But God

Just as a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear Him. For He Himself knows our frame; He is mindful that we are but dust. (Psalm 103:13-14)

 

Nancy and I recently moved from Washington State to Georgia. In doing so we left behind many friends, friends from our closely knit neighborhood and friends from our church with whom we regularly worshiped God together and studied His word – friends with whom we prayed together, laughed with each other, broke bread with each other.

Added to that loss was also the loss of the very rewarding relationships I so enjoyed on the job, relationships with my colleagues and relationships with my students. Further complicating the pressure cooker is also the burden of finding new employment, a new church, and a new community in which to live.

To be frank, this move has been an extraordinarily taxing time for Nancy and me – and the pressure has manifested itself in surprisingly ugly and angry outbursts against each other. I am ashamed to admit it, but perhaps my admission can help someone else cope better with his or her own stressors.

In recent years as I’ve studied the Scriptures, the Holy Spirit led me on several occasions to the phrase often used by St. Paul, “But God.” For example, Romans 5:8, But God demonstrated His love toward us in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. In other words, though I stood shaking my fist in God’s face, He sent His Son to die for me.

 

Another is Ephesians 2:4, But God, being rich in mercy, because of His great love with which He loved us, even when we were dead in our transgressions, made us alive together with Christ . . . .  In other words, when my heart, soul and mind were dead (the Greek word used here is the same from which we get ‘necrotic), God breathed life into me and I was born again through Christ Jesus.

Ah! How I love the promise and the power inherent in that phrase, But God.

So there I was this morning, reading the Scriptures and apologizing to Him again for my thoughtlessness toward Nancy, and He reminded me of an ancient hymn she and I sang from time to time when we worshiped in Protestant churches. It was written by St. Bernard of Clairvaux, Jesus, The Very Thought of Thee. Click here to listen to it. The lyrics reminded me of that very comforting phrase, But God.

Jesus, the very thought of Thee
With sweetness fills the breast;
But sweeter far Thy face to see,
And in Thy presence rest.

Nancy and I are burdened with what we are tempted to think is excessive stress, But God says: “Come to Me, you who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.  Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For My yoke is easy and My burden is light.” (Matthew 11:28-30)

Nor voice can sing, nor heart can frame,
Nor can the mem’ry find
A sweeter sound than Thy blest name,
O Savior of mankind!

We’re caught in a spiral of frustration, But God says:  “Peace I leave with you; My peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Do not let your heart be troubled, nor let it be fearful." (John 14:27)

O hope of every contrite heart,
O joy of all the meek,
To those who fall, how kind Thou art!
How good to those who seek!

We’re confused and feel like we’re walking blindly, But God says, “Trust Me. ‘I know the plans that I have for you, plans for welfare and not for calamity to give you a future and a hope. Then you will seek Me and find Me when you search for Me with all your heart.”’ (Jeremiah 29:11)

All those who find Thee find a bliss
Nor tongue nor pen can show;
The love of Jesus, what it is,
None but His loved ones know.

Our minds race from one “what-if?” to another, But God says “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice! Let your gentle spirit be known to all men. The Lord is near. Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all comprehension, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." (Philippians 4:4-7)

Jesus, our only joy be Thou,
As Thou our prize will be;
Jesus, be Thou our glory now,
And through eternity.

In these last few weeks I’ve wondered, “What’s wrong with me that I act as I do?”  But God says “If you confess your sins, God is faithful and righteous to forgive you your sins and to cleanse you from all unrighteousness. (See 1 John 1:9); and ‘Things which eye has not seen and ear has not heard, and which have not entered the heart of man, all that God has prepared for those who love Him.” (1 Corinthians 2:8-10)

When I look at myself in the mirror of God’s word, I cannot help but wonder why He loves me as He does. But oh! I am ever grateful for the “But Gods” in Scripture, and that He loves me so very much, despite my many, many failures.
 

Amen 

Eyes to See

I posted this about a year ago.
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Open my eyes, that I may behold wonderful things from Your law . . . Do not hide Your commandments from me . . . Your servant meditates on Your statutes. Your testimonies also are my delight; They are my counselors. (Psalm 119:18-24)


After all these years I still don't like wearing them. Never have. I always feel as if I am about to step wrong on the stairs or off the sidewalk. But because I can no longer read without them, reading glasses have become a necessary part of my attire. I always carry them with me – usually in my shirt pocket.

That's where they were, in my shirt pocket, while my wife and I enjoyed our meal at a local Italian restaurant. It wasn't until an hour later, when we were about to leave, that my eyes started burning from strain and I put the glasses on.

Then, for the first time that evening, I saw them: Water droplets on my iced tea glass, spots of tomato sauce beneath my plate, creases in the table cloth . . . . how did I sit at the table for nearly an hour and not notice them? Stains and wrinkles which had blurred into nondescript shadows suddenly  danced and shouted for attention. For a few moments I played with my glasses, shifting them on my nose, marveling at how different things look when you can really see.

And then I recognized a spiritual parallel.

How many spots and wrinkles within the fabric of our lives blur into unrecognizable shadows because we neglect to wear our spiritual glasses? When our Bibles lie closed on the bookshelf and we view our world and our life through the filters of friends and news broadcasts, sitcoms, movies and newspapers, is it any wonder that the crisp lines of God's "Thou Shalt Not" blur into "Maybe it's ok"?

