Love My Jesus

How do I make them love my Jesus when the Jesus the world wants is all unicorns, rainbows and warm fuzzy feelings? My Jesus, the real Jesus, requires I share in His sufferings through trials, hardships and my own suffering in this life? How do I convince a secularized American Christian culture addicted to convenient, perpetual, and cost-less self pleasure, and instant gratification, that sorrow and suffering are joyful companions? How do I show them that there is no greater pleasure or lasting internal gratification to be found than in suffering right alongside the Jesus who suffered for them?

I’m supposed to be a witness that makes other people want Christ in their lives, but how can I be? I’m 34 years old and those 34 years have been mostly filled with great trials, painful failure, abuse and hardships. Who would want what I have? Especially, when they find out I really don’t want it to be any different. A counter-cultural and inconvenient earthly life is the success standard I want my life to promote?! I firmly believe that this is where holiness is to be found and I want, more than any earthly pleasure or treasure, to depart the earth as soon as it”s my time, and instantly find myself with Christ in paradise. Wouldn’t you think, they want that too? I don’t want to go to purgatory. I’m afraid of how much purgatory is going to hurt!

If we think this life can be hard and painful, it is nothing but a single tear drop in comparison to those who must prepare for eternal joy, with You in heaven, by going through the excruciating and purifying fires of purgatory. If they have led a relatively comfy, pleasurable life as a Christian…counting on diseased faith and purgatory to get them into heaven. And if, by the skin of their teeth they make it, how will they endure the sufferings of which no person on earth has ever even experienced near the pain and tribulation souls must endure there? They will endure it, because You are a God of inexhaustible patience, assisting us to the very end. But they will be sorry they didn’t live their earthly pilgrimage in more intentional preparations for their eternal home in the Promised Land.

My Faithful, Father God, I pray for the souls in purgatory. I pray they will yield to the flames which make them holy and clean and that you will welcome them, at last, into Your kingdom of no more tears, sorrow or pain.

Faith in Jesus is the only prerequisite for entrance into heaven. But faith without works is dead. We are told to work out our salvation with fear and trembling. Beware if you have an easy life with little need, want, or suffering. I think I have it easier than you. Since my hardships have been forced upon me, I have not had to work to find opportunities for growth in faith through suffering. But you may need to get intentional about finding ways to sacrifice until it hurts. And then ask for more. I’m way more afraid to shine my light in the world than to suffer many hardships, because won’t other Christians and non-Christians take one look at my life and high-tail it in the opposite direction as fast as they can? I am certainly not a warm, fuzzy, comforting example of a Christ follower. (Sometimes my own witness causes my own self to wonder what I’m doing.) I’m afraid I will scare more people away from Christ than win them for Him. How do I make you see the very real and valuable treasure I have stored up for myself in heaven? And that other-worldly treasure is the wealth and security which most makes a person rich and truly happy.

Missing Finesse

Driving home this evening, I asked myself why a good kick in the bum from a total stranger in a book I voraciously consumed over the past two days, despite his abusive and rude comments would have a better effect than a friend saying the same things in a less abusive manner. Why does the truth about my need to change in certain areas glow neon green after hearing it this time from a strange author who I have no personal affiliation with? The book, by the way, is People are Idiots and I can Prove it by Larry Winget.

This is how I answered the question for myself. Tell me if you agree. Many well meaning friends and mentors lack an important relational tool called “finesse.” They’ve got the hard knock truth and the tough-love advice tools well oiled and ready for the task at hand. The trouble is, without a bit of finesse to ease up the pressure from the hard-knock advice and tough-love tools, their work is just not as effective….or maybe the result of their good intentioned effort, has become a total disaster.

I get a lot of the tough-love and hard-knock advice adjustments made on me these days. I finally realized there must be a reason for it, but despite my best effort to give the heavy-handed ”tool users” the benefit of the doubt and to remember that they must be saying and doing this or that because they care, otherwise they wouldn’t bother to hurt me, the message still didn’t get through. My relationships, and my esteem, have suffered. Worse than that, I couldn’t see what it was they were seeing in me that needed my attention to change. So it all seemed like wasted labor.

