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Posts Tagged ‘Prayer’

This post is a continuation of my Lenten reflections on the Scriptural Stations of the Cross. The station titles and scripture and verse citations, except where otherwise noted, are published on USCCB.org.

Eleventh Station: Jesus Promises His Kingdom to the Good Thief

(Luke 23: 33-34 [and Philippians 2:6-7 – my insertion)

Photo by Dylan McLeod on Unsplash

Jesus, thank You for not regarding “equality with God something to be grasped, but instead “empty[ing] [Yourself], taking the form of a slave,” of a working man’s son, who experienced unpleasant emotions, temptations, poverty, and sickness (Phil. 2: 6-7). Thank you for surrendering to one of the worst punishments a criminal could receive — crucifixion — a punishment involving multiple forms of torture — even though You were innocent. In accepting Your sentence, You showed Your brothers and sisters accused of crimes and those convicted of them — whether justly or wrongly — that no choice they make forfeits God’s love for them or the ability of their lives to have purpose and meaning in Your eyes.

Nothing I or anyone else can do forfeits God’s love. Help me remember this truth and to put it into action by living in solidarity with those who are rejected and/or who struggle to forgive themselves and to have hope.

Help me also to remember the following lessons offered by the exchange between You and the people crucified beside You:

  • Suffering brings You sorrow, and yet, avoiding sorrow is not more important than surrendering to God’s plan for me so that I can become my best self and participate in God’s healing work.
  • Part of being truthful is taking responsibility for my actions and their consequences.
  • When I do take responsibility for my actions and come to you in my woundedness and with sincerity, You will remind me that I’m so much more than any destructive choices. Those choices will not be the end of me if I surrender them to You. You work not only around weaknesses and harmful choices but through them, even if I don’t ask You to. You want me to ask so that I can hear You reassure me that You are near. I am in Your heart, and You are in mine if I invite You in.

Thank You for Your nearness, especially when I feel furthest away from You and when I forget You or don’t understand the Divine plan. Amen

Twelfth Station: Jesus Speaks to His Mother and the Disciple

(John 19: 25-27)

Photo by Hennie Stander on Unsplash

Jesus, Your friends John and Mary, as well as Your aunt and Your mother were embodiments of God’s faithfulness at the foot of Your cross. These beloved ones did not him hide or abandon You when being seen as one of Your group might have been very dangerous for their earthly lives.

Meanwhile, You let these bravest members of Your circle know that you were thinking of them and their future needs.

You make those you draw to Yourself not just friends for each other but family. Thank you for inviting me into the embrace of that family. Help me to experience the Love of that embrace and to share that Love, to participate in the growth of Your family.

Jesus, grant me the grace to support my family and friends in ways that help them experience Your love. Help me to support them, especially at their most difficult times and mine.

The Bible. The New American Bible Revised Edition, Kindle edition, Fairbrother, 2011.

Confraternity of Christian Doctrine, Inc. “Sunday July, 2 2023: Readings at Mass.” The New American Bible, 2001. Universalis for Windows, Version 2.179, Universalis Publishing Ltd., 26 Feb. 2023, https://universalis.com/n-app-windows.htm

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This post is a continuation of my Lenten reflections on the Scriptural Stations of the Cross. The station titles and scripture and verse citations, except where otherwise noted, are published on USCCB.org.

But Men Must Work and Women Must Weep, 1883 by Walter Langley —Photo by Birmingham Museums Trust on Unsplash

Ninth Station: Jesus Meets the Women of Jerusalem

(Luke 23: 27-31)

Jesus, in this scene, You show me how to care for others, even in my most difficult moments. Thank You, Lord. You remind me also of the power of empathy — another kind of sharing, another kind of cross. You remind me that support can be offered using more than muscle. Help me to follow Your example.

Thank you, Lord, for everyone who has supported and will support me, especially my mother and all the women in my life.

