The Road of Fear and Redemption

"That very day, the first day of the week,
two of Jesus’ disciples were going
to a village seven miles from Jerusalem called Emmaus,
and they were conversing about all the things that had occurred.
And it happened that while they were conversing and debating,
Jesus himself drew near and walked with them,
but their eyes were prevented from recognizing him.
He asked them,
“What are you discussing as you walk along?”
They stopped, looking downcast.
One of them, named Cleopas, said to him in reply,
“Are you the only visitor to Jerusalem
who does not know of the things
that have taken place there in these days?”
And he replied to them, “What sort of things?”
They said to him,
“The things that happened to Jesus the Nazarene,
who was a prophet mighty in deed and word
before God and all the people,
how our chief priests and rulers both handed him over
to a sentence of death and crucified him.
But we were hoping that he would be the one to redeem Israel;
and besides all this,
it is now the third day since this took place.
Some women from our group, however, have astounded us:
they were at the tomb early in the morning
and did not find his body;
they came back and reported
that they had indeed seen a vision of angels
who announced that he was alive.
Then some of those with us went to the tomb
and found things just as the women had described,
but him they did not see.”
And he said to them, “Oh, how foolish you are!
How slow of heart to believe all that the prophets spoke!
Was it not necessary that the Christ should suffer these things
and enter into his glory?”
Then beginning with Moses and all the prophets,
he interpreted to them what referred to him
in all the Scriptures.
As they approached the village to which they were going,
he gave the impression that he was going on farther.
But they urged him, “Stay with us,
for it is nearly evening and the day is almost over.”
So he went in to stay with them.
And it happened that, while he was with them at table,
he took bread, said the blessing,
broke it, and gave it to them.
With that their eyes were opened and they recognized him,
but he vanished from their sight.
Then they said to each other,
“Were not our hearts burning within us
while he spoke to us on the way and opened the Scriptures to us?”
So they set out at once and returned to Jerusalem
where they found gathered together
the eleven and those with them who were saying,
“The Lord has truly been raised and has appeared to Simon!”
Then the two recounted
what had taken place on the way
and how he was made known to them in the breaking of bread."

 

Let’s recap really quickly. The reading starts out, “Now that very day two of them were going to a village seven miles from Jerusalem called Emmaus.” This was the morning of the resurrection and the two travelers were two of Jesus’ followers, two of His disciples, but not of the eleven that Jesus was closest to. Only one of them is named- Cleopas- and some believe that Cleopas’s wife was the other traveler. A few days before, as the city was packed with travelers for the Passover celebration, they watched as He was brutally put to death. Cleopas’s wife, Mary, had kneeled at the foot of the cross and now, even after three days, people were still talking about it. The disciples had scattered but now the eleven, Jesus’ apostles, were in hiding. Jesus had been many places and healed uncountable numbers of people. It says in John that if someone was to write the detailed account of all the things Jesus did, the whole world could not contain them. He was a busy man who touched many people’s hearts. And now, because of His death, He was talked about even more.

That morning, as soon as the Sabbath ended, the travelers' friend Mary Magdalene had gone to bring spices to the tomb of Jesus. The eleven closest disciples of Jesus and others were gathered, hiding in a room. Cleopas and Mary were with them. Some were sleeping, others sat, shocked from the terrible crucifixion and loss of their beloved friend. A few hours later, Mary Magdalene barged into the house and ran to Peter, speaking fast and excitedly. She was crying and laughing and she couldn’t contain her excitement. She told them that Jesus was alive. Peter and John got up instantly and ran, coming back a while later to say that her story was indeed true. Perhaps Cleopas and Mary felt that they were done, that they could not believe these rumors, these falsehoods. Hadn’t they seen the nails go in His hands and feet? Were they not there when Jesus’s side was pierced?  Sometimes we become too familiar with these stories and forget that crucifixion was the death penalty. It was dishonorable, it was embarrassing, it was barbaric and cruel.  And they were witnesses of Jesus being subjected to it.

Whatever the reason, these two disciples began to travel to Emmaus. And as you know, as they walked and were talking and debating, Jesus began to walk alongside them and question them. They are shocked that this stranger does not know what has happened. How could He have not heard the yells of the angry mob, the wailing that seemed to come from every corner of the city? Jesus was a dearly loved celebrity and this stranger had not heard of what happened to Him? Cleopas gives the man a summary of what has happened, including the hope that many had shared. “We were hoping that he would be the one to redeem Israel,” he says. The stranger then begins to interpret the scriptures for them, explaining Moses and all the prophecies that pointed to the Messiah. Walking moderately for seven miles takes a little bit over two hours, but with the traffic of people leaving after Passover, it may have taken even longer. So they arrived in Emmaus and they urged him to stay with them since it was nearing evening and getting dark. Jesus then broke bread and they realized that it was Him! Jesus then does this vanishing act and, even though it’s dark and dangerous, they go back to Jerusalem and tell the others.