When a complete stranger, who is genuine and authentic in his delivery of hard-knock truths, says that my life is in a mess cause I want it to be. That I am fat because I want to be. That I am broke because I want to be. Even though he lacks finesse, there are no relational expectations to muddy up the truth of the message that I need to change and it is my own responsibility to do so. I may think he’s rude, but I also can see his point. This is true of everyone, not just me. I’m not the only one that has areas in need of change or growth. But the cool thing about this book is that I am reminded that the only person’s issues that are of my concern are my own!

No, that doesn’t mean that I would not speak to a friend with hard-knock truth or tough love if I was aware that they needed a good solid kick in the bum. What it means is that I’m adding this handy-dandy tool called “finesse” to my relational tool box. I know from my own personal experience that if a person is not a complete stranger, considered an expert in his/her field and authentic in their desire to help people–even complete strangers–there is no way that hard-knock advice and tough-love alone are going to be effective. It is a good friends responsibility to tell their loved ones (friends and family) how it is, within reason. Don’t sugar coat it or minimize it. Just be sure what you are wanting them to change is really for their benefit and personal growth and not for your own convenience or your own preference. And be mindful not to hound or drill the issue. Say it, be truthful, forward, and selfless, then let it be the other persons responsibility from there. And always remember to ”finesse” the message with a healthy dose of unconditional acceptance, genuine affirmation and enduring friendship.

Finesse is something that you build up as your grow in closeness and trust with a person. The same is true of the right to criticize, give advice and/or apply that sometimes necessary good kick in the bum! If properly considered as relationships grow, just the correct ratio of hard-knock truths/tough-love to finesse will be available at any time of need!

A Life of Meaning

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I was watching Extreme Home Makeover last night and Tyler Perry was on there. They did two builds, one for a family who has a fleet of busses and ministers to inner city kids with activities to keep them out of trouble and to have adult mentors. The other was The Fishing School, also a minisrty to inner city kids…it’s actually a “private Christian school” offered free to neighborhood families. Tyler Perry had been so moved by these two ministries that he fronted a lot of his own money to help. Half way through the show he said that if he inspired anybody to make a difference in the life of even one child, that was worth it. I was totally inspired. 

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I’ve always wanted to do domestic missions, but have never had the health and energy to invest fully. I look forward to finding that I will be able to devote my life to something meaningful now that my health is improving! I have always had a heart for the elderly and children. I could get myself to weeping for the thought of forgotten elders all alone for years and years and then to die, knowing that no one was there to care that they were gone. I have often prayed  that God would help me find a senior friend in that circumstance, as I think the relationship could be mutually edifying.

 

But one of my big discouragements has been that  many older women I have known, or been around, seemed so spiritually immature, offering little wisdom and little more than complaints about life and a fear of death. It was through these relationships and acquaintances (mind you, these are not people who were udderly alone like I have prayed to be able to minister to/and by) where I realized that people can live their entire lives spiritually dead, or as spiritual babies. Never moving on, for instance, from the question of ‘Why God allows pain in the world.” to “Why do I pain God so much?” Does that make sense? I have been very dishearted by this truth of humanity. I have strived so desperately to break free from the sinfulness and dysfunction of my family of origin, believing that there was substance and goodness outside of their influence, only to discover I seem to be the abnormal one…not my family.

 

Maybe that seems as if I think too highly of myself…but I actually think the opposite. When it comes to my spiritual growth and development, though…I know I’ve come a long way. Pain, trauma, sin and dissapointment have been my vehicles to deeper spiritual awakening. I also know I have a long way to go! I do look at others, much older than myself, and often realize their infancy. But it is not with a “holier than thou” attitude…it is with great sorrow, because I know first hand that life is so much sweeter when one can stop blaming God for their own…or humanities own…pain inducing wretchedness.