The Lord Jesus is coming for a people without spot or wrinkle (Ephesians 5:27; 2 Peter 3:14), and He warned those who claim to have sight – but in reality are blind – to receive from Him salve to anoint their eyes that they may see (Rev 3: 17, 18).

If there ever was a time to see, it is now. If there ever was a time to acquire some salve, it is now. It is time we reopen His word and seek a clearer vision of His truth and not the culture’s.

Otherwise we risk being frightfully ashamed at His return because of our unrecognized stains and wrinkles -- unrecognized because we left our spiritual glasses in our pockets or closed on the bookshelf.

Soon. Very Soon

I wrote this many years ago. I still long for that day yet to come. I hope you also feel the same.
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For this we say to you by the word of the Lord, that we who are alive and remain until the coming of the Lord, will not precede those who have fallen asleep. For the Lord Himself will descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive and remain will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and so we shall always be with the Lord. (1 Thessalonians 4:15-18)

Their question came as predictably as the sunrise. It didn't matter where we drove. The park for a picnic, the zoo on the other side of the city, the grandparents on the other side of the country . . . before we had been very long on the road a mournful cry rose from their seats: "Are we there yet?"  Over and over our children asked it; Every few minutes (or so it seemed). I remember turning to look at them. "Soon," I assured them. "Very soon, and we'll be there."

I understood their excitement. Their lives rambled along with carefree simplicity. One day followed another, snug within the safety and love of our home. A broken dolly? No problem; daddy will fix it. Skinned your knee?  Let me kiss it better. 

When I took the time to see life through their eyes, I caught glimpses of a freshness and vitality left behind in my own childhood, an effervescence which somehow and at sometime receded behind my "maturity."  Not that there is anything wrong with maturity - I suppose. Except when it reduces childlike eagerness to a ho-hum yawn. 

But every so often I sense within me a curious excitement straining for rebirth. Perhaps it is because I now realize I cannot fix every broken dolly, or soothe every hurting knee that I catch myself asking Him, with increasing frequency, "Are we there, yet?"  Over and over. Every few minutes.

Or so it seems.

Yes. I know the fields are "white already to harvest." I understand why we must work while we can before the "the night cometh, when no man can work." These truths, and others, float around in my mind, compelling me to teach, to share, to exhort. But my heart . . . oh, sometimes my heart longs as a child for that Day when Daddy will fix it.

Are we there yet, Lord? How much longer will it be? How many more days or even months must we wait until creation itself ceases its groaning? How much longer until You welcome your children home?

And then sometimes . . .every so often . . . if I listen carefully enough I can almost hear Him say it: "Soon. Very soon, and we'll be there."

Oh, Lord Jesus! Come quickly.

What’s All this talk about Holiness?

 But the Lord is in His holy temple. Let all the earth be silent before Him. (Habakkuk 2:20)

So I’m reading today in Numbers chapter 25 the story of Israel’s on-again-off-again descent into idolatry and of one particular brazen Israelite’s rebellion against God. Take a few moments to read this section copied from the Revised Standard Version, Catholic Edition.

While Israel dwelt in Shittim the people began to play the harlot with the daughters of Moab. These invited the people to the sacrifices of their gods, and the people ate, and bowed down to their gods. So Israel yoked himself to Baal of Peor. And the anger of the Lord was kindled against Israel;  and the Lord said to Moses, “Take all the chiefs of the people, and hang them in the sun before the Lord, that the fierce anger of the Lord may turn away from Israel. . . .

And behold, one of the people of Israel came and brought a Midianite woman to his family, in the sight of Moses and in the sight of the whole congregation of the people of Israel, while they were weeping at the door of the tent of meeting.  When Phinehas the son of Eleazar, son of Aaron the priest, saw it, he rose and left the congregation, and took a spear in his hand and went after the man of Israel into the inner room, and pierced both of them, the man of Israel and the woman, through her body . . . .

 And the Lord said to Moses, “Phinehas the son of Eleazar, son of Aaron the priest, has turned back my wrath from the people of Israel, in that he was jealous with my jealousy among them, so that I did not consume the people of Israel in my jealousy. Therefore say, ‘Behold, I give to him my covenant of peace; and it shall be to him, and to his descendants after him, the covenant of a perpetual priesthood, because he was jealous for his God, and made atonement for the people of Israel.’”

I paused in my reading as my mind replayed this scenario. God repeatedly commanded Israel to be set apart entirely and exclusively for Him. And here they were once again, thumbing their collective noses in God’s face. One of them even had the temerity to bring a foreign woman into his bedroom in broad daylight.

Please do not misunderstand my point. I certainly would never advocate we take swords and do away with everyone in the Church who willfully, openly and flagrantly causes scandal. But is it not instructive that God was so pleased with Phinehas’ zeal for righteousness that He blessed the man with a perpetual covenant “because he was jealous for his God”?