 I really want us to focus on a few sections of this story and apply it to our own lives. Think about a time you have been down, miserable, depressed, sad, lonely, doubtful, angry, or grieving. Oftentimes, it is in these moments that we turn away from God. For Cleopas and the other disciple, they were leaving Jerusalem, the city of the cross. They were trying leave all that had happened behind, including Jesus. When we have hard times, it can be easy to walk away. And if Jesus wasn’t who He was, we would still be walking. Cleopas would have stayed in Emmaus.

But Jesus didn’t just let them go. He didn’t give up on them just because they gave up on Him. He doesn’t leave us because we leave Him. Just like in this story, Jesus comes and walks right along with us, He makes things clear for us, He doesn’t mind walking on the dusty path with us, and He isn’t offended when we don’t recognize Him right away. He counsels us and isn’t afraid to tell us that we are being foolish. But He never leaves us on our own. He strides with us and offers us the truth.

A pinnacle moment in this story is when they get to Emmaus. They could have let this stranger keep going and the story would have been over. But they persisted. As it says in the story, “they felt their hearts burning within them as He spoke” and they chose to listen to it and invite Him to stay with them. Then Jesus revealed Himself to them in the breaking of the bread, the Eucharist.

I was really convicted by this part of the story. I had to ask myself today, “When Jesus speaks to me, and I feel in my heart what is right, do I listen? Do I invite Him in? Because if I don’t, I could miss out on incredible things! When we experience the Eucharist, we are drawn back into the story of the Road to Emmaus. We can bring to the altar all of our grief, all of our sadness, every dark part of us, and Jesus will reveal himself to us in new AND familiar ways.

Be Not Afraid!

Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous! Do not tremble or be dismayed, for the LORD your God is with you wherever you go.

Joshua 1:9

Every day of my life is a new song. Today is a grateful song for the beauty that surrounds me. Yesterday it was a frustrated song because I am struggling with a certain technique my voice instructor is teaching me. Last week, it was a song of joy and love as I invited our retreatants to join in musical worship of Jesus. Looking back on my experiences with Reach, most of my favorite moments have been when I've led the youth in worship. This month especially, I've had an overwhelming response to the music I've played. I've never had so many people be so open about their thoughts about my voice. Their compliments touch me deeply, but also stirs in me a broad gratefulness to God for how He has formed me over the past nineteen (almost 20!!!!!) years to bring me to this place. I was pondering this, and I found buried quite deep was the first time I ever led worship.
It was a hot summer day. It was in front of my peers. I was an awkward homeschooler who loved Jesus and had a deep love for the Holy Spirit, but had a deathly fear of people my age. I hadn't known that I was going to sing by myself. In fact, my older sister, Stephanie, was going to play guitar and sing, and I was supposed to harmonize. That was the plan. All the songs were in her key (I was not as versatile a singer as I am now) and she was ready and confident and I was freaking out.
When we arrived, the youth minister walked up to us and said that they only had one microphone. I was ready to back out. Heck, I was super duper afraid and Stephanie was a superior singer anyways. But nooooooo. Stephanie says: "Oh that's fine. Elizabeth will just sing while I play guitar. It'll be great!" I'm pretty sure that my eyes bulged ten times their normal size. With five minutes until we were on, I prayed fervently, tried to put on a brave face, and then I stepped up with my talented sister.
Let's just say that I sang quite beautifully. I didn't think so at the time, because it usually takes a few years for me to think I sing well, but when I left that stage, I was shaking. "I will NEVER lead worship again!" I cried. Instead of any of my peers singing with me, they'd just stared at me in the most intimidating way and refused to sing. I tried to get them into it, but my encouragement sounded more like judgemental criticism and I felt terrible. In my mind, I had completely failed as a worship leader and I never wanted to go through that again.
But trying to tell myself to never sing again was like telling a mosquito that it could no longer suck blood. Ok, that's kind of a dark analogy, but you get the point. Even though I had nearly no confidence in my singing skills, I couldn't help but start singing with the band that played at our youth Mass. I was one of those people that the congregation looks at and says, "Why is she up there? No one can hear her. Is she just moving her lips?"
I remember my first solo for church. Our leader, Perry, sprung it on me and gave me about 45 seconds to practice before Mass. I got through the solo, but to be perfectly honest, I almost passed out when I sang. I haven't told many people this, but I have a condition called Pallid Breath Holding Spells. I had my first one on my first birthday (we have it on tape!) and have had them continually throughout the years. I've fallen out of trees, hit my head on various objects, and knocked things over because of them. These breath holding spells are usually caused by a change in my breathing and heart rate. It isn't a purposeful change and they usually come on when I'm afraid, in pain, etc. Usually they cause me to pass out or have a seizure. It is typical for this condition to just fade away when a child gets older, but sometimes I still feel the effects of them.
For example, in Nashville this last summer, I kept wondering why my breathing was so terrible when I was singing. I would be in my room practicing and I sang beautifully, then when I got in front of my peers or instructors, I just couldn't get myself to breathe. Looking back, I can see that my breath holding spells were probably the cause of this. There are some days when, no matter how I try, I struggle to breathe normally. This is a good but hard reminder to recognize that I am not in control and that "the spirit of God has made me" and "the breath of the Almighty keeps me alive." (Job 33:4)
Coming back from Nashville, my whole purpose and reason for singing changed. This has made singing for Reach much easier. I can say with confidence that God has truly changed my heart and my voice over the years so that I can draw others into a profound experience with Him. Singing isn't about me or the funny noises that sometimes come out of my mouth. Now there is intentionality when I sing. And the effect it has on others now that my heart is in the right place still shocks me. Honestly I can't wait to see what God has planned for my voice. I know that right now He's working on my confidence in the gift He has given me. It's super difficult to change my perspective on how I sing. Even my voice instructor is shocked by how little confidence I have. Each time I sing, I have to offer it up to Him. Every time I sing for the youth and I see a change in their faces as they are brought closer to Jesus, my heart is brought closer too and He heals me little by little of my fear, drawing me into faith. I will leave you with this verse that gives me encouragement in my pursuit of confidence in the Lord:

Be courageous and steadfast; have no fear or dread of them, for it is the Lord, your God, who marches with you; He will never fail you or forsake you.

Deuteronomy 31:6

The Dynamic Duo

While I've been in Reach I've had the amazing opportunity to intern underneath the fabulous David and Deidre Duo, a married couple who work as full time youth ministers together and just had their 7th child last month. When out to lunch with them one week, I asked them something that had been on my mind for a long time since working with them. "David and Deidre, I've been talking to other married couples and they all tell me the same thing: that they'd never be able to work with their spouse full time like you guys do. How do you do it? It's been so discouraging to hear couples say that they couldn't stand being around each other all day and they wouldn't ever be able to work as a team." 

"Well," David began as she looked up at him adoringly, "Deidre and I have always had a great friendship. We have the same interests and we genuinely enjoy each other's company. But I would say that it hasn't just been that. I would say that it is God's grace that makes us able to be so close and work so well together." 

Their answer was amazing to me. They are almost always in each others company and, while their roles are very different, they work very smoothly together. To see one humbly ask the other what his or her opinion is and really listen to the answer usually surprises me. They didn't seem satisfied with the idea I had read about so often that they couldn't work together. 

I have this habit where I am super interested in reading marriage books, divorce books, and the like. For a long while, a problem in homes has been that  the man goes off the work and invests in his trade to support his family while the woman takes care of the home and the kids, etc. but by the end of the day, both are extremely exhausted a preoccupied, and don't have much time or energy to invest in each other and in increasing intimacy and friendship. I'm not saying that this is always a problem, but many books address the tension that this typical and accepted setup can create. 

For a long time I have found appeal in the type of lifestyle that would require me to have knowledge and investment of and in my husband's work. David and Deidre are youth ministers together, I've known couples in which one was the secretary for the other's office, and I even know two dentist spouses who work together in the same office. Yes, I can understand how having to work with someone day in and day out could get strenuous and annoying. That is a valid concern. There are people I have worked with that I had a really hard time understanding and that basically drove me crazy. But I have also worked with people who, even amongst misunderstandings and being around them every day, I enjoyed working with and still have friendships with them. 

Life isn't perfect and I realize this, but the unspoken conception that marriage has to consist of these certain things, that the husband must go off and the wife stay home or even off to her own job, that spouses can't work together as teams, that their lives should be virtually separate for each other, is stupid. 

