Loving and Waiting in Perfection

You know that feeling that comes when it seems like you just can't catch a break?  That overwhelmed, tired, and worn-down feeling that is expressed peacefully with a shake of the head in disbelief ... or loudly with a stomp at the ground and angry, yet honest, shouts of frustration towards the Heavens? That's been me. I've done the disbelieving head-shake and the frustrated stomping and shouting, as well as everything that falls somewhere between.

Remember when I told you that God is making me holy? Well, its been a difficult journey.

I'm not sure when it all started, but I know that it has been going on for some time now. I distinctly remember it in the Holy Land. This time in my life has had two major characteristics. 1.) I have been pulled, pulled hard, in many different directions. Many by choice. There have been countless details in my life that have needed attention. There have conversations with teens that I have loved and would not trade for the world, but that have added to my burden. There have been events and meetings and conversations.  There have been changing friendships, changing lifestyles, and changing calls in my prayer. I have been pulled. 2.) I have felt, more so than ever before, alone. Though many times I have been surrounded by people, I have felt alone in my endeavors, alone in my person, and alone in my prayers. That loneliness has caused suffering.

I spoke also of my struggles and wonderment in regards to the Great Commission of the Gospels. It seems that God needed to stretch me, to increase my capacity to express, and to humble that part of me that takes pride in what I claim to know. Each conversation that begged of me a response to tough questions regarding the Church and God left me feeling abandoned, confused, and far too burdened. Beyond the needs of those questioning, there was another pull here. From God Himself came the pull towards deeper commitment to Him. As stood alone, undesirably called to be the representative of Christ's Church, I felt trapped inside myself. Try as I may, I could not escape.

God offered me little consolation.  I was surrounded by an abundance of desolation. My soul ached, longing for the change to which He called.  My flesh screamed in protest, begging me to give up, to walk away, to find something, anything else. My spirit was breaking.

Then I was reminded, in the most perfect way, of God's immense love. All of those things that caused so much discord within my soul came together for the occasion. I was alone, when asked by someone demanding more of me, to answer big questions.  In His wisdom, God granted me the grace to respond. In my response, God placed traces of the reminders I needed myself - that He loves us; that He truly works for the good of those who seek Him, even when everything in life seems to indicate that it isn't so; that when we are willing to turn to Him in our brokenness, He is able to heal us and change us - really heal and change us. That if He never withheld consolations, we would never realize just how much we need Him.  We would forget that everything we have is a gift, from God.  One that we do not deserve, but He gives nonetheless.

Throughout this time, in my honest prayers, I was left knowing that He was working.  However, that did not make the experience more appealing (or peaceful. As I dramatically declared to one friend, there was not a situation or relationship in my life that had peace. Even with Jesus all I did was cry and cry - hot tears of pain. I could not stop.). I knew that He was making me holy, but I have not the virtue to respond in a well-mannered, virtuous way.  Instead, I often found myself kicking and screaming, questioning and arguing - desperately seeking relief from the burdens I preferred not to bear.

And in all of that, God remained steadfast in His love and fidelity to me. He heard the honesty in the cries of my breaking heart. He listened. He loved.

He waited.

He waited for the unwilling smile that came with true surrender.  He waited for me to stop hiding, to stop pretending to run, not care, and not listen, and to stop telling Him that I couldn't, that He asked too much, that He was making it too hard.

He waited, and He loved. Perfectly.

Eternity

I was reminded again tonight of how essential our ministry is. I was reminded of how important, how significant each and every conversation should be (and is).

We are always, at every moment, dealing with eternal souls that will either live in the sheer bliss of the beatific vision or suffer in the eternal devastation of no God.

We are gifts. We've been given to one another - to lead, to guide, to direct.  Whether it is the child in my care, the student in my classroom, the teen in the youth group, the family member at home, or the friend on the phone, I am meant as a gift from God to that person. To lead, to guide, and to direct. Which way am I leading? Were does my direction send?

Am I a champion of salvation? Do I encourage others in their journey towards God, helping them to discover His will and His love?

I should be. In fact, this is a matter of such utter importance that I have no time not to be.

This is urgent.

This is salvation. It is life everlasting. It is THE journey, and we are meant to travel together.