Help me to recognize and do acknowledge Your love and sacredness in Your creation, including in my body and the bodies of others, with all their gifts and limitations. Strengthen my hope, please, Lord. Amen.

Photo by Christoph Schmid on Unsplash

Tenth Station: Jesus is Crucified

(Luke 23: 33-34 [with additions from Hebrews 4:15-16 — my insertions])

Jesus, thank You for allowing yourself to be tied and nailed to a cross for me. Thank you for surrendering Your freedom in such an agonizing way so that You could open my door to freedom. Thank You for extending Your arms in love as far as they would go. Thank You for offering Your body to and for me.

Jesus, when I read that You said to the people who crucified and mocked You “Father, forgive them, they know not what they do,” I’m reminded that I “do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with [my] weaknesses, but one who has similarly been tested in every way, yet without sin (Luke 23:34; Heb. 4:15). Unlike You, I fail again and again when I’m tested. Help me “confidently approach the throne of grace to receive mercy and find grace for timely help” (Heb. 4:16). Grant me the grace also to forgive others as You were and are so ready to forgive them and me. Help me to seek and to accept forgiveness from You and from others and to remember that acknowledging what I need—to myself, to You, and to others—is the first step in receiving it. This is as true of forgiveness as of anything else I need. Amen.

The Bible. The New American Bible Revised Edition, Kindle edition, Fairbrother, 2011.

Confraternity of Christian Doctrine, Inc. “Sunday July, 2 2023: Readings at Mass.” The New American Bible, 2001. Universalis for Windows, Version 2.179, Universalis Publishing Ltd., 26 Feb. 2023, https://universalis.com/n-app-windows.htm

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This post is a continuation of my Lenten reflections on the Scriptural Stations of the Cross. The station titles and scripture and verse citations, except where otherwise noted, are published on USCCB.org.

Photo by Francesco Alberti on Unsplash

Fifth Station: Jesus is Judged by Pilate

(Mark 15: 1-5, 15 [John 18:38 and Romans 8:31 — my insertions])

Jesus, as I read this passage, I imagine Pilate being focused on whether You seek power in the way that Pilate understands it. The power that Pilate is concerned about is a power that would come from an ambition to rule in Your place.

When You “You say so” to Pilate’s question about whether You are “the king of the Jews,” I imagine Pilate being reassured that You were no threat to his own power (Mark 15:2-3). He doesn’t see how You being “born . . . to testify to the truth” is a threat to his own power (John 18:38). He hasn’t been challenged by Your teachings as the Jewish authorities have. I imagine he hasn’t sought the true peace that comes from pursuing truth. He seeks only the appearance of peace that consists of making and keeping allies that suit different purposes at different times. This pseudo-peace concerns itself only with self-preservation. I imagine Pilate has this very limited perspective, and that’s why he reminds You of “how many things” the Sanhedrin accuse You of (Mark 15:4) I him.

But Jesus, You didn’t come to save yourself. You came to save creation. You are not concerned with others’ perception of you, except when that perception aligns with how God sees you. For You, the only approval that matters is approval given based on truth.

Jesus, help me to recognize the power of truth and to seek and find lasting peace that comes from its power. Help me to trust that You are embodied Truth and that because You are for me no one and nothing can be against me when I rest in You. Amen. (See Rom. 8:31)

Photo by Samuel Lopes on Unsplash

Sixth Station: Jesus is Scourged and Crowned with Thorns

(John 19: 1-3)

Jesus, open my mind and heart to the areas of my life in which I need to put up sturdier guardrails for myself. May I base my guardrails on the ones You have established for me — Your teachings and the Commandments by which you lived. Help me to remember that good can come from discipline, even though, when I first subject myself to it, it is uncomfortable. Sometimes, when I’m uncomfortable, I find strength not to flee from discomfort in remember that you endured not just discomfort but agonizing pain and that you gave the same Spirit to me that you possessed when you endured being scourged and crowned with thorns. The same Spirit that made you able to bear such pain and more enables me to face trials without being defeated in the long run — that is, if I trust in the Spirit and follow where it leads.