I understand that this is not for everyone, but I feel that, when a man and woman become one, being involved in an entirely uncontrolling and rather collaborative way, is a must. Even if we don't work the same job, my hope is that my spouse and I will be able to have extensive  knowledge and understanding of what the other does and that we are invested in what occupies most of our time. I feel that this is important in many respects. If our lives are to be intertwined and woven together, why should the part of our lives that takes up forty hours each week be any different? In a study done by Pew Research Institute in the years 2010 and 2011, it showed that 59% of men between the ages 19-34 considered work the most important thing in their lives. If work is the most important thing in my husband's life (hopefully not) or even a very important thing in his life, I want to share this with him because he is important to me.

I want to be able to support him in his work as he supports our family. I want to be able to help him brainstorm when he's stuck or needing creativity. I want to be able to know what he's talking about when he plops on the couch and buries his face as he says, "Today was a terrible day." I want to be able to share in those   struggles, joys, and times of learning. 

 So what are your thoughts? 

Men, do you find this perspective annoying or refreshing? Women, do you find this repulsive or attractive? 

Conflict

Goodness, it's been a long time since I've blogged. I've started so many posts, but the perfectionist inside me cringes at the thought of posting any of my half finished, poorly organized thoughts. But today, I'm just going to write and not let perfection get in the way. Ashley, Reach's assistant director, told me a few weeks ago that, "Perfection is the enemy of Progress." And perfection cannot be successfully attained by my own control and power. It is something we will receive as a gift from our Father when we reach the heavenly gates.
Today I'm a bit downtrodden. I just read some of my little sister's blog posts. I wasn't expecting to go back and look at memories when I entered her blog, but she had a recap of some of her favorite memories from 2013. All of the memories shocked me like a slap in the face from a stranger.
My way of coping with the intense homesickness I have? Avoid those I miss. Don't even think about them. Once I remember them, nearly unbearable pangs of grief and loneliness hit me.
I guess I should mention, before I continue, the changes that have happened on Reach since we got back from Christmas break. Before break, Reach consisted of seventeen people, six of whom were on the Holy Family Reach team. There was one team member who consistently made my life and the lives of my other teammates extremely difficult. I won't go into detail, but it was obvious that this teammate didn't want to be a part of our team. The day before we were supposed to be back in Helena, I got a call from this teammate. He said that he wasn't coming back.
A few days later, I got a call from Ashley. She said that one of the other teams had also lost a male teammate, but for a more honorable reason: he had been offered his dream job at a mission church in Mexico and the faculty at Reach had encouraged him to take it. With this in mind, and with two teams now consisting of one boy and a million girls, they decided to move our male teammate to the Yakima team so that the boys could have male companionship. This made our team into an all girls team.
We are an awesome dream team! Ministry is amazing, team life is amazing. I was telling Ashley that I hadn't been depressed since Christmas break. And this is where we come in again to my homesickness.
I honestly haven't been depressed at all, but this homesickness is a worry to me. I want to be able to deal healthily with it, but is there a way to deal with homesickness? Or does it always stay? The idea of letting myself feel this makes me concerned that I won't be able to get over it. That I will just be stuck in it. But then, to block myself from this feeling, this desire for companionship with my family, seems like I am denying myself of a human and God-instilled need.
There are also some other things that are worrying me. The past few weeks, little things have been consistently, pretty much every day, coming up that seem to be pointing to a career in acting. For those of you who don't know, for a very long time I wanted to pursue film and acting, maybe even go to school for it. I decided to give it up last Spring though, because of the bad experience I had at school. I was shocked by the manipulation tactics of those in the theatre business and how conniving and sneaky they were in getting me and others to do things I wouldn't have first signed up to do. My dream was shattered by the shame I felt after that stupid class. So I decided to go to the next best thing that I was good at. I went to singing.
I've always loved singing, but acting was my first love. But that wasn't an option anymore. I was accepted into the Fine Arts Summer Academy as a vocal soloist and my first solo singing performance in my life (other than church) was on the Grand Ole Opry stage. Talk about pressure! Singing in front of others was so difficult, so humbling, so strange. So I decided that I would try it out. Maybe go to school for a degree in musical performance. Perhaps do that for the rest of my life.
The more I thought about it, the more I looked into schools, the less I wanted to do it. I had a perfect plan though. I would take the year long Music Theory program at my community college and then in 2015 I would take music exams to enter into a university.
Then this month, everything changed. I started to apply for youth ministry jobs. I wasn't satisfied with that though. Something just wasn't right. One day while I was updating my work resume, I decided, "I need to make a performance resume." So I created one with the help of some websites with my acting experiences, special talents, training, head shot, etc. Within a few days, I randomly felt like I needed to send it to Beccy Lanier with Sherwood Pictures. So I sent it, honestly not expecting anything. When she emailed me back she said that, while they weren't making any new films, the Kendrick Brothers were and that she had forwarded it to them because they were now accepting applications for actors in their film they were working on. So I went on their website and filled out their form.
I actually loved filling it out, because there was a part on the application that asked for me to explain my religious beliefs and story. Most online forms limit your characters to about 500 or 800. This section gave me one thousand words. I thought it was beautiful that this was a part of their application.
So now I'm waiting in anticipation. I'm scared. I try to control my feelings, my homesickness but also my huge desire to be a part of this film, to use my gifts to serve others and to draw them closer to my sweet Lord, Jesus Christ. Allowing this ache to act arise in me again is super painful. I want to act so bad, but I don't want to feel the agony of being rejected. I don't want to hope. But I keep feeling that certain things are coming up that point to acting being my calling. I'll be in Mass and a part of a reading will point to this desire in my heart. I'll be reading scripture and a verse will pop out to me and it will point to the same thing. I'll be speaking with someone or listening to a homily and the arrows are in the exact direction. I'll be having a conversation with God when in prayer, and He will say things that allude to this.
I am just super conflicted with doubt and fear. I don't want to get attached to this idea and be hurt by it. Fear is the absence of faith. I don't want to be unfaithful.
If you, my friends, could please pray for me, that I would open up my heart, that He will give me a sign, that I would find clarity in all this, that I would know what to do next year, that I would only do His will not my own, I would be very, very grateful.
God bless you and to God be the glory forever.