With all I hear from pulpits about God’s love, and nary a word about His judgment against sin, it is little wonder to me that we have so few Church leaders zealous and jealous enough for God’s holiness that they would even refuse the Eucharist to Catholics who openly snub their nose at Church teaching regarding morals and faith. With all I hear about God’s mercy from pulpits, and virtually nothing about God’s unremitting requirement that we live according to His laws, I am no longer surprised when our Bishops and priests do not excommunicate the unrepentant and openly rebellious congregants for the scandals they cause.

But by cowering from standing for Christ in the face of a demonic and worldly political correctness, and refusing for whatever other reason to do the hard thing – the godly thing – as did St. Paul when he ordered the church at Corinth to remove from themselves the one causing scandal (see 1 Corinthians 5) – by refusing to do the hard thing, do not our cowering Church leaders encourage sinners to continue in their sin? Worse, since unchallenged scandal can encourage others to follow the easy road of sin, do not leaders who shrink from doing the right thing merely teach their sheep to walk the path that leads ultimately to judgment and eternal damnation?

St. James wrote: “Do you not know that friendship with the world is enmity with God? Therefore whoever wishes to be a friend of the world makes himself an enemy of God” (James 4:4).  St. Paul warned: “If I were still trying to please men, I would not be a bond-servant of Christ” (Galatians 1:10).

 

And so I pray, “Oh, God! Give us leaders with the boldness of a Phinehas, zealous for God, for holiness, and for truth – leaders not concerned with being friends with the world at the expense of being a friend of God.”

 

How to Read the Bible for all it's Worth

I posted this in a short series about a year or so ago. I thought it a good idea to revisit it.

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As the deer pants for the water brooks, so my soul pants for You, O God. My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. (Psalm 42:1)


In the last post I told of how the Holy Spirit used the Scriptures to give St. Augustine a new heart, a new life, a new destiny. We also saw how the Holy Spirit is trying to guide faithful Catholics into the same experience of St. Augustine – urging us through the Catechism of the Catholic Church to “pick up the Bible and read it.”

In this post I will suggest several aids to reading and understanding the Bible – aids I have used routinely since 1972 when I first committed my life to serving Jesus. You can also click this link to the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops for further (and sometimes, overlapping) information: http://www.nccbuscc.org/bible/understanding-the-bible/

1. Pray before you read. I never open my Bible without first asking the Holy Spirit to illuminate His word to my mind and my heart. My prayer goes something like this: “Holy Spirit, open my understanding to Your Word that I am about to read. Use it to reveal to me my sins, to guide me in my day to day decisions, to make me more obedient to Your will.” Often, when I read one of the prophets or the apostles, I will add (for example), “Isaiah, please pray for me now as I read the words the Holy Spirit gave to you to give to the Church. Pray also for me that the Holy Spirit will open the eyes of my heart and reveal Himself to me.”

2. Be consistent. Set aside a specific time each day for reading the Bible. Choose whatever works best for you. I prefer the morning before my day starts, and the evening before turning out the lights. Along with the time of day, set a specific period of time – ten or fifteen minutes. Whatever you feel comfortable doing. The point is, consistency. Day by day. If you miss a day, don’t stress over it, just pick up where you left off the next day.

3. Select a Bible that is easy to read.  Only Catholic Bibles include the several books missing from Protestant Bibles, such as Wisdom, Sirach and Maccabees. Be aware that the commentaries included in the margins of any Bible are not inspired by the Holy Spirit as are the actual texts of Scripture. Holy Scripture is never wrong, but commentators can be – and have been – wrong in their musings.

I like the Navaree Bible and commentaries, but they are pricey. The New American Bible (NAB) is okay, but I do not like its translation of some words from the Greek or Hebrew to English. Nor do I agree with some of their commentaries regarding the dates and authorship of various Bible books. In fact, I believe the NAB is closer to liberal Protestant scholarship than historical conservative Catholic scholarship in those areas. Here is a link to Bibles approved by the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops: http://www.nccbuscc.org/bible/approved-translations/

Along with a readable Bible, buy a good Bible dictionary and a good lexicon. Lexicons aid your understanding of the Greek, Hebrew and Aramaic words used in the Scriptures. For free online resources, visit http://www.usccb.org/bible/index.cfm, www.biblegateway.com and www.blueletterbible.org. I especially like the Blueletterbible site because of its easy access to lexical helps.

4. Don’t begin at the beginning. The Bible is not one book, but a collection of 73 books, written by dozens of authors over the course of nearly 2,000 years. While it is good to read the various books in their historical context (e.g. 1& amp; 2 Kings with Isaiah, Micah, Jeremiah, Baruch, Ezekiel, Daniel and others), I like to jump around within each Testament (Old and New). See this link for a reading plan I’ve recommended in the past: http://thecontemplativecatholicconvert.blogspot.com/2009/07/bible-reading-plan.html

If you are going to jump around, it will be important to annotate (usually in the Table of Contents) which books you’ve already read so you don’t re-read them before finishing the ones you’ve not yet gotten to. 

5. Skip tedious passages. As I mentioned in my Bible reading plan (see link to my blog above), there are a number of passages, even entire chapters, filled with lists, genealogies and other tedious verbiage that will significantly slow your reading – and probably bore you to sleep. For that reason, I strongly recommend skimming those sections of Scripture. Such tedious texts account for probably less than 5% of the Bible. Do not let that 5% dissuade you from mining the deep riches of the remaining 95%. This is not to say the Holy Spirit cannot teach us wonderful things from that 5%. He can and He has. But your first few times reading the Bible, I think it important to get the bigger picture.