Mary and the Great Commission

I've always been something of an introvert.  I peacefully enjoy experiencing and feeling, holding things deep within me, and turning them over and over, again and again, with my mind and my heart.  I experience deeply and express only timidly.

I love when the Bible tells us that our Blessed Mother "pondered these things in her heart."  It's and image and feeling with which I readily identify.  I treasure that which I am able to ponder in my own heart.  Imagine how filled - to the brim and overflowing - Mary's heart must have been.  Imagine the glory of God that could radiate out from her heart.  It is a magnificently beautiful description upon which to meditate.

I do so love the moments in my life when the pondering of my own heart overflows into inexpressible joy.

But Jesus did not call us merely to experience God and hold Him within.  He called us to go out, to bring others to His Father through Him.  He promised to be with us always as we bring discipleship to the world. 

The question I've been asking myself is this: does my honest love of being an introvert, one who can ponder genuinely and experience with the depths of herself, keep me from my Great Commission calling?

Granted, I do not hold everything within.  My work in youth ministry, the depths of my friendships, and certainly many of these blog posts are nothing if not the overflowing result of my experience of the God of the Universe.  However, there are many, many times during which I shrink away from a conversation or a situation because it appears so overwhelmingly contrary to me.

So, what am I neglecting? Where am I holding back? How much further is God calling me to go? When does my natural, God-given tendency to hold precious things close to my heart - to seldom express - interfere with my call, as a Christian, to spread the Gospel in word and in deed?  How should I be more compelled in my actions to not withdraw into that quiet place, which is good and holy and truly of God, yet comfortable and easy and only one part of the life of a Christian witness?

How do I balance my inward heart and my outward mission?

A Not So Good Day

"Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, until the end of the age." -Matthew 28: 19-20 The Great Commission. That was the Gospel reading yesterday. When I first read it, I thought this is prefect for today. Yesterday was the Parish picnic. The youth minister had made little postcards advertising for a new young adults ministry that he is starting at the Parish. We each had a stack of cards to hand out to the twenty-somethings we saw at the picnic. The whole vision for the ministry involves creating a place in the life of the Parish for this age group. It's all about asking the tough questions in order to prompt discussion that will (by the grace of God and the wisdom of the Holy Spirit) lead to the Truth offered by the Church. The mission for the day: to create a personal connection with the twenty-somethings in order to invite them, personally, to the first "CONNECT" night. As I said, the gospel was perfect for the task. I'm pretty sure there was a part of me that knew I wouldn't be very good at handing out the cards. I'm not very good at approaching people (?) (I guess that isn't entirely true), and I'm easily intimidated. Still, it shouldn't have been that difficult. I went to grade school with these people. All I had to do was stop briefly when I walked by and ask them how their life was going. Then, I could tell them what we were doing at the Parish. I already had the "in". (Something we worked hard to come by when I was an RA) It didn't happen. Well, to be fair, it happened twice. Something about seeing those people paralyzed me in some way. It was strange. Countless times, upon seeing them, I turned the other way, tried to look like I was busy, or walked by without making eye contact, hoping they wouldn't notice me. Pathetic. But why? Why was that my response? Do I still feel that "unworthy" of the popular crowd? Was it the alcohol? Am I just uncomfortable around the drinking? That doesn't make much sense though, I too was holding a beer. What was it then? What was it that made the task so difficult for me? Here is the paradox. My life is pretty well put together. I love the Church. I'm convicted of Her Truths. I'm blessed with undeserved happiness. And for those things, I am deeply, eternally, grateful to my Lord, my Savior, my Father, and my King. I know, believe, and trust that the Holy Spirit walks with me. At all times. In all situations. Without fail. However, yesterday, I was not a woman of that strength. Yesterday, I was a woman of fear. Yesterday, I was more lost than the people I was supposed to be approaching, the people I was commissioned to approach, because I was denying, through my actions (and lack of) the very Truths I have been blessed to have revealed to me. There is this part of me that wants to run from it all. Part of me wants to beg my store manager to schedule me for every Monday night so that I can never go to CONNECT. Part of me wants to hide, wants to pretend like it's just not something God is calling me to. Don't worry though...I won't. Because that would be making the same mistake again. That would be ignoring the gospel (again), which clearly shows that I am called to it. And if I really am the woman I claimed to be two paragraphs ago, I have to learn from yesterday by doing better today. After all, God's grace is so much bigger.