Finding Jesus

Finding Jesus

How is it that you sought me? Did you not know I must be in my Father’s house?

Recently, I’ve been getting a lot of comfort from the fifth joyful mystery of the rosary: the finding of the child Jesus in the temple. Mary and Joseph anxiously search for Jesus after He stays behind in Jerusalem following the Passover feast. When He is finally found, listening and talking with the teachers in the temple, He seems to have expected them to know where He would be, instead of traipsing across Jerusalem looking everywhere. But they didn’t just know He would be in the temple and they seem even to struggle with His response.

Why is this comforting to me?

Mary was conceived without Original Sin, she bore the God-man in her womb following a conversation with an angel, and she humbly bears the honor being Queen of Heaven and earth. Yet she did not know that Jesus would be in the temple.

Joseph was a man who was clearly directed in his dreams, nobly labored to provide a life for Mary and Jesus, and lived a life governed by faith, justice, and wisdom. Yet he did not know that Jesus would be in the temple.

Those closest to Christ during His earthly life, those who raised Him from a small baby, those who were perfect or nearly so did not understand what Jesus was doing in this moment. The same would be true for many other moments in their lives, too.

And I find this to be extremely comforting.

When I cannot see what God is planning for my future…
When I do not understand how any greater good could be brought from this present pain…
When I do not find much reason to hope…
When the sadness of the present blinds me from seeing the joy that is certainly to come…
When I seek but do not find, ask but don’t receive an answer, knock but do not find an open door…
When I wonder but seem to get no closer to understanding…
When I cannot find Jesus in the present moment although I know He must be close…

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The Risk of Hope

The Risk of Hope

Hope is a risk.

When encountering difficulties, it is a good practice