6. Mark it up. Expect the Holy Spirit to answer your prayer about opening your understanding of the Scriptures. He will speak to you as you read. Perhaps not every time, but you will be amazed how often He does speak to us.

Underline texts He brings to your attention. Write your thoughts in the margins. When you come across something you don’t understand, put a question mark next to the text along with the date. I’ve many question marks in the margins of my Bible, along with the date(s) the Holy Spirit revealed to me the answers to my questions.

If St. Augustine had ignored the Holy Spirit’s voice through that of a child, “Pick it up and read it” he would have never become the man of God he was created to be. Likewise, if you and I ignore the Holy Spirit’s voice through the Church to “Pick it up and read it,” we will never become the man or woman of God we were created to be.

As the Psalmist said: Taste and see that the Lord is good (Psalm 34:8).

Don't Call Me Naomi

Do not call me Naomi; call me Mara (Ruth 1:20).

Tragedy. For some, it seems to always lurk in their shadow. Naomi's story is one of tragedy. It is also one of God in those shadows. I wrote this essay about her several years ago, but story is worth retelling.

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Naomi – her name means “pleasant” – and her husband left Israel during a famine that swept across the nation. They settled in Moab, their two sons married Moabite women, and the family worked hard to provide for their needs. But over the course of the next several years, Naomi’s husband died. Then her two sons died, and Naomi was left alone and devastated by her triple tragedy.

When she and Ruth – the wife of one of her deceased sons – arrived back in Israel, the people of her hometown greeted her with unmuted excitement. But Naomi, her grief still raw, quieted them and said, “Do not call me Naomi; call me Mara [which means, ‘bitterness’] for the Almighty has dealt very bitterly with me” (Ruth 1:19-21).

It’s not hard to empathize with Naomi’s despair. Life picked her up, threw her to the ground, and then kicked her in the gut as she lay in the dirt. And she did what so many of us are so often quick to do.

She blamed God for her tragedies.

Who doesn’t understand Naomi? Deep and gut-wrenching loss. Death. Debilitating injury. Chronic and life-altering illness. Financial disaster. It is a rare, rare person who gets through life unscathed by heartbreak. And it is little wonder that so many people – even those of us in the Church, children of God as we are, who’ve heard about faith and trust for years in homilies, who’ve read the books and sang the hymns extolling God’s love – it is little wonder that even those of us in the Church can find ourselves embittered about life.

And even about God.

Naomi didn't know it – in fact, she never discovered it – but through her tragedy, her daughter-in-law married a man named Boaz. Their son, Obed, had a son named Jesse. Jesse had seven sons, one of whom was named David.

David’s distant offspring was named, Jesus.

Naomi didn’t know – as many of us today don’t know, especially when we are in the throes of our bitterness – that God really does know what we go through. And He really is able to orchestrate events and people and circumstances in and through our lives to ultimately give birth to a wondrous beginning.

And – and this is important – God really is able to cause all things to work together for good, to those who love Him and are called according to His purposes (see Romans 8:28).

Life can be full of pleasantness, or full of bitterness. But circumstances themselves do not have the power to decide which of the two will rule us. Only our trust in the trustworthy God – or our lack of it – will determine what we call ourselves. Naomi . . .

Or Mara.

 

It "Is" a Big Deal

I wrote this 15 years ago. The point remains timeless.
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For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life.  (John 3:16)

From the moment our 15 year-old son walked into the house after a weekend missions trip to Mexico, he rambled about his experience with an enthusiasm I thought he reserved only for computer programming. His excitement continued through dinner as he painted vivid word-pictures of homes he and other church members built for two impoverished families, the children they met, the food they ate, the bugs they chased. Then, as we left the dinner table, he added, “Oh, by the way, I cut my leg two days ago.”  He pulled at his pants leg to give me a look. “What do you think?”

 

I’ve been a nurse a long time, but had never seen such a mass of angry, reddish-blue pustules like those covering his shin. It was hard to know where infection stopped and healthy skin began. A thin, yellow fluid seeped from an inch-wide blister and traced down into his sock. I bent closer and caught a faint whiff of foul odor.

 

“Put on your coat. We’re going to the emergency room.”

 

Shortly after we arrived, a physician examined Nathan’s leg. He prodded, poked and murmured an occasional, “that’s interesting” to no one in particular. Then he looked at us and announced the bad news. Nathan needed intravenous antibiotic therapy to prevent the infection from spreading to his bone or his blood. If it spread, he would require hospitalization. Nathan’s “by-the-way” nonchalance suddenly transformed to an “uh-oh” anxiety.

 

After the IV therapy, we drove home with a two-week supply of antibiotics and other medications to help his leg heal. The physician told me to keep him home from school for a few days.

 

When Nathan went to bed, I sat at my computer to unwind from the day’s events.  As I stared at the blank screen, I thought about the incident beginning from Nathan’s, “Oh, by the way.” I relived my gnawing fear as the doctor probed, prodded and attended to his infection. Under different circumstances, Nathan’s “Oh, by the way” could have ended in disaster.

