Master. They are the load that I must shoulder each morning. And when the burden becomes to heavy and I need to lighten my pack, He is there to give me rest, to show me what can be left behind, and to give what I need to carry the remaining load.

His Voice Says Come

His voice says, “Come.” He is always telling us to move forward, to take that step, to devote ourselves to service.

“Lord, if it is You, command me to come to You upon the water.”

My heart quakes within me. Perhaps it isn’t Him. Then I will not have to go, to step out, to change. I won’t have to take the next biggest leap of my life.

“Come,” He says.

It is Him, then. It is not the voice of my imagination, the sirens in my mind, or the lure of external evils. No, it is really Him, and His voice is the breath of peace.

“Come.” The first step is always the most difficult—a truth I learned while ziplining in the mountains. (Who knew high adventure sports could teach so much about the spiritual life?) The first step is always the hardest, and many steps follow it. This makes me shrink back.

“Come.” His hand is outstretched and, reaching out for it, I hurl myself into the roaring sea.

The Gift of a Penny

Because I'm a Catholic nerd and my housemate is a Catholic nerd, one of the items on our summer bucket list is to visit every parish within a twenty mile radius of our house. (At this point, we've been to Mass at six of them.)

This past Sunday, we went to Mass at Blessed Sacrament parish. Bry was driving, so I didn't bother to bring anything along with me and blissfully walked out of the house - purse, key, and cell phone free. When we reached the stop sign at the end of the block, I realized that because I hadn't brought my purse, I didn't have my wallet. Which meant that I couldn't tithe. I had no money.

I was disappointed in myself. Earlier in the week I was thinking about the fact that I want to get back into the habit of tithing (the Biblical concept of giving ten percent of your income to the Lord) now that I get a regular paycheck. But I forgot.

When we arrived at the church and knelt down in the pew, I noticed something shiny on the floor, so I bent to pick it up. It was a brand new penny. God provided me with one little penny to put in the offering basket. I placed the penny on the bench beside me to wait until the offertory. As I placed the nearly worthless coin into the basket, I felt like the widow in the Gospel who put all that she had into the Temple offering. It was a humbling experience.

This penny was a sign to me that my Father was pleased with the desire of my heart to give Him a gift. And when I had nothing to give Him, He provided me with the gift. Truly, He will not be outdone in generosity!

"His blessing covers the dry land like a river, and drenches it like a flood."

-Sirach 39:22

Christ: In the Flesh

I am blessed to have an awesome internship in the same city as my college, which means that I get to stay here over the summer and continue with it. Hurray! One cool aspect of the job is that I frequently get to read the writings of the Popes, particularly of Pope Francis.

As I was skimming through Pope Francis’ most recent encyclical, Evangelii Gaudium, in hopes of finding a quote to use with one of the magazine articles I was copyediting, I stumbled across this gem: “God’s word teaches that our brothers and sisters are the prolongation of the incarnation for each of us: ‘As you did it to one of these, the least of my brethren, you did it to me’ (Mt 25:40).”

This is a profound idea—that each person I meet is Christ. Because that’s what Pope Francis means when he says that each one is “the prolongation of the incarnation.” The Pope really isn’t saying anything new, because the Church has always taught that each person is made in the image and likeness of God, but the way that he says this made me stop and think about the idea more fully.

When I desire to experience Christ physically present, my first instinct is to go to the Eucharist, since God has truly shown me that He is present within that tiny host. But if each person that I meet is “the prolongation of the incarnation,” then Christ is also physically present in each human being. Each person shows me Christ in the flesh, in his or her own flesh. That’s what incarnation means.

Like I said before, the teaching that God lives in each person is not a new idea for me or for the Church, but it is one that I am only now beginning to let impact my life. It means that if I want to love Christ, I must love the person right in front of me. I must be convicted that each person is Christ. And I have to act appropriately towards them—with an abundance of love and respect. No person is too small, too poor, too beautiful, too sick, too smart, too talkative, or too anything else for me to love them, since they are Christ.

But I fail at this all the time. So Pope Francis’ words are a challenge for me, a challenge to live out a deeper and more radical love of Christ by loving each person I meet. They are a challenge to seek the face of Christ in every single human being. It’s like a giant “Where’s Waldo?” game. Only with God.

Resurrection Encounter

A reflection on John 20:11-18

How deep His gaze into Mary’s eyes is when she encounters Him in the garden. “Mary.” His voice is tender and yet commanding so that she, through her sorrow, realizes that this man indeed is her Teacher and Master. “Rabboni!” She knows His voice; the sheep recognizes the voice of her Shepherd and immediately responds. He instructs her, briefly, and sends her forth.

In our own lives, Christ calls out to us – even in deep sorrow and suffering. He asks only for a response of love, a response of trust. When we hear our name spoken in the tenderness of His voice, how can we fail to turn quickly to Him in reply? He shows us, in his very body, that He is already victorious over all our human suffering. He brings us hope of the redemption of our bodies (Rom. 8:23) and of the glory that awaits us (2 Cor 4:17). After we turn to Him and have received with eager hearts the words that He speaks to us, we are sent forth to proclaim His triumph – that the Shepherd has died for the sheep and through His Resurrection has made each person into a new creation.

Of the Wonder of Love

This evening I attended the living Stations of the Cross put on by my university’s chapel as a special reflection for Holy Week. Following Christ’s journey to and death on the Cross is such a powerful form of prayer, and being able to see scenes from this journey acted out in front of my eyes brought many emotions whirling to the surface of my heart and my consciousness: sadness, gratitude, despair, hope.