 

Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves. Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others. Phil 2:3-4

  

I believe a right balance of self-mindedness and others-mindedness is key to spiritual awakening. Actually, I just noticed that the Bible says “look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others.” Sounds to me like we are to be mindful of ourselves and care for ourselves, but not to the point that we put our comfort before the needs of another. Godliness is not often pretty or comfortable or pain-free. Phillipians goes on to say that our attitude should be the same that Christ had while on earth. “being in very nature God, He did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself nothing…and became obedient to death, even death on a cross!” That’s a lot of needless pain to endure as an innocent man!

 

But Jesus lived the most meaningful life ever to be lived. God asks me to be just like His Son. That means I need to be willing to be molded, shaped, broken, mended and moved by His Spirit and the insight gained through the life Christ lived as a human man of sorrows. I cannot skirt through life trying to avoid pain or unpleasent self awareness. I don’t want to be old and have missed the whole point of my earthly life. Not that I be happy and comfortable in my old age, but that I be tried and true to the end.

Judge Not Shall Set You Free

“I don’t mean to judge, but you don’t seem like the kind of type to be homeless” Said Sam. He picked up my bags, leading me from the homeless outreach center to meet the bus that would take me to the women’s shelter across town. I assumed that he was also homeless, but with his clean cut appearance and bright white smile, he didn’t look like the type to be homeless, either. I realized that the volunteers in the outreach center must not have taken me seriously; as they were no help at all and sent me away sure there was no place in town that would take me in. I felt panicky as I walked back out on the sidewalk. I had come prepared to sleep outside, but I didn’t want to. Before I had a moment longer to fret, Sam greeted me with the assurance that he knew exactly what I needed.

I allowed him to carry my bags; hesitating only a moment when he gestured that we walk through a back alley towards the Workforce Center to use a free phone. He knew I needed to call the shelters and ask for a place to sleep. The friendly female voice, who answered my shaky first attempt, said they did have room and I should come right over. Sam walked me to the correct bus stop, giving me some tips on how to get around. He waited by my side, making small talk, and then hugged me before I stepped on the bus.

I lived at that women’s shelter for 10 months and traveled in circles that homeless men and women frequent, but I never saw Sam again. I felt so completely at ease with this mysterious man in the new city I had just arrived in via a 3,000 mile cross country greyhound trip. Looking back on the way he anticipated my needs and got me on my way to a warm, safe and dry place to stay, I’ve always carried the suspicion that he was an angel in disguise.

No, I don’t look like the type to be homeless or mentally ill. I’m intelligent and civil, clean and kind, and quite a bit of a goody two shoes—though, I dislike the label. That old adage, “you can’t judge a book by its cover,” is so utterly true, and yet we all do it; including myself.

I never realized how closed minded I was until the world was closed on me. Being homeless, diagnosed mentally ill and looking so “normal” and having such a “normal” personality, until the illness rears its unpredictable head, tends to close doors on opportunities and relationships. People don’t see the illness; they only see irresponsible choices and a lack of self-discipline and/or ungratefulness for all they’ve given to boost the potential they see in me.  About a year after I left the homeless shelter, I obtained a state job and was handed the keys to my very first apartment. I carried my new insurance card to the doctors office and requested that she fix me before I had another episode that caused me to lose my new found stability and all the things that caring people had helped me to establish for myself.

There’s no fixing what’s not broken. Following a slue of agonizing side effects caused by medication cocktails that robed my life of nearly two and a half years. I could see that my diagnosis didn’t fit on me. I began to challenge the notion that I had a problem at all, but that instead I just do life differently than the American culture allows. When I try to fit in with the “normal” world around me, I become exhausted, sick and eventually will totally crash. It’s like putting diesel in a gasoline engine. The car may get you from point A to point B, but not efficiently and will likely ruin the engine in short time. We wouldn’t expect our gasoline engine to accept diesel fuel, and yet we expect that all makes and models of individual people will function in the same way.

Three years after I received the keys to my very first apartment, I handed them back. I sold everything I could get a dime for and then found myself jobless and homeless, again. This time I had a purpose in mind. I was going to find out how to do life my way and succeed. Though they cared for me, many of my friends did not support my decision and ignored the fact that two and half years of being improperly medicated left quite a financial wake. If I hadn’t made the choice to leave my job and my apartment on my own, I was going to be fired and forced out. Doors slammed on me that summer; the force opened new windows in my mind.