Holy Spirit, help me see the present moment clearly instead of letting regrets whip me. Show me how to use those regrets to make better choices.

Creator, Redeemer, and Sanctifier, help me not to make daydreams and entertainments into idols. Daydreams and entertainments are gifts of creativity. They can point me to You and to Your will for my life, but I need help to remember that pointing to You is not the same as being You. Help me to find rest and inspiration in creativity without being blinded or numbed by it. Help me to remember that You are the source of all creativity and beauty and to thank you for these gifts. Remind me that with You, I can embrace challenges and hardships. I can rest in daydreams and entertainments without hiding in them. I don’t have to use daydreams and entertainments to avoid hardships out of fear they are stronger than we are together. They are not stronger than we are together, and I can’t avoid hardships anyway. I can only delay facing them. Sometimes I can’t even delay facing them despite all the idols I try to put between me and them.

May I praise what You praise, and may my praise be sincere and thoughtful. Teach me to trust in the power that comes from You rather than in prestige and possessions. Amen.

The Bible. The New American Bible Revised Edition, Kindle edition, Fairbrother, 2011.

Confraternity of Christian Doctrine, Inc. “Sunday July, 2 2023: Readings at Mass.” The New American Bible, 2001. Universalis for Windows, Version 2.179, Universalis Publishing Ltd., 26 Feb. 2023, https://universalis.com/n-app-windows.htm

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This post is a continuation of my Lenten reflections on the Scriptural Stations of the Cross. The station titles and scripture and verse citations, except where otherwise noted, are published on USCCB.org.

Photo by Luis Villasmil on Unsplash —Photo taken in a Musem in Santiago de Chile

Third Station: Jesus is Condemned by the Sanhedrin

(Luke 22: 66-71)

This passage reminds me that the prospect of getting to know God is scary because this knowledge beckons me into a relationship with God, one that once I enter into it, changes my perspective and asks me to change how I live. It also asks me to ask questions, the answers of some of which, I won’t like because they invite me to further change, and change can be very uncomfortable. It involves laying down things I carry as security blankets, things I’m more comfortable trusting in than God, things that offer immediate and temporary comfort. Change may also require me to pick up what I don’t want to carry — things that are painful now and that will offer comfort only later.

Jesus, help me not only to hear but also to trust that I’m hearing Your voice. Help me to follow Your voice or to stay where You know I’m needed. Help me not to fear the changes that serving and surrendering to perfect love allow but instead to hope in their positive potential. Don’t let my fear get in the way of Your perfect love. I know that, in the end, nothing I do can weaken the power of that love. Nevertheless, I want to magnify its power rather than make it harder to see. I can be Your magnifying glass by first receiving Your Love, and the extent to which I do that is up to me. Jesus, help me to be open to it. Amen.

Fourth Station: Jesus is Denied by Peter

(Matthew 26: 69-75)

Photo by Saif71.com on Unsplash

It strikes me as I read this passage that while denying Jesus, Peter denies his own true identity and distances himself from a community that he needs and that needs him..

Jesus, when people ask me who You are in my life, and I deny how essential it is that You lived a human life and died a horrifically violent human death so that anyone who imitates Your human life can come to share in Divine life, I not only miss opportunities to participate in the sharing, I present myself as someone other than who I am. I lead a double life. I can’t be divided this way and live close to you or to other people because when I behave this way, I don’t let other people truly know me. I don’t let them know who I am in You. I can’t help build authentic community, community in which love and truth are inseparable from each other if I withhold my authentic self from others. However, not withholding this true self is always a struggle for me because rejection and embarrassment are always a possibility and a fear.

I’m employing the ” Litany of Trust” as armor to take into this struggle. I listened to it again this morning on the Hallow app. If you’re not able to access the audio through the previous link, here’s the text of “Litany of Trust.”