 

It’s been many years since that evening, and I still wonder how Nathan could have been so casual about something so serious. Maybe it’s because he is so much like me -- and the rest of humankind. We often deny reality, hoping, for example, the chest pain is indigestion and not a heart attack, insisting the persistent lump in our throat will go away with time, or making believe weeping sores will get better by the morning.  But in an eerily similar way many of us also deny our spiritual wounds with a similar nonchalant: “It’s not that bad.”

 

When I share my faith in Christ with others, the common refrain, “I’m not that bad” makes me wonder if it’s subliminally scripted into our subconscious. What people most often mean is, “When I die, God will weigh my good deeds against my bad. I think I’ll do okay.”

Coming from the lips of men and women whose spiritual wounds sometimes defy description, I shake my head in bewilderment.  In the face of overwhelming spiritual injuries like drunkenness, drug abuse, sexual addictions and perversions, volatile tempers, arrogance and destructive pride . .  . .  why do we believe we need nothing more than a bandage?

Perhaps because we hear the message “God loves us” so often, the words lose their significance. But it’s His love that prompts His warning, “Get to the Emergency Room (Calvary).” And there, when the Great Physician prods, pokes and tells us, “You need a new heart; you need to be born again”  -- some still wonder, “What’s the big deal? It’s only a little sin.”

Nathan’s physical injury was a big deal. Skin infections such as his can invade the blood and become systemic infections overnight. Untreated, it could have killed him. And spiritual injuries are also a big deal. Untreated, they will spread through every nook and cranny of our lives and will eventually separate us forever from God.

Nathan didn’t have a choice the evening he showed me his leg and said, “Oh, by the way.” If he refused to come to the hospital I’d have dragged him there. But you and I have a choice about going to Calvary. God won’t drag us to the Cross. We can bring our wounds to the Great Physician or shrug our shoulders and, with “by the way” nonchalance, tell Him, “I’m okay.”

I'm here to tell you, “I’m okay" is a very bad choice. That’s why Scripture urges us, “ . . .  now is the time of God's favor, now is the day of salvation” (2 Corinthians 6:2).

Waiting overnight might be too late.

Bang, Bang. You're Dead

I wrote this more than 20 years ago. Its memory resurfaced a few days ago and I thought to update it and post it here.

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From the Catechism of the Catholic Church: The message of the Last Judgment calls men to conversion while God is still giving them "the acceptable time . . . the day of salvation." It inspires a holy fear of God . . . . (paragraph 1041)

Choose for yourselves today whom you will serve. (Joshua 24:15)

 

Exhaustion swept over me. It had been a long day at Disneyland with my young children, and I looked forward to plopping into bed at our motel room down the street. As we stood on the corner waiting for the light to change, a red convertible raced passed us and someone on the passenger side shot at me from a high-pressure water rifle. I looked up in time to hear my assailant shout, "Bang, Bang. You’re dead."

It happened so quickly I never had time to think about ducking for cover and protecting my kids. For a moment I stood motionless and incredulous. Did that really happen? Did he really shoot me? I looked at my shirt. Yes, he did. I'm soaked.

Several emotions suddenly swelled within me. None were very kind. I clenched my fists and glared at the tail lights disappearing into the collage of vehicles now at the other end of the block. I considered giving chase, but realized I'd never outrun them, and besides, I didn't know what I would have done if I caught up with the guy – or what he might have further done to me if I had.  So I stood there, fuming and frustrated - until the full weight of what could have happened settled over me. When it did, anger gave way to fear. My shirt could be saturated with my blood instead of water. I rubbed my hand across my chest. I could be lying dead on the pavement.

And then, inexplicably, as I stood there on the corner, the oddest sense of peace settled over me. No, “peace” does not faithfully describe the emotion that flooded into my mind. Comfort is a better word. Or maybe assurance.

Let me explain.

Many years ago I made a disturbing discovery about myself. Through a series of unhappy events I came face to face with the truth that my life was a cacophony of excuses and lies, of tragic rebellion, selfishness, and arrogance. I cringed at who I really was and how many people I had hurt.

However, at the same time I made another discovery. Despite my sin, God loved me. Despite my willful defiance, God offered me forgiveness. Despite my rebellion He offered me a new relationship - as of a son with a Father. All I had to do was take the first step and repent – apologize to Him for my many sin – ask Him to forgive me, and invite Jesus Christ to be Lord of my life. I could hardly believe it all could be true.

But it was.

In December 1972 I took that step, and God opened for me the floodgates of His love. I knew instinctively and intuitively He’d forgiven me for every terrible thing I’d ever done. In that single moment He wiped the slate of my past absolutely clean, adopted me into His great Family and made me His child. He promised I would never be alone in my heartaches because He would be with me wherever I am and through whatever I must endure. But perhaps best of all, He gave me His unalterable oath that when my life on earth is over, I will live with Him in His eternal kingdom.

Had that water been lead, I would have awakened in a place where there is no more death, no more tears, no more heartache, no more fear, no more separation, no more loss.

It’s been said, "Life is fragile, handle with prayer." God used a street corner “wet-down” to sharpen my focus. A drive-by shooting, an accidental fall . . . death can strike in an instant. I am grateful to Him that I do not have to worry about making last-moment decisions about eternity.
                                                                      

Deadly Pinholes

Put on the full armor of God, so that you will be able to stand firm against the schemes of the devil. (Ephesians 6:11).