Advent is all Year long.

Well, December is here and the Church's new year has begun, bringing with it the season of Advent. Being on Reach has filled even these few days we've had of Advent with much reflection of what this period of expectation means. An advent is an arrival of something long waited for. To be in the midst of Advent is to be in the presence of waiting. Advent isn't just a time during December, being in advent is something we experience all year long, all life long. 

Right now I'm in advent over my future. What does God have in store for me? Now is the time when people are making decisions for what they will be doing next year and I am not exempt from this responsibility. 

Will I pursue music? Will I go on more missions? Does God have someone He wants me to court and marry? Will I live at home or move on my own? Will I be able to get a steady job? 

All of these things weigh heavily on me, but I also look forward to them with joyful anticipation. I know that many of my fellow Reachers are going through similar things. They are applying for grad schools, interviewing for youth minister positions, planning and discerning what will come next, living in faith that God will continue to lead them even when they can't see further than one step ahead, trusting that, as it says in one of my newly favorite songs, "You've never failed, you won't start now!" 

Ever year during the season of Advent, we wait to experience again and again the joy of Jesus's first coming that the world experienced two thousand years ago, but we also look forward to and are reminded of His future coming. We hear stories of people who waited and waited for Jesus- Isaiah who prophesied His coming, Mary who waited nine months for her precious child to come, stories that inspire wonder and awe and the desire to be patient. As I wait for my Lord in physical form, I am challenged to wait for His plan for my life, to surrender joyfully and wait. He knows all the little details and every single huge aspect of the plan. All I have to do is wait on Him, listen to Him, and respond to His directions, whether in action or in the moments He simply asks me to sit and be still awhile. Those quiet moments are often the hardest, but most rewarding. I encourage you, dear friend, to surrender every project, plan, relationship, idea, every piece of you to Him every day. It is difficult and is a life time process, but let us start now and not wait for a "better time". Let us start the journey of surrender now and continue to look forward to the coming of our Lord. 

To conclude, I want to share a beautiful advent prayer that one of my teammates found this morning:

Come, long-expected Jesus. Excite in me a wonder at the wisdom and power of Your Father and ours. Receive my prayer as part of my service of the Lord who enlists me in God's own work for justice.

Come, long-expected Jesus. Excite in me a hunger for peace: peace in the world, peace in my home, peace in myself.

Come, long-expected Jesus. Excite in me a joy responsive to the Father's joy. I seek His will so I can serve with gladness, singing and love.

Come, long-expected Jesus. Excite in me the joy and love and peace it is right to bring to the manger of my Lord. Raise in me, too, sober reverence for the God who acted there, hearty gratitude for the life begun there, and spirited resolution to serve the Father and Son.