I finally found out who I am and it was nothing near to what people assumed I was or what I was trying to become in my desire to please the masses. If this was my one person experience, I was sure that there were so many others fighting the same losing battle to fit in. I started to look for them and was challenged on every front of my belief system, values and morals. I saw people fighting the battle with addiction, gender identity, abuse, apathy, sexual orientation, depression, true mental illness, tragic medical illness, grief, self image and eating disorders, spiritual identity, homelessness, and irrational fears. I could no longer look at these people and see only their obvious “strangeness” (that is as opposite to “normalness”). What I saw was human beings trying to fit the American bill that only allows for one type of personhood. I was filled with compassion for them, and for myself.

“Be kinder than necessary for everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle.” The checker who ignores me at the grocery store, the car in front of me driving at an annoying 5 miles under the speed limit, the stern expression on the face of a man passing by me at the gym all represent battles to me; real human sweat, tears and blood that is spilled for the sake of attaining some semblance of unanimity that crushes individual freedom. That is, ones freedom within her own self; to be her own self, to do life her way and succeed in ways that are meaningful to her. I cringe at the way I would return this other person’s sourness with equal sourness of my own. I only added to the number of the enemy surrounding them instead of offering a kindness that might have fell one of their advancing giants.

I know, because I’ve experienced the judgment, the closed expression, the passive rejection of a cold shoulder. Haven’t, you? What I know to be true today, that for years was hidden within my own pointless battle , is that what other people think of me, does not matter. But what I think of other people, matters at a tremendous level to do damage…or to do good. I have two people to please, God and myself. If I please God and myself the effect I will have on other people will be eternal. I cannot please God or myself if I am uncompassionate to those who appear to be different than me. I cannot please God or myself if I am manipulating who I was created to be in order to please other people. Therefore, my battle to fit in can be conquered by setting about pleasing God and myself. Over simplified? Maybe. True? Very. Easy? Not.

It’s hard to stop caring what the people you care for think about you, excruciatingly hard. It’s sometimes hard to not care what a stranger thinks about you. I believe the human heart was made to be in close relation with other human hearts. It’s more natural to cling to what we can see, feel, and that stands right in front of us, than it is to cling to an unseen God or the self that resides inside our being. But freedom is found apart from the approval of people. Freedom to be ones self, mightily and happily, comes out of approving of ones own personhood and knowing that you are approved by the One who created you the way you are. I had to approve of myself before I could approve of another. In fact, allowing the freedom to be my true self, is steadily erasing the inclination to be another person’s judge at all. And I have found love for the likes of people I would have never associated with when trying to be wholly “American”. Homelessness and closed doors are difficult battles. That’s true. But for the one who is truly free, no circumstance is dire, and no enclosed space a prison.

Adorer Bees

Queen with Adorer Bees

In our culture, only the worker bee has been given value.

A worker bee’s job is to provide for the hive and queen. She works tirelessly all the days of her life and finds her enjoyment in being busy and productive. But have we forgotten about the bees that stay in the hive and care for all of the queens needs? I have chosen to call this bee an adorer bee. She doesn’t go out and earn her keep; she is simply there to answer to the queen bee and helps raise up the baby bees. In the hive, the adorer bees are the young bees who will mature into a worker bee and that can be said of people, too. But unlike bees, a person can choose the duties of an adorer all the days of her life.

I am an adorer. Those things that the come naturally for the worker bee Christian such as; finances, busy-ness, logical thinking, and providing for themselves, just don’t come naturally for me. But those things that the worker bee lacks are the things that I was born to do. That is, the matters of the human heart, psyche and spirit.

A worker bee Christian moves so fast and has many tasks to accomplish each day. They aren’t able to always notice the little things that reveal God in our world. So if they don’t notice them, they can’t thank Him for them. The adorer doesn’t get a lot of “provision work” done in a day’s time, but she gets in a lot of thanking and praising God. I rarely miss a God-print; the intricate detail of a blade of grass, a magnificent tree among paved roads and dilapidated buildings, the joy in a person’s weary expression, the beauty of a cloudy wet day, and His Holy Spirit in a melody. Praise is constantly upon my lips and in my heart and thoughts.