August 19, 1990. The United Nations Coalition forces, led by the United States, were still a few months from enforcing the U. N. Resolutions against Iraq.

Dressed in camouflage green, I stood with nearly fifty other Navy and Marine Corps personnel in front of the warehouse at Camp Pendleton in California. We received our "sea-bag" gear the day before: helmet, sleeping bag, poncho, canteens and various other pieces of equipment necessary to conduct daily living in the middle of the desert. Today we would receive our chemical‑warfare protective gear: charcoal impregnated overgarments and gas mask with attached butyl rubber hood.

Chemical weapons, which include mustard, nerve and choking agents, can create large numbers of casualties for very low cost. Of the known chemical weapons in Iraq's arsenal, nerve agents caused the greatest concern because a droplet the size of a pinhead is sufficient to kill an unprotected person.

"Check your gear carefully," the supply sergeant said as he handed each of us our gas mask and green garment bag. "Make sure the garment bag is intact, and that your hood is free from holes."

Holes? I threw a suspicious glance at the sergeant and looked at my bag, turning it upside down and around in my hands. It looked intact. Next I examined my mask and hood. Everything looked okay.

Then I noticed the sergeant hold someone's rubber hood up to the sun, inspecting it from the underside. When he shook his head and tossed it into an already half‑full 50 gallon drum beside him, I looked back at my own hood, giving it much closer scrutiny. What at first appeared to be an intact hood, when held up to the light for closer examination, revealed scores of tiny holes no larger than – pinheads.

I used to wonder if there was a close parallel between preparing for military battle and preparing for spiritual battle. I no longer wonder about it. I know it to be true.

Among the items comprising the Christian's armor (see Ephesians 6), the Bible is central. It is the bedrock foundation of our defensive and offensive posture as we battle the subtle treacheries of Satan.

That is why St. Jerome said: Ignorance of Scripture is ignorance of Christ.  It is why the Catechism of the Catholic Church teaches the faithful Catholic: "God is the author of Sacred Scripture because he inspired its human authors; he acts in them and by means of them. He thus gives assurance that their writings teach without error his saving truth." (Catechism paragraph 136). And it is why “The Church has always venerated the divine Scriptures as she venerated the Body of the Lord” (Catechism paragraph 141)

But any warfare is not without its deceptive stratagems, and Satan is master at the game. Knowing how critical God's word is for the Christian, our deadly enemy diligently works to diminish its authority. One of his tactics is to introduce droplets of his toxins - not obvious vipers, but pinhead size worms - which for many believers render the Scripture, by degrees, impotent in their lives. You may have read some of these toxins in magazines and books, or heard them promulgated in movies, the workplace – or even in some churches. For example:                             

- The Bible is a compilation of moral stories, but cannot be trusted to represent the inerrant word of God.

- Because the stories were written by men and copied time after time through the centuries, significant errors are sure to have occurred in transmission.

- There are no absolutes upon which we may anchor our actions. Everything is relative.

- The Bible addresses the problems facing today’s people with archaic and uselessly outdated methods.

- What was considered sin in Bible days was rooted in the ignorance of a nomadic and intolerant people. Twenty-first century humanity is far more knowledgeable and tolerant about what should be considered wrong.

Had we been attacked with nerve agents, my defective chemical suit would have proven fatal for me. In the same way, I dare not engage in spiritual battle without ensuring my spiritual armor is intact. It is not the large gaping defects in doctrine which are the most dangerous. They can be easily spotted and dealt with. Rather, it is the small defects, the easily overlooked pinholes in the armor, which allow the seeds of death to take root.

As the history of the Church warns us, the strength and integrity of the Christian's spiritual armor is rooted uncompromisingly in God's word. That is why it is so critical, in the spiritual battles we face each day, to examine every philosophy, every thought, every idea under the light of Scripture – and for Catholics, how the Church interprets the Scripture. There is too much at stake to be sloppy or casual about our spiritual gear. Pinholes can develop too quickly.

And kill too easily. 

 

 

 

 

Homage to My Daddy in Heaven

Because you are sons, God has sent forth the Spirit of His Son into our hearts, crying, “Abba! [Aramaic word for Daddy] Father! (Galatians 4:6)

Sing to God, sing praises to His name; Lift up a song for Him  . . . whose name is the Lord, and exult before Him. A father of the fatherless and a judge for the widows is God in His holy habitation. God makes a home for the lonely . . . .  (Psalm 68:4-6)

 

I call Him Lord so often I sometimes forget He’s my heavenly Daddy. I’m sorry when that happens. ‘Lord’ conjures for me a more distant relationship than the intimate bond ‘Daddy’ invokes.

In prayer last week, that intimacy stirred thoughts once again of my earthly father. Those who’ve followed my blogs for a while know Albert left me and my sister in 1954.  I was four, Andrea was not yet two. He wouldn’t keep out of other women’s beds, so Mom finally told him to pack his valise.