I pray in the name of Jesus Christ, whose advent I hail. Amen.

On a Piece of Music

On a Piece of Music

By Gerard Manley Hopkins 

How all's to one thing wrought!

The members, how they sit!

O what a tune the thought

Must be fancied it. 

Nor angel insight can

Learn how the heart is hence: 

Since all the make of man

Is law's indifference. 

[Who shaped these walls has shewn

The music of his mind, 

Made known, though thick through stone,

What beauty beat behind.]

Not free in this because 

His powers seemed free to play:

He swept what scope he was

To sweep and must obey. 

Though down his being's bent

Like air he changed his choice,

That was an instrument 

Which overvaulted voice. 

What makes the man and what

The man within that makes:

Ask whom he serves or not

Serves and what side he takes. 

For good grows wild and wide, 

Has shades, is nowhere none;

But right must seek a side

And choose for chieftain one. 

Therefore this masterhood,

This piece of perfect song,

This fault-not-found-with good

Is neither right nor wrong,

No more than red and blue,

No more than Re and Mi,

Or sweet the golden glue

That's built for by the bee. 

[Who built these walls made known

The music of his mind,

Yet here he has but shewn

His ruder-rounded rind. 

His brightest blooms lie there unblown,

His sweetest nectar hides behind.]

Disclaimer!

Dear friends,

First of all, thank you for reading my blog, it means so very much to me! I wanted to just write a little note and explain briefly about my last blog post. A few of my readers were worried about me after reading it and I want to put all y'all's minds at rest. 

The Dark City (a poem of sorts) was not about a "dark night of the soul" experience I was going through or had gone through, nor was it about me. I wrote this because I was inspired by a little quote one of our youth gave me on a retreat saying, "The most dangerous word in the spiritual life is later." 

This poem talks of a place where "later" is the anthem and where people are so lost they believe courage to be a fable! This is a place where Christ is rejected, literally, every day. 

I am so sorry if it sounded like I was going through a dark time! My poem was written merely to show a spiritual world of darkness and then to show redemption when Christ is accepted. 

God bless and keep you! 

Soli Deo Gloria!

Elizabeth

The Dark City (a poem of sorts)

The Dark City-

Hope rises in the darkest times,

When hearts beat faintly and blood trickles fatally,

At the hour when putrefaction rots the mind

And shadows skulk and all the streets evolve into one foreboding alley. 

Seized with fear the people be,

Silenced by their children's screams in the night,

By their blood coursing down the street,

Too paralyzed to contend for their lives. 

Roses no longer have fragrance or shade  or remind of love, but are stems with razor-sharp  thorns. 

Water is bitter and acerbic. 

No sunrise greets them in the morn,

The light in their world has been bludgeoned. 

Maybe a hero will come,

Perhaps a savior will emerge. 

How can one be summoned

When no one has the courage?

For here courage is naught but a fable,

A theory from ages past,

But no one is willing or able

To join underneath a foolish flag raised on a legend mast. 

They dare not complain anymore

For it was we the people who decided our fate

And made our place of hope quite poor,

Thus creating a dismal rule and making prison for our souls not up for debate. 

Every day at the three o'clock hour

A man walks through calling at the quickly closed shutters,

"My love, My love! Let me take you away and deliver you from this power!"

But their minds won't leave the gutter and his gentle voice makes them shudder. 

"Leave us alone," they shout, "we love the dark!"

But he still comes each day, reaching for the hearts they've forgotten they have. 

He sings out like a lark, "Come, my love, come!" But it doesn't reach their hearts. 

He offers healing, but they loathe his restoring salve. 

I live with and am one of them. 

I wallow in darkness and won't consider life. 

I enjoy my selfish sin and won't cave in. 

I'd rather abide in horror and strife. 

Later, later, I always say. 

Tomorrow is when I'll be saved.

Lord, perhaps a more convenient day,

Then I will give my heart away. 

But now is the time,

Today is the day.

My salvation is on the line!

Later is a most dangerous word and will make me dearly pay. 

Lord I accept your call,

I am weary of the dark.

I didn't know I could fall this far

Or that I could burn in hell from one mere spark. 

Thus a singular person chose to bring a candle of light

Into the dark world,

In everyone's sight,

And by this choice and from this place, darkness was hurled. 

~Elizabeth Andersen

This is all of joy

He is as zephyred winds upon the soul,

They said,

And cloudless cloister skies

Yawn over the galeless haven of the heart.