I said to my first bible study class at QP that I needed their prayers to be a better pray-er. I told them, I constantly thanked God for stuff and always told Him how wonderful He was. But when it came to praying for people or a need I had become aware of, or to try to be a prayer warrior, it was only in spurts. One of the women commented to me that Praise and Thanksgiving was prayer!

In my understanding that I was made to be an adorer, I realize she is exactly right! A prayer warrior might fall into the category of a worker bee. But an adorer can never cease in praising God for all the ways she sees Him move in and around herself and the worker bee Christians buzzing about her. And even when she doesn’t see Him move, she still knows He is there, because she is intimately acquainted with the Lord. So much so that she can even recognize His shadow. This is unlike the worker bee that spends most of its time outside the hive; the adorer bee spends all of its time in the Queens presence.

An adorer needs to have her physical needs provided for. And a worker bee needs to be nurtured in her spirit and mind, she needs the adorer bee to remember to praise God for even the work of her own hands. Neither is less worthy than the other. Neither is more important to God or to His kingdom work and plans for each one of us. They are both valuable, but only truly useful when acting of the call God has given them. Whether that be to work or to adore; neither is complete without the ministering of the other’s strengths.

In our culture, only the worker bee has been given value. We have created a society of hands and feet to succeed and to earn and to do the work, but no arms to comfort the hurting, no lap to cradle the child, no eyes to see the presence of God, no mouth to sing and shout His praises, no heart to love the unlovely…or even a heart able to selflessly love the lovely.

….to be continued….

Embracing One’s Own Humanity

 

I’ve prayed the rosary this week. But, I’m new to the Catholic Faith and in my laziness I didn’t want to get my cheat sheet so I could do it the right way. Instead, I just mediated on the human life of Christ while I prayed the 50 Hail Marys.

I thought about His ten little fingers and ten little toes. I pictured His virgin mother, Mary, stroking his chubby cheeks and kissing His soft ear lobes like I do the babies in my life. I tried to see Him waddling as he learned to walk and scraping his knee when He tried to move too fast, too soon. I heard the sounds of Joseph, His foster dad, teaching God’s Son the carpentry trade. I tried to imagine what Mary felt as she gazed at his sleeping frame. I wondered what He dreamed.

I marveled at the generosity of God to trade His divinity for the weakness of human flesh. To allow us to borrow, if you will, His very self in the person of His own Son. I saw Jesus wake up early and meet the sunrise. To see it, like even He had never seen it before. From within Time, being in the very sandals of humanity. And I imagined His voice uplifted in favorite psalms and hymns of praise.

Jesus anticipated His ministry and His eyes were bright as He called the twelve to Him. He laughed with them over the meals they shared. He spoke tender words to the weak and ill and healed them with His touch. He happily played and skipped with the children following closely at his feet. He traded sleep for precious hours of  solitary prayer and to draw strength from His Father God.

And then, I chose to walk on further with Him. His fingernails were crusty when He gave the blind man his sight. He had dark circles beneath his eyes when He said to His followers, “My time is near.”  Blood  droplets appeared on His skin as He prayed in the garden, “May this cup pass from me? But not my will; Thine be done.” And at the sound of the armed soldiers approaching, His heart beat ferociously within His chest.

I went with Jesus on His earthy experience to Jerusalem, but the details are too gruesome to recall just now. Finally, He hung above humanity on the cross we nailed Him to. His physical suffering ceased at the prayer in His final breath. After 33 years as a visitor to His created earth and His created people; He cast Himself into the pit of hell with forgiveness still echoing from his silent,  swollen lips.

Sometimes, the effect of prayer is instantaneous, and sometimes it takes years to bear fruit. This is one of those times of a life changing personal epiphany.

This evening, I had forgotten my earlier prayer. I was just singing praise songs to my cats, who seem not to mind my carrying on. I realized through the singing of the lyrics, “When fears are stilled and strivings cease…” that I have permission to embrace my humanity. And that includes my wretchedness and my weaknesses.