Ultimately, however, the impression that I was left with tonight after praying the Stations of the Cross was one of wonder. I am in awe of how God brings great good out of seemingly great evil. Christ’s death was only a means to His Resurrection. And Adam’s sin was necessary for us to gain so great a savior. I am in awe of God’s greatness, of how He holds each one of us in His hand, of His perfect plan for every circumstance of our lives. When I see that He has such great love for me, how can I not surrender myself to that Love and immerse myself in it?

God-incidences

This past weekend, a household sister and I went downtown to the perpetual adoration chapel in one of the local parishes. It was about 9pm, give or take a few minutes, and we needed to ring the doorbell in order to get into the church. Just as I was about to push the doorbell, a short woman wearing a blue flowered shirt and a brown quilted coat opened the door from the inside. She jumped a little bit and we jumped too, startled to see somebody standing there. My household sister, B, said, “Well, that was good timing,” and made the nervous laughing noise that is her usual response to slightly awkward situations that she doesn’t automatically know how to react to.

“You startled me,” said the woman.

“Sorry about that,” I told her. She held the door open to let us into the church. I touched her gently on the arm as I passed by her and said that I hoped we had not startled her too much and to have a good night. 

She reached for my hand and squeezed it. “Thanks,” she said, and then “Oh! Your hands are so cold!”

“I know. They are always like that.” I moved to go down the stairs towards the chapel.

From the doorway she commented, “But you have a warm heart, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I said. She left and I turned to my household sister, who was already at the bottom of the stairs, examining the few posters on the wall asking for donations to the urban mission and advertising a consecration to Mary group. “Did you hear that?” I asked B.

“No, what?”

“She just told me my hands were cold. And then asked me if I have a warm heart. That’s the title of my blog.” We both had a minor freak out moment. It seemed like too much of a coincidence to be coincidence. I certainly saw it as Providence, but what convinced me of the fact was a nearly identical conversation with a different person not even twenty-four hours later.

I was again with household, but we were at a local nursing home for our bi-annual service project. We were there simply to have a little cake and coffee social with the residents. Upon arriving, I made eye contact with a little woman wearing a pink and white checked shirt and green pants, so I went over to say hello and talk with her. I gave her my hand and, of course, since I didn’t put my mittens on for the short journey across the parking lot and into the building, my hands were cold. Very cold. The first thing the woman did was comment on this fact and begin to rub my hands.

“Oh my. Your hands are cold.”

“I know. I should have worn my mittens.”

“But you have a warm heart, don’t you? I can see you do,” she said to me.

“Yes.”

What does it mean that two people, entirely unrelated to each other, neither of whom I had met before, should both have a conversation with me and tell me the title of my blog? I have no idea. All I know is that there are some things in life that can’t be explained simply by coincidence and seem to show us that there is Someone watching over us and calling out to us. These conversations reminded me of exactly that: God is there and He is calling to me at every moment.

Have you had any “coincidences” like this in your own life? How is God calling out to you through them?

Blessed is He who comes...

As we were singing the "Hosanna" in Mass yesterday, it struck me that this is what the people were singing to Christ as He entered into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday. A few days later, the same crowd betrayed Him, hurling insults and spitting in His face. 

And so later in the chapel I asked myself: Am I praising Him with my lips and betraying Him with my heart, like the people of Jerusalem? The question made me uncomfortable. (It should probably make you uncomfortable too, if you really think about it.)

Ultimately, the fruit of my prayer with this question was that I must not simply praise the Lord with my mouth, casually or superficially when life is peachy. No, I must praise Him from the very depth of my being, thanking Him at all times for the love and mercy He continually showers upon me. During the Mass I must turn towards Christ as He enters through the gates of my heart, disguised under the appearance of bread, and I must praise Him with my whole self. And later, when I leave, I cannot turn away from Him, for He still resides in my heart. My whole life must proclaim the glory of the Lord. 

Expression of the Father

“The word which God speaks to us in Jesus is not simply one word among many, but his eternal Word.”  - Lumen Fidei, 15

As Christmas rapidly approaches, here are a few thoughts about what it means that the Word of God was made flesh. My hope is that reading this will prepare your hearts and minds a little bit more to receive Him when He comes.

First things first: what is a word? Merriam-Webster says that a word is “a sound or combination of sounds that has a meaning and is spoken or written.” A word is a way that we communicate an idea, usually through sounds. But there is also a visual element to a word as well. It can be written on a piece of paper. Or in the case of a deaf person, a word can be signed.

As you are reading the words that I have written here, hopefully the ideas that I have in my brain are taking shape in your brain. This is what words do. They express ideas or concepts. A simpler example would be the word “cup.” When you see “cup” you might picture something like this:

or maybe this: 

or even this:

The point is that when you see or hear the word cup, it brings to your mind the basic concept of what a cup is and what it does. Words express ideas.

In the same way, Christ, as the Word of God, is an expression of the Father. At the same time, He both expresses God and is God: “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God” (John 1:1). God our Creator, wishing to communicate and express Himself to us, sent Christ to make Himself known. God speaks to us through Christ.

But was it so important that “the Word became flesh and dwelt among us”? (John 1:14) We finite human beings are incapable of fully comprehending an infinite and divine Being. (If this blog post isn’t enough evidence of that, I don’t know what is.) So the Word took on human flesh and a nature that we can understand, because it is just like ours. At the same time, “the Word was God” (John 1:1). He remained fully divine. By speaking to us in human words and human actions, but with divine authority, Christ revealed who the Father was and showed God’s great love for each of us.

What great love it was for the Word, the Second person of the Trinity, to become man so that we might understand a little bit about God! It is like a very intelligent father bending down to explain to his four-year-old son, in the simplest of terms, what quantum physics consists of.