 

Strange, no one said His love would be

A vague unrest in all my deepest peace…

 

They spoke with sighs of flowery cloister ways

And of His smile

Like satin songs of evening.

 

But not a word was ever said of how

His gentle eyes would flog away repose,

And no one mentioned how His voice would thunder

Down my cool-scented caverns of compromise.

 

My hands, according to their counsel sheltered

For quiet prayer, they never told would bleed

With steep ascents’ crag-clinging, and the feet

They set to flower-bordered ways

They never said would know

Of black rocks’ tearing, tortuous paths

Among forbidden trees.

 

No, no one even hinted at the swords of His demand

That part the flesh from bone and leave the heart

Riven with a wild and white desire.

And no one knows except he once has heard

That loud, imperious call in his own heart

And left all padded satisfaction for the climb

That knows no peak. But this is all of joy.

 

-Mother Mary Francis, P.C.C.

 

I love this poem. It speaks of a faith that is past the skin deep religion of flowers and compromise, a peace that is of our own making. It is the pondering of the idea of a God whose voice is as thunder which breaths down our caverns of compromise, disturbing the façade of a faith that is like pampered skin and gourmet feasts, boasting of many things, but not sacrifice. It shoots down the idea that once you accept Christ, it is an easy path without stones or chasms or snakes or ice or fire, and presents the idea of a real Christian, suffering on a path of trial, a path of pain and climbing a never ending mountain that “knows no peak”. A path of spiritual flogging, bleeding hands, separating flesh and bone, and invoking in the heart an unquenchable desire to leave all comfort in pursuit of a higher, louder calling that is imbedded in us. This calling is suppressed, though, by believing the voices that surround us, telling of a faith that, here on earth, is comfy and cozy and full of ease, and not at all painful or challenging or tasking.

I had always felt that there was something wrong with me when I compared what my experience of Christianity was to what many of my friends told me. Back in Jesus’ time some believed that if you sinned you became ill, and in a similar way some of my friends would tell me that I wasn’t supposed to be having a rough time, that I was overthinking things, that I was too serious, that God wanted me to be joyful, that there was something wrong if I was constantly having to be healed by God from things. For a long time I struggled with the idea that if my heart was hurting, I couldn’t bring it to God, because He didn’t want to deal with a small so-called Christian who couldn’t get the system down. I was extremely wrong.

I have learned that God appreciates honesty, especially recognizing that we cannot fix our flaws on our own, that Christ waits for us to show Him our scarred faces, our bleeding hearts, so that HE can heal them. Yes, God wants us to be joyful, but a huge part of Christianity is being refined. I feel that we must suffer in this life so as to be purified for the next. Joyful suffering may sound like an oxymoron, but this is what we are called to endure. So many people separate these two words, but recognizing that we are being formed into who we were created to be, by fighting sin and temptations by, for example, stretching ourselves to treat others with kindness and respect, choosing to remain silent so as to listen better to others, waking up a little earlier so as to give undivided attention to Him in prayer, etc. are all extremely important. These are examples of small moments of suffering that draw us ever closer to Him by purging us of our selfish and sensual desires. I love that the poem goes to great lengths to describe the agony and surprise of following Christ, but ends it with “but this is all of joy”, for we truly find our joy as we scale the insurmountable peaks of daily improvement and purification. So let us be encouraged and spurred on to invite God to cleanse us from sin and to find the joy that is offered to us in the little sufferings of everyday life.

Awakened

So this weekend my team and I helped with a retreat called an Awakening. I won't go into all the little details of what goes into one, but I just wanted to share what my experience was. I usually go into retreats hoping and praying that I will be used by God to minister to the kids and while I was hoping for this, I was really struggling with depression this weekend. For as long as I can remember I have battled with depression and usually I am able to combat it well, but it hit me really hard the day we left for the retreat.

On Friday night we did an activity in which we had to pick one of the many different paintings in front of us that best described our faith life. I wanted to pick the one with the man holding a little girl's hand and using an umbrella to shield her from outside things, but the painting that I most related to was one of a miserable clown clothed in black and white surrounded by a harsh spotlight. It was weird for me to admit that, to be honest with myself and God that I didn't feel as though my relationship with God was in a bright and happy place.

That night we also had a forgiveness talk by named David Casey. I am interning under David and his wife, Diedra, at their youth group at Our Lady of the Valley parish. David started out his talk by giving us pennies, symbolizing a person or an event or sin, whatever we thought needed to be forgiven, gave his talk and then played music, giving us time to place our pennies in a vase filled with water, symbolizing God’s sea of forgetfulness. There were some memories from my childhood that I have struggled and struggled with for many years and that night I decided to give up my pride and humble myself before God, choosing to forgive as He has forgiven me, giving Him those memories. 