Andrea and I rarely saw him afterward. Three, maybe four times over the next decade and a half. Then, in 1968, when I was eighteen, I asked Mom to set a meeting with him at my paternal grandparents’ apartment. I wanted to know his side of the story. I wanted to know why he left me and Andrea.

My mind’s eye still sees him as he sat in the wing-backed chair in front of the living room window. I sat cross-legged on the carpet a few feet from him. Andrea and Mom sat on the sofa to my left, my grandmother on the flowered upholstered chair to the right of the couch. My grandfather softly drummed his fingers on the dining room table to my right.

“Why did you leave?”

Albert hardly hesitated. He looked me in the eyes and said, “Because I wanted to.”

That was 45 years ago. His words remain as chilling as if he spoke them last month.

I don’t know why that memory recently resurfaced while I was in prayer. I forgave Albert in November 2011 for what he’d done to me. The Lord had interrupted my prayer time and asked if I would forgive Albert. His question caught me by surprise, and I wasn’t quite sure how to respond. Would I forgive Al for casting me aside like a piece of trash? More to the point, could I forgive him?

“I’d like to,” I finally answered.

What happened next still warms me to think of it. The memory of Albert saying what he did remained – and yet remains – chiseled in my mind, but the memory then took a sudden and extraordinary turn. I was no longer sitting on the carpet. Instead, my heavenly Daddy was sitting on the carpet and I was sitting in His lap. His arms encircled me and I snuggled deep into His embrace. His warmth surrounded me. I could hear His heart beat, feel His breath on my hair. A great sense of quiet washed over me. I knew I was at home, at home in His arms.

Home. Oh, the security, serenity, the love and hope that word arouses within me.

Albert’s words, “Because I wanted to” no longer stung as they had in 1968 because now, in 2011, I could snuggle deeper into Daddy’s embrace. Albert’s cruelty dissipated like a mist burned away by the sun as my Daddy held me yet closer – because He understood how those words ripped a hole in me. I remember as I write this how – as this scene unfolded in my memory – I broke into a grin, looked him in the eyes and said without hesitation: “I forgive you.” 

Why shouldn’t I forgive the man? How could I not forgive the man? I was sitting in my real Daddy’s lap. Albert was never my father. He only impregnated my mother. He was no more my father than if he had raped her and she conceived. But my Daddy in heaven – oh, my Daddy has never left me, no matter how many reasons I gave Him in my life to do so. And even when I didn’t know it He was there, all the time, His arm around my shoulder, whispering encouragement to a young boy, who became a teenager, and then became a young man who would one day become the man at 63 who joyfully lifts his hands in worship of his Daddy in heaven.

Sitting in my heavenly Father’s arms, how could Albert’s cavalier rejection hurt me? I could feel only sympathy for the man who missed a lifetime of opportunities to be my earthly daddy.

Is it any wonder why I am so in love with my Daddy who art in heaven?

Stressful Times of Prayer

The tongue is a fire (James 3:6)

 

Sometimes prayer is a stressful time for me. Even distressful. Like this morning when the Holy Spirit reminded me of how easily angered I can become. Like yesterday. About how easily I permit harsh words, hurtful words, to sometimes flow from my mouth.

 

I really do not like what I do at times. I really do not like who I am at times.

The Holy Spirit was not yet finished. He then reminded me of a verse in Proverbs I’d memorized a long time ago: He who is slow to anger is better than the mighty, and he who rules his spirit, than he who captures a city (16:32).

 

Then He brought into my thoughts a portion of the ‘Universal Prayer’ attributed to Pope Clement XI: Help me to conquer anger with gentleness, greed by generosity, apathy by fervor. Help me forget myself and reach out toward others.

 

And finally, as if to punctuate His point, I opened my Facebook page shortly after my time with the Lord, and followed a posted link to this YouTube video. Its title is, Change Your Words, Change Your World. It is well worth the short minute or two to watch. Here is the link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8n4DyFh9iWA 

Sometimes prayer is a stressful time for me. Even distressful. But without those times of self-rediscovery I would not have reason to bring to Christ my sins, seek His forgiveness, cleansing, and purging – all designed to change me more into His image.

 

The Fruit of Impatience

And now, O Lord, for what do I wait? My hope is in you. (Psalm 39:7)

Aaron should have known better. Only 40 days earlier he, with his two of his sons and 70 elders of Israel, climbed Mt. Sinai with Moses. There they witnessed the terrifying and awe-inspiring glory of God as He overshadowed the mountain (Exodus 24:9-17). And more: they all sat and ate dinner with the King of Glory.

Six weeks later God called Moses up the mountainside to receive the Ten Commandments. As Moses turned to enter the cloud he told Aaron and the elders, ‘I will return. Wait for me’ (Exodus 24:1-18).  But after a little more than a month, as Moses delayed his return, the people grew impatient. So they said to Aaron – the one whom God had chosen as High Priest – “Make us a god who will go before us. As for this Moses, we don’t know what happened to him” (Exodus 32:1).

And for some inexplicable reason, Aaron – who had only 40 days earlier eaten with God and beheld His inexhaustible grandeur – Aaron acquiesced to the people and formed a golden calf to serve as their ‘god.’ (32:1-6).

You can’t make this stuff up.