It’s not necessary that I present myself to the world as a perfect vessel, for Christ to be glorified through me. Who among us can obtain perfection? Though we all wait for it. We’ll shine like stars, as soon as the cobwebs and closets are cleared out of our shameful life and we are deemed worthy to stand before our fellow men and women.

I fear that my secrets will be exposed. That people may search for the dirt in my life to get me down. And that will probably happen if God desires to use me to serve the many, as opposed to the few trusted friends I would choose to stay safe with.

That’s great! Go for it. Expose my imperfections. All the better if I never forget where I’ve come from and what I’m prone to do and to be. I don’t buy that Martin Luther mentality that I am just a pile of snow covered dung. No. I am a new creation, but I’m still human. I’m still weak and I still struggle with sin and temptation.

Praise be to our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, because His Power is made perfect in our weakness. I am weak, but He is strong.

 He is strong. He strengthens me!  I will hide my life, my future, and my aspirations in Christ because He is strong enough to negate the trouble I’ve seen and will see. He approves of me. He makes all things well. He loves me just how I am, this moment, and how I was before, and how I will be as His perfecting work is carried out in my future.

If I knew the whole of what my God is asking of me, I know I would pass away the instant I caught a glimpse. The very passion of my heart tells me I’m in for a lot more troubles than those I’ve already known. But it also tells me of the joy in the trouble.

“Bless their labors with abundant fruit and may the souls to whom they minister be their joy and consolation here and in heaven their beautiful and everlasting crown.

“The Priestly Life in the mainstream culture. My passion–my utmost desire–is that you, my reader…my neighbor…my friend, will come to embrace your humanity, as well. Don’t wait til the “house is clean” to be a host or hostess. Because, if I’m okay being human and letting God be God, then I’m okay with you being human, too.

I don’t try to get ahead. I don’t pretend I’m what I’m not. I don’t try to be right. I don’t make myself comfortable, unless you are comfortable.

We are many people, but also just one. We share the same emotions, the same miraculous machine called the human body; and we share its vulnerabilities to injury and disease. We have the same fears, the same joys, the same desire to belong and to be loved, and eternity has been set deep inside each of our human hearts.

Whoever wants to be great must be the least. Whoever wants to be first must be last. Look again at the human life God chose to live. There is truth in the words of Sacred Scripture. Truth is found in Love; for ourselves, our neighbors and our Three-in-One God. And Love is found in Acceptance; of ourselves, our neighbors and the proffered grace from our Three-in-One God.

Vianney

 

www.vianneydrama.com 

The story of Father John MaryVianney made me very sad and joyfully inspired to live the priestly life at the same time. But it is this having no attachement to the world that Fr. Anthony de Mello taught, and that St. Vianney embraced, that I am so resistant to pray to have for myself and my spiritual walk with God. Having no attachement to created stuff…no problem, I don’t want it. But created people? I want people. I want people to want me back. I’ll never be content until I drop this longing. God has told me this. But how? I am programmed to need people. It feels good to be liked and it feels bad not to be liked. That is my programming.

 I cannot love you if I need you. That is the truth. Because I use you to support my needs and I don’t really see you and your needs. If I don’t see you, how can I love you? 

The Prayer for Priests by St. Therese of Lisieux ends with: “Bless their labors with abundant fruit and may the souls to whom they minister be their joy and consolation here and in heaven their beautiful and everlasting crown.”

Joy and consolation is what a single person with no family attachments needs from God, while on earth. May those whom I serve (not those whom I am attached to) be my joy and consolation here on earth, and in heaven my beautiful and everlasting crown.

I just want to cry for my sinfulness and yet to surrender my needs is excruciating. The priestly life in the mainstream culture…as a single, undisciplined and wounded woman. What am I thinking?

Speaking of undisciplined, I have been thinking of what I can deny myself on a daily basis to teach my body that I am master of it and not it of me. But my body says to me, “absolutely not, don’t even try it. I will torture you.”