Many times, I think, the standard we set for ourselves of what we think God wants us to be or become is not, in reality what He’s really concerned about. We fret about not measuring up here or there and then get discouraged because of our failure. A word of wisdom from Caryll Houselander:
I often think that the ideal of our perfection that we set up, and often go through torture to achieve, may not be God’s idea of how He wants us to be at all. That may be something quite different that we never would have thought of, and what seems like a failure to us may really be something bringing us closer to His will for us.
So . . . try to be a little bit freer to let go of what may not be His expectations for you and just abandon to His love. He is a good Father–really not that hard to please if we are well-intentioned. “For the Lord sees not as man sees; man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart” (1 Sam. 16.7)
Ever have days when you feel that your life is really of no account–I mean, compared with people like Mother Teresa of John Paul II? You’re “just” at home taking care of three little kids OR you’re “just” working as a clerk in a drug store OR you’re “just ________________. . . you fill in the blank. Reading this excerpt from the book, Mother Teresa’s Secret Fire, may encourage you. (The book was written by the co-founder of the Missionaries of Charity priests.) In God’s eyes, there are no “just”s.
How important can one small, unspectacular life be? Consider this: the good that each of us can accomplish, even with resources and restricted reach, not even a Mother Teresa could achieve. . . . No one else on the planet, and no one else in history, possesses the same network of acquaintances and the same combination of talents and gifts as each one of us does–as you do.
So have hope. God has great confidence in you and in loving those in your life through you. (And doing it perfectly isn’t really anywhere on his checklist, I assure you.)
Another thought about those Philistines (from yesterday’s post). One of the things I do sometimes when I’m under attack is to sing–especially small songs, little ditties I’ve learned over the years like “I will sing of the mercies of the Lord forever” or “I am my Beloved’s and His is mine, His banner over me is love” or “I love you, Lord, and I lift my voice”. It helps us to forget the Enemy and that is a very effective strategy against him. As Amy Carmichael says:
The reason why singing is such a splendid shield against the fiery darts of the devil is that it greatly helps us to forget him, and he cannot endure being forgotten. He likes us to be occupied with him, what he is doing (our temptations), with his victories (our falls), with anything but our glorious Lord. So sing. Never be afraid of singing too much. We are much more likely to sing too little.
But what if you can’t even think of something to sing or your soul is too heavy? Not to worry. Your grief, your sorrow, your heaviness can become a song to Him, a sacred lament. Sing to Him of it. “Then David and the people who were with him raised their voices and wept, until they had no more strength to weep. (1 Sam. 30:4) And what if you feel that you can’t even do that? Take heart. Just turn to your Beloved and ask His Holy Spirit to sing through you, for you are His song, you know.
“And the Philistines yet again made a raid in the valley.” (1 Chron. 14:13) How many of you feel that you are in a sort of valley at the moment–at least in some area of your life: kids, finances, some relationship, prayer, whatever? And then the Philistines make a raid on you as well? Two thoughts about the real reality (I know that’s redundant) of the situation:
Two verses later in 1 Chronicles: “God has gone out before you.” God has gone out before you. He is before you, not just with you. He knows the way in which you walk.
And secondly, so well known to us: “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil, for you are with me.” Even in the valley of the shadow of death–where many of us have walked–I fear no evil, for He is with us.
Today on my way home from dropping one of our sisters at the Ypsi Emmanuel House, I tuned in to Fr. John Riccardo on WDEO. He mentioned that the most used phrase in the Bible, both Old and New Testaments, is “Be not afraid!” He also pointed out that it was said when the recipients were in pretty scary situations. Yet, that is the most common thing the Lord says to us. And, need I say, the most common thing our beloved John Paul II said to us. So, let’s pursue this a bit–why should we not be afraid in a situation that is obviously fear-provoking?
Here’s a little bit of an exercise for you:
Look up one or two of these passages: Luke 1:8-13; Luke 1:26-30; Luke 2:8-11; Isaiah 43:1-5; Matthew 14: 22-27; Matthew 17:1-7; Revelation 1:12-18
Think about the situations which cause you fear.
Based on what God reveals in the passage(s) you read, ponder and write down why you should not be afraid. Let me point out that it’s natural for us to be afraid in many situations, but why does God tell us to notbe afraid?
Feel free to let me (us) know what you find out. (Leave a comment.)
If you’ve got a concordance, look up more passages.
On the occasion of my 25th anniversary of my Final Profession, I had the opportunity of choosing the music for the Mass of celebration. For the closing hymn, I chose the following song. It’s an anonymous poem put to music by one of our sisters. The language is a little quaint, but the message is so true for each of us–and yet we forget it all too often. All of our life is but a response to Someone who has always loved us first.
I sought the Lord, and afterward I knew
he moved my soul to seek Him, seeking me.
It was not I that found, O Savior true.
No, I was found, found by Thee.
Thou didst reach forth Thy hand and mine enfold.
I walked and sank not on the stormy sea.
‘Twas not so much that I on Thee took hold,
as Thou, dear Lord, on me.