You and I now sit on the other side of that Biblical history, and I wonder how much things have changed. Two thousand years ago the Lord Jesus promised us, “I will come again” (John 14:1-3).  But like Aaron, the elders and the people in the Exodus account, have we grown impatient waiting for the Lord to fulfill His promise – even (and perhaps especially) those of us who eat His flesh and blood at each Mass? How many of us actually wonder if Jesus really intends to return for us? And how many live unaware of their participation in St. Peter’s prophecy – and by their ignorance fulfill that prophecy: “[I]n the last days mockers will come with their mocking, following after their own lusts,  and saying, “Where is the promise of His coming? For ever since the fathers fell asleep, all continues just as it was from the beginning of creation” (2 Peter 3:3-4)?

Impatience.

The Apostle continued: “The Lord is not slow about His promise, as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing for any to perish but for all to come to repentance.” And then he added: “But the day of the Lord will come like a thief, in which the heavens will pass away with a roar and the elements will be destroyed with intense heat, and the earth and its works will be burned up. Since all these things are to be destroyed in this way, what sort of people ought you to be in holy conduct and godliness . . .?” (2 Peter 3:9-11)

Indeed, what sort of people ought we to be?

“I will come for you,” our Lord Jesus promised. And I suspect He expects us to believe it – and to act accordingly. But throughout Church history, even to this day, impatience has taken its toll. Like Aaron, the elders, and the rest of the people, many Christian leaders and laity alike seem to have forgotten the Lord’s warning directed toward His disciples: “[I]f that evil slave says in his heart, ‘My master is not coming for a long time,’ and begins to beat his fellow slaves and eat and drink with drunkards, the master of that slave will come on a day when he does not expect and at an hour which he does not know, and will cut him in pieces and assign him a place with the hypocrites; in that place there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.” (Matthew 24:48-51). 

Truly, what sort of people ought we to be to whom the Lord has said, “I will return. Wait for me”? How should we live our lives to please Him who – with the warning – also told His disciples to continue His work until He returns (Luke 19:13)? Joshua’s exhortation to Israel after they entered the Promised Land is relevant to that question. He said, “. . . Choose this day whom you will serve . . . but as for me and my household, we will serve the Lord”(Joshua 24:15).

Oh, Holy Spirit, help us to not grow impatient, and in our impatience lose our love and impassioned devotion for God.  Help us choose today – to choose now – to choose wisely. Amen.

Why is it so Hard to say it?

 The Lord is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in lovingkindness (Psalm 103:8).

 As soon as I hung up the phone, I felt uneasy about our conversation. Brian asked me to include some of his furniture in my household shipment when I transferred back to California. At first, I didn’t think anything of it. We were both U. S. citizens working overseas for the government. He and his wife had several pieces of furniture they wanted shipped to their daughter who also lived in California. Because his contract did not permit him to ship very much weight when they eventually returned to the States, he asked if I would include his items in my shipment. Their daughter would pick up the furniture when I arrived at my new home.

Brian and I spent a lot of time together fishing on the lake and smacking balls around racquetball courts. We talked for hours about politics, sports and computers. We attended the same church. I couldn’t imagine he would ask me to do something illegal. However, I couldn’t shake the feeling something was not quite right.

The following Sunday I stopped him in the hallway at church and told him I needed to check with the shipping office to see if it was okay to combine his furniture with mine.

Brian took a deep breath. “Don’t bother,” he said. “It’s illegal.”

I looked at him, not sure if I heard correctly. When I recovered, I said, “You mean you knew it was wrong?

He nodded.

In the corner of my eye I spotted my wife motioning to me from the sanctuary. The worship service had begun. Brian and I walked into the church, but my heart stuck in my throat. Over the next several days I replayed our conversation, alternating between anger and disappointment. I couldn’t understand why my friend was willing to put me in such jeopardy. I could have lost my career. Been fined. Even gone to prison.

Thursday, I called him.

“Brian, I think you owe me an apology.”

“For what?”

“For what?” I echoed, more hurt than incredulous. “You could have gotten me in lots of hot water . . . and you knew it was wrong.”

Even as I spoke, I valued his friendship and did not want his sin to come between us. Besides, had I not also in the past done stupid – yes, rebellious – things for which I was ashamed? I would not hold myself aloof as if I was somehow holier than he. I wanted to forgive him. All Brian had to do was admit he was wrong and ask my forgiveness.

Instead, he justified his sin. “The government,” he argued, “owes it to me.”

 

That I could have gone to prison for fraud, that he could have ruined my reputation, meant nothing to him.

We lost contact after my wife and I moved back to the States. To this day, decades later, I sorrow for our loss. And yet, as I think about Brian and me, I also see a similar story unfold – not between two men, but between Mankind and God.

Surely, we have all offended God far more than my friend ever offended me. But how many of us would rather justify our sins than admit to Him we are wrong? How many of us would rather blame society, our parents, our environment, our genes – than simply say, “I am guilty”?

I have to wonder if God is more saddened than angered by our stiff necks. I wonder if He is more grieved than offended by our defiance. I wonder if He is more disappointed than provoked by our unwillingness to say, “I’m sorry.”

What is so hard about saying it? Why is it so hard to tell Him, "Lord, I am sorry. Forgive me. Cleanse me with the blood of Jesus and help me live my life now for You"?