Thank you, Jesus for giving me examples of how to stand firm in who I am and for giving me an example, through Peter, of the consequences of losing sight of who I am, of doubting who I am, and of denying who I am in relation to You. Thank you for giving me an example, also through Peter, of the truth that my confusion, denials, and doubts don’t have to mean the end of my journey toward union with You. If I turn back to You when I realize I’ve turned away, I’m already moving toward you again. Thank you for forgiving me for denying you and my true self. Amen.

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Photo by Stacey Franco on Unsplash

This Lent, I’ve decided to pause reflecting on the weekly readings. Instead, I’m going to reflect on the Scriptural Stations of the Cross in a different way than I have before. (The readings and traditional prayers that go with these stations are here.) Beginning this Friday and continuing through Good Friday, I’ll follow Jesus along the way to the cross as it’s presented in the Gospels. If life and God didn’t have other plans, and if I’ve done the math the calendar right (and these are big ifs), I’ve calculated that I can share two reflections each week and arrive at the tomb with Jesus’s body during Holy Week. Still, may God’s will be done and not mine. Thank you for joining me on this journey.

First Station: Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane

(Matthew 26:36-41)

You reveal your heart to me, Lord, and yet I can’t comprehend the depth and weight of that heart. My soul wants to learn from you, to be Your companion and Your coworker, but my clouded mind and frail body aren’t equipped to satisfy holy desires. Thank you for the times that, despite my weaknesses You have made me and will make me able to cooperate with You anyway.

Thank You for surrendering to the will of our Father at this stage of Your journey. Place Your surrender in my soul, and help me to remember that when I dread a challenge or hardship, when I’d like to avoid something, You have felt what I’m feeling more than I’ve ever felt it because You’ve had to prepare to bear the weight of all the world. Thank you for understanding that neither I, nor any other disciple alone could bear that weight. Thank you for giving me an example of the power of preparing with prayer, of the power of waiting, and of making room for both silence and conversation. Thank you for showing that prayer means not only surrendering to the Divine Will but sharing Your deepest desires and most vulnerable moments with that Love and the people that Love has placed in my life. Thank you for placing Your creation in our care, and for placing us in the care of Your creation.

Second Station: Jesus, Betrayed by Judas, is Arrested

Photo by Francesco Alberti on Unsplash

(Mark 14: 43-46)

This experience reminds me to let my words and actions reflect the One whose image I am and You are. It reminds me to [l]et [my} ‘yes’ mean ‘yes’ and [my] ‘no’ mean ‘no’ — nothing more and nothing less (Mat. 5:37). Help me to love unselfishly and without possessiveness or covetousness. Help me to love in ways that respect spiritual freedom — my freedom and the freedom of others. Amen.

The Bible. The New American Bible Revised Edition, Kindle edition, Fairbrother, 2011.

Confraternity of Christian Doctrine, Inc. “Sunday July, 2 2023: Readings at Mass.” The New American Bible, 2001. Universalis for Windows, Version 2.179, Universalis Publishing Ltd., 26 Feb. 2023, https://universalis.com/n-app-windows.htm

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“. . .whoever is angry with his brother will be liable to judgment . . .”

Jesus— Matthew 5:22
Photo by Rohan Makhecha on Unsplash

The verse above and the reading from which it comes, Matthew 5:17-37, is one of those that I have visceral reactions to and not pleasant ones. Until I make myself focus on inhaling and exhaling a few times, I feel suffocated by darkness. I can’t see a sliver of light, and I feel nothing I can grab onto to move forward. I experience temporary despair when I revisit verses like the one I’ve highlighted, they awaken my anxiety and depression like the slightest unusual sound that can startle me out of a sound sleep at night.

I suppose such passages are meant to jar anyone who receives them out of complacency, and they do that. But I find it difficult to see what to do long-term after the jarring. I confess my anger, resentments, and wounds, and mentally, I surrender them to God again and again. Yet anger, resentment, envy, and self-service are such a part of my heart. They cut through every layer of my being. These emotions feel like thorny weeds embedded in a soul that’s filled with concrete. As time passes, uprooting them feels more and more impossible. I feel disappointed in myself for letting poison spread in my own heart and from there the world around me over and over despite repeated and sincere intentions to spread healing and light.

When I heard Matthew 5:17-37 again this weekend, I thought maybe this was one of the weeks I’d link to someone else’s reflection. I didn’t want to spread despair. After all, even though truths can be difficult to share and to receive, I have faith that despair is not truth. I asked God where I could find hope and the truth in the midst of the weeds in my heart and on the hamster wheel of my mind.

Two answers came to me:

  1. Imagine your emotions as electricity, and rather than thinking you need to make them go away, ask God to help you channel them toward creativity and the service of love, rather than simply unleashing them with the result being that they electrocute everyone and everything around you (by “you,” I mean me).
  2. Don’t give up on inviting the gardener of your heart to tend it. Maybe to be alive means not to give up.

It’s easier to imagine #1 coming to fruition for someone else, thanks to an individual being personally affected by a societal wound. Mothers Against Drunk Driving came to my mind. The Wikipedia article about the organization says MADD: “was founded on September 5, 1980, in California by Candace Lightner after her 13-year-old daughter, Cari, was killed by a drunk driver. There is at least one MADD office in every state of the United States and at least one in each province of Canada. These offices offer victim services and many resources involving alcohol safety. MADD has claimed that drunk driving has been reduced by half since its founding.”

The article goes on to say that “[a]ccording to MADD’s website, ‘The mission of Mothers Against Drunk Driving is to end drunk driving, help fight drugged driving, support the victims of these violent crimes and prevent underage drinking'” (qtd. in “Mothers Against Drunk Driving”).

But then there are the experiences that make people angry, that hurt them, that aren’t obviously catastrophic. There are the deep-seated wounds in ourselves, and by extension, in our relationships. I wonder if it’s true that the longer we’ve known someone, the more power they have to hurt us, and the more power we have to hurt the other person. The injuries from these connections may be older and deeper. They may have festered almost as long as we can remember. Elements of them are probably relatable to most people, and yet other aspects of them are unique to the people and situations involved. (Actually, even high-profile traumatic events probably share this quality of being a mixture of painful universality and uniqueness)

As I’ve wrestled with Matthew 5:22 the last few days, I’ve been reminded of the importance of naming emotions and then sitting with them, of saying to myself and to God, “Okay, I’ve just had an experience or an encounter that’s stirred some intense feelings. What are they? Anger, resentment, disappointment, sadness. In the past, I’ve tried to label them and then go on.

But earlier today, I found myself repeating, “I’m angry and hurt. I really wish things were different. I felt a lot more peace and relief when I vented to myself and to God about the feelings rather than hoping that I could simply name them and expect them to go away. Once I had allowed myself this time of confrontation and release, I felt for a good while that Jesus was with me in this pain and that I was a tiny bit grateful to share Jesus’ pain. I prayed that my accepting this pain would do some spiritual good I can’t understand yet. I really did feel like God had helped me harness at least some of the electricity, though the harnessing took a different form than the one that firs occurred to me when I asked for help.

I know that all too soon, I’ll forget to invite God into my struggles. Maybe the key as soon as I realize I’ve forgotten, is to extend the invitation again, to reopen the gate to the garden of my heart repeatedly. Thank You, Lord, for whispering gentleness to my mind when I forget You are there and for knocking on the gate of my heart. Amen.

Works cited

The Bible. The New American Bible Revised Edition, Kindle edition, Fairbrother, 2011.

“Mothers Against Drunk Driving.” Wikipedia: The Free Encyclopedia, Wikimedia Foundation Inc. 28 Nov. 2022, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mothers_Against_Drunk_Driving.