On Saturday we had multiple talks and activities, fun and serious. Melissa, one of my teammates, gave an amazing talk on a certain aspect of our relationships with God. She talked about how, when she was younger, she had a hard time looking people in the eyes and struggled with self-esteem. At one point she asked us to write down what we feared that God thought about us. After that we were supposed to write what we hope He thought about us. I realized that the seemingly harmless fears that constantly clouded my mind when I was with my teammates had transferred to fears I had about what God thought of me.

I thought that God (and my team) saw me as worthless and not worth His time, that I was His big mistake. I hoped that God wasn’t ashamed of me, that He liked me how I was, and that He had a plan for me, but those two lists were extremely different, and at that point I knew that I believed in the wrong one.

Later I got a letter from one of my teammates who didn’t come on the retreat, but this was no ordinary letter. Kristen is absolutely hilarious person who wrote a story for each of us Reachers who were helping out. She started mine out in a way that struck a chord so deep in me that I started crying reading it.

“One day in a castle in a land far, far away in the Tri-Cities of WA, lived a chaste and modest princess named Elizabeth…”

 

I’m the kind of person who loves stories, especially ones that involve princesses. Yes, I had read all those Christian princess stories as a little girl, but the idea of being a princess hadn’t really hit me hard until that night. I felt more like the village prostitute, not the beloved daughter of the King. Kristen wrote this very humorous, but sweet story about me and, through someone else’s eyes, I was able to glimpse what another person saw when she looked at me. She didn’t see a failure. She saw a princess. I haven’t known Kristen for very long, though our team is very close, but she remembered little details she has gleaned about me since we met and put them in the story. In one part of the story, she wrote that my prince charming bought me socks to woo me. To other people, that just sounds random and silly, but actually Kristen remembered the story I told her of the time my mom bought me socks as a random gift one day and it made me feel so loved that I still talk about how much I cherish them. She also remembered that I consider children to be incredible blessings, so I would love, God willing, to have many. So she wrote in the Epilogue that my husband and I had 25 children. Little things like that, she remembered. The fact that she took note of these things surprised me because it showed that she truly cared about getting to know me.

I was overwhelmed by the realization that Kristen had a good opinion of me and that God had a better opinion of me than those people around me, that His love is constant and always there. I went down to my room, actually a classroom, after we had made sure all the kids had gone to bed and stared bleakly at the blank chalkboard in front of me.

Picking up a piece of chalk, I wrote “I am cherished.”

BAM. One kick in satan’s pants.

“I have worth.”

BAM. Second kick.

“I am funny.”

BAM.

“I am not too much.”

“I am not unlovable.”

“I am worth getting to know.”

“I am not stupid.”

“I have good things to say.”

“I am worth cherishing.”

“I am not afraid of men.”

“I am CONFIDENT.”

“I am not afraid.”

“I am Christ’s hands and feet, but mostly His Heart.”

“I am acceptable.”

“I am not afraid of Beauty,”

“I am Creative.”

“I am kind.”

“I am not mean.”

“I am gentle.”

“I am filled with joy.”

“I am Simple.”

“I am a part of His plan.”

 

I sat back, looking at my work, at the truths I had written. These truths had, for many years, been considered as lies, but I was just recognizing them for what they really were and I was realizing who I really was. I was and am good, and was created to be good.

Just yesterday and today I was studying the Gospel reading for next week, which is Luke 18:9-14, the parable of the Pharisee and the Tax Collector. I got many things from it, but one thing I realized is that the Pharisee, who was self-righteous, judged himself by comparing himself to others, while the Tax Collector judged himself by God’s standards and repented. For too long I have tried to see through others’ eyes and see if they liked me to judge whether I was likable or not. I based my self-worth on what I thought other people were thinking, which is a really bad idea! While there are always improvements that can be made in me, this does not make God love me less. I don’t have to be perfect to be loved and His love is not based on my performance. Even though I still have a hard time accepting this, now I know that God isn’t calling me to sacrifice or make myself better out of a desire to be loved by Him, because I will always have His love, but rather I should do these things to love Him back, to reciprocate my love for Him. Such a boundless joy will spring from this sort of love! Thank you Lord for letting me lean on you while you heal this fear in me. I praise your holy and wondrous name!