I find, I walk, I love, but O the whole
of love is but my answer, Lord, to Thee!
For Thou were long beforehand with my soul.
Always Thou lovedst me.
This is a follow-up on “God is the One at the end of the line” (posted 7/5/09). This quote from Amy Carmichael caused a paradigm shift in my thinking when I first read it, and I continue to come back to it periodically. She’s commenting on how St. Paul called himself a “prisoner for the Lord” numerous times. “Do not be ashamed of testifying to our Lord, nor of me his prisoner” (2 Tim 1:8) :
It takes all the sting out of a disappointment if we see it as Paul did. Isn’t it interesting that never once does he call himself Nero’s prisoner, though he was chained by Nero’s chain and in Nero’s cell? This has been a great comfort to me. We don’t admit the domination of Nero–no, not for an hour. We have to do only with the sovereignship of Christ.
And that brought to mind this same orientation from St. Paul of the Cross, this time in reference to Jesus. “[Jesus] said to Peter, as Peter was wielding his sword against the soldiers who had come to take Jesus, ‘Put your sword into its scabbard. Am I not to drink the cup the Father has given me?’ (Jn 18:11)”
It is significant that Jesus did not say, “Am I not to drink the cup that these soldiers are giving me?” or “the cup that Annas or Pilate is giving me?” Jesus saw everything as coming from the hand of his Father and did not take the cup from those whom St. Paul of the Cross calls “intermediaries”. Jesus took it directly from the hand of his Father.
Can we say the same about the difficulties in our own lives?
Yesterday I took our two postulants to the Divine Liturgy at Sacred Heart Byzantine Catholic Church in Livonia. We’re in the middle of a series of talks on ecumenism, which includes a bit about the Eastern Catholic Churches in communion with Rome. This was their field trip. 🙂
Ukrainian Catholic Liturgy
I’ve been to this church numerous times and love the beauty, the icons, the incense, the prayers of the Eastern Liturgies. I have to pinch myself when I’m there to remind myself that this is our Church. I always remember how John Paul II stressed the need for both lungs in the Church–referring to the Eastern and Western (That’s us–the Latin Church) Churches. It calls to mind this story:
In the 10th century, the Prince of Kiev [present day Ukraine] sent ambassadors out throughout the world in search of the best religion: to the Muslims, to the Jews, the Latins, and the Greeks. When the ambassadors that had gone to Constantinople returned and shared about their experience, the story goes that Prince Vladimir decided without any hesitation for Christianity. The ambassadors said, “We knew not whether we were in heaven or on earth, for assuredly on earth such beauty cannot be found anywhere else. So we do not know what we ought to tell you; but one thing we know well: there God dwells among men who celebrate His glory in such a manner that no other religion on this earth could equal. It is impossible for us to forget such splendorous beauty.”
There may be many of you who aren’t even aware that the Catholic Church is made up of more than just one church. There are, I believe, 22 Eastern Churches that are in communion with Rome: the Melkite, the Maronite, etc. Each has its own liturgy, but we can all participate in each other’s. This is indeed part of the wonder of the Catholic Church.
If you ever, ever have a chance to take your family to an Eastern Catholic liturgy, do so! The one in Livonia is in English–which is, of course, a great help. And the pastor there used to be a Latin Catholic so he’s sensitive to us not knowing what we’re doing at their liturgy.
I give spiritual direction to quite a few women, and we frequently wrestle with what to do with hard situations and how they fit into God’s will. Perhaps one of the hardest is children who have strayed from the faith. I am currently reading Peter Kreeft’s Jesus-Shock and came across this section in one of his “7 beginnings”, in the seventh to be exact. I think it proposes a very true and helpful perspective:
Christ is not, ultimately, our solution. (Is your lover your “solution”?) He is our divine Lover and Lord. All the “problems” of our life are part of His marriage to us, His lovemaking, His foreplay. As Francis Thompson wrote in his classic poem “The Hound of Heaven,” “Is my gloom, after all, shade of His hand outstretched caressingly?”
All things in life must be that, becasue He is not relative to them, they are relative to Him. Everything is, for He is God, and God is the absolute.
He is not the solution to our problems; He is the giver of our problems. Our problems are His tasks and our opportunities, His teaching and our education, His will and our sanctification. Whether they are as small as a dropped earring or as large as a death or (worse) a divorce, everything is somewhere on that love-line that runs from Him to us. He is our Universal Other, the One we are always in dialog with, the One pulling at the other end of the line. Whether we see it or not, whether we believe it or not, we always struggle with Him, not with our problems, our lives, our deaths, our friends, or our families. They are on the line with us; He is the One at the end of the line. Do you have a child who is dead, or who has done something awful, or who is in terrible trouble? (No problem, no “locked door,” can be bigger than that for a parent.) Christ is not a mere means to the end of solving your problem and relieving your sorrow. Your problem, however big it is (or however small), is His wise and loving will to you, even though it may not look wise or loving. It is His deliberate permissive will. And your response to it is your response to Him.
I encourage you to read through that again and to linger on “He is our divine Lover” . . .
Witnesses to Hope 