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Photo by charlesdeluvio on Unsplash

Jesus said to his disciples: “You are the salt of the earth. But if salt loses its taste, with what can it be seasoned? It is no longer good for anything but to be thrown out and trampled underfoot.

Matthew 5:13

I am the salt of the earth. Hearing this, I’m inclined to wonder if a little bit of me goes a long way. Am I overpowering if someone relies on me too much? Does too much of me contribute to high blood pressure? Undoubtedly, the answer to these questions is sometimes “yes.”

But I don’t think salt had these associations for people in Jesus’ time. Wikipedia’s entry, “Salt in the Bible,” says salt is used in the Scriptures “signify permanenceloyaltydurabilityfidelityusefulnessvalue, and purification . . . . Salt was widely and variably used as a symbol and sacred sign in ancient Israel Numbers 18:19 and 2 Chronicles 13:5 illustrate salt as a covenant of friendship. In cultures throughout the region, the eating of salt is a sign of friendship.” (Yes, I know Wikipedia is not a foolproof source of information, but I’d like to be able to make this post available to you sometime this week.)

Before embarking on this post, I was aware that humans have used to salt as a preservative for a long, long time, so it makes sense to me that, especially before the advent of refrigeration, salt would be associated with permanence, durability, usefulness, and value. The association with fidelity also makes sense in that food must be preserved to remain what it is.

The human body needs salt to function properly— just not as much as many of us put into our bodies. An article from Harvard’s T.H. Chan School of Public Health reports:

The human body requires a small amount of sodium to conduct nerve impulses, contract and relax muscles, and maintain the proper balance of water and minerals. It is estimated that we need about 500 mg of sodium daily for these vital functions. But too much sodium in the diet can lead to high blood pressure, heart disease, and stroke. It can also cause calcium losses, some of which may be pulled from bone. Most Americans consume at least 1.5 teaspoons of salt per day, or about 3400 mg of sodium, which contains far more than our bodies need.

“Salt and Sodium” — The Nutrition Source

An article from the Department of Health, State Government of Victoria, Australia adds:

Some people believe that salt needs be replaced during hot weather or strenuous exercise to avoid muscle cramps. This is not correct. What you need to replace is water.

The human body can happily survive on just one gram of salt a day, as hormones keep a check on sodium levels and make adjustments for hot weather. A genuine sodium shortage brought on by hot weather or exercise is extremely rare, even among hard-working athletes.

The muscle cramps that sometimes follow a bout of sweating are due to dehydration, not lack of salt. To prevent cramps, drink plenty of water on hot days and before, during and after exercise. This will also help to even out the water–sodium ratio in the body.

“Salt” — Better Health Channel

When salt is used judiciously, when one might say it’s treated like it has value rather than used carelessly, it brings out the best not only in our bodies but in our food. It enhances other flavors rather than overpowering them. Maybe the ability of salt to have a positive effect on other flavors is good to remember as we seek to have healthy relationships with the people around us. Our call and our challenge is not to take charge all the time but to journey with one other and to work on building communities that bring out and benefit from the best qualities of their members.

I’m sorry to say I don’t always bring out the best qualities in the people around me. Why? Because I’m not the pure salt. A footnote in my Bible says the following: “The unusual supposition of salt losing its flavor has led some to suppose that the saying refers to the salt of the Dead Sea that, because chemically impure, could lose its taste” (Mat. 5:13n).

The website Natural Pioneers has this to say about Dead Salt’s limited effectiveness for flavoring food: “Dead Sea Salts are made up of about 60% magnesium and potassium, 8% sodium and some rare minerals. . . .While a small percentage of extracted Dead Sea salts are washed and processed to edible salt, the majority is not” (Dead Sea Salts Vs. Sea Salt Are They The Same? [Studies]).

Lord, help me to come to You so that You can wash me. Refine me into the pure salt You created me to become. Grant me the grace to treat others as my valued brothers and sisters rather than carelessly. Help me to cooperate with those around me to flavor our surroundings with Your Love. In other words, grant me the grace to be salt for the world but not salty. Amen.

Works cited

The Bible. The New American Bible Revised Edition, Kindle edition, Fairbrother, 2011.

Natural Pioneers. “Dead Sea Salts Vs. Sea Salt | Are They The Same? (Studies).” 2023, https://naturalpioneers.com/dead-sea-salts-vs-sea-salt/.

“Salt.” Better Health Channel, Department of Health, State of Victoria, 23 June 2022, https://www.betterhealth.vic.gov.au/health/healthyliving/salt.

“Salt in the Bible.” Wikipedia: The Free Encyclopedia, Wikimedia Foundation Inc., 13 Oct. 2023, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Salt_in_the_Bible.

“Salt and Sodium.” The Nutrition Source, Harvard T.H. Chan School of Public Health, The President and Fellows of Harvard College, 2023, https://www.hsph.harvard.edu/nutritionsource/salt-and-sodium/.

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Photo by Florian Klauer on Unsplash

This Week’s Readings:

  • Isaiah 2:1–5
  • Psalm 122:1–2, 3–4, 4–5, 6–7, 8–9
  • Romans 13:11–14
  • Matthew 24:37–44

Also Cited

  • Isaiah 55: 8-9
  • Colossians 3:2

As a whole, the readings above offer a lot of hope. They tell me that people from every nation, regardless of their circumstances, are invited to enter God’s kingdom. They remind me that “[my] salvation is nearer now than when [I] first believed” (Rom 13:11, The New American Bible Revised Edition).

Yet even as these readings inspire me, I find them daunting. The first reading tells me that its promises won’t be fulfilled without me first fighting a battle that won’t just be an uphill one. It will be an “upmountain” one. Isaiah envisions the place where God dwells as being on the summit of a mountain because the Jewish people had a long history of meeting God on peaks. These settings seem fitting because Scripture reminds me that God’s ways are not my ways. They are high above [my] own (Isa. 55:8-9). In Paul’s letter to the Colossians, he reminds me to “think about what is above” (3:2).

However, if I take the concept of “climb[ing] the Lord’s mountain” out of the context of the rest of the passage, the words carry connotations of a meeting with God being the result of an achievement on my part (Isa. 2:3, The New American Bible, 2001) It isn’t. Isaiah calls me to make the trip “that [God] may instruct [me] in his ways and [I] may walk in his paths (Isa. 2:3). I have a lot left to learn and to do. The learning and doing will mean letting go in order to transcend “what is on earth” (Col. 3:2). It will mean letting go of the weights of selfishness and self-centeredness. It will mean recognizing that whatever is not God or does not share God’s character is temporary and may act like a weight that holds down the balloon of my soul and keep it from ascending to God. The heavier the weight, the harder it is to get out from under. I can’t just shrug it off. Only Someone above me can lift it, and that Someone is God. But God often doesn’t pry out of my hands what I have a white-knuckle grip on. Instead God waits for me to release to Him the burdens of selfishness that I clutch to myself, though His cross would lift them from me if I let it.

Still, it feels like another kind of burden to lay the burden of selfishness on the cross because it can be hard to recognize selfishness for what it is. It can feel like a weighted blanket I hide under. To come out from under this blanket is to be at my most vulnerable, to be naked, to stand out rather than be camouflaged by the temporary trappings of day-to-day life.

I won’t have forever to act as the Divine reflection on earth that I was born to be — that each of us is born to be. My time on earth may well end when I least expect it to end, on a day that previously seemed as uneventful as the one before it. May I recognize opportunities to act selflessly, to build community, and to make peace while I have these opportunities. This is the prayer that the New Testament reading I cite at the beginning of this post inspires me to offer. Amen.

The Bible. The New American Bible Revised Edition, Kindle edition, Fairbrother, 2011.

Confraternity of Christian Doctrine, Inc. “Sunday July, 2 2023: Readings at Mass.” The New American Bible, 2001. Universalis for Windows, Version 2.179, Universalis Publishing Ltd., 26 Feb. 2023, https://universalis.com/n-app-windows.htm

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Photo by Joeyy Lee on Unsplash

The one who serves God willingly is heard.

Sirach 35:16

Uh oh.

I almost never serve God entirely willingly. Starting to draft this post is a drag. The thought of going back to watching a baking competition is much more pleasant than the thought of having to come up with my own content. Yet I always enjoy having written here, and the thought that someone else might be encouraged by something I’ve written keeps me coming back.

Too often when I’m at church, my mind isn’t there with my body. My mind is either on a hamster wheel of anxiety or wandering in a daydream. I’m most inclined to pray alone, outside, and in my own words—the fewer the better.

Yet I recognize that while some moments of practicing faith can and should be solitary, faith isn’t living if it’s not a group activity as well as an individual one. Liturgies and formal prayers are part of that group activity. The more fully I engage in such group activities, with their ancient, traditional prayers, the more they have the power to put the movements of my heart, mind, and will into perspective and to unite them to the mind, heart, and will of Christ. To the extent that we all experience this transformation into communion, we’re united to each other. This communion spanning time and space and joining God and creation is what liturgy offers, Showing up for it each week is part of my commitment each week to wrestle with getting out of my own head.

Do I think God doesn’t hear my prayers because I struggle with being present in the moment and with choosing to participate in life? No. God doesn’t need me to pray. Prayer is for my benefit and for the benefit of all creation. The more space I have in my mind, my heart, and my will for this benefit, the better I’ll able to receive it and the more good it can do me and the world around me. This is what the verse from Sirach means to me.

But I’m far from being able to fully receive this benefit — and not just because my faith often isn’t as alive as it might appear. I don’t feel as courageous as friends seem to think I am. My default approach to life is not to rock the proverbial boat, not to bring disapproval on myself, and not to disrupt my routines — because disruption triggers anxiety. My default approach is to follow my inclinations. I don’t write this blog because my faith, hope, and love are mature. I write this blog because I want these virtues and others to mature in me.

I constantly fall into the trap of comparing myself to others. I either focus on how my life doesn’t measure up to theirs or how their lives fall short of the ideals I wish we both lived up to. This tendency toward comparison makes me sinful and unwise, and it steals my joy, the very joy God brought me into being to share. And for that reason, the prayer of the tax collector in Luke 18:13 is also my own: “O God, be merciful to me, a sinner.”

Confraternity of Christian Doctrine, Inc. “Sunday July, 2 2023: Readings at Mass.” The New American Bible, 2001. Universalis for Windows, Version 2.179, Universalis Publishing Ltd., 26 Feb. 2023, https://universalis.com/n-app-windows.htm

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Photo by Nathan Dumlao on Unsplash

The Old Testament and New Testament readings from this weekend offer reassurance for those times when we face helplessness, hostility, injustice, despair, and discouragement.

In Exodus 17:8-13, Moses, by himself, can’t send the army attacking his people into retreat. He can pray, but even that gets hard to do without stopping. That’s why God works through relationships, so others can support us when the balloons of our faith, which are inflated with persistence, deflate. In Exodus 17:12-13, support takes the form of Aaron and Hur holding up Moses’ arms whenever they grow fatigued from being extended in prayer.

The next time I’m the person whose balloon of faith is deflated, I’ll take comfort in Luke 18:1-8. It tells me that just making a habit of talking to God will open me to closer union with God, to doing God’s will, and to receiving God’s gifts. Even when the balloon of with my faith is no larger than a mustard seed, when my faith is more about being consistent than about growing in love, it has the power to shape me for the better, little by little, like a creek carving a canyon. Even when my faith is far from bottomless and my love far from unselfish, both virtues can sculpt me into my best self. They’ll grow in me — as long as I don’t give up on them.

Work cited

The Bible. The New American Bible Revised Edition, Kindle edition, Fairbrother, 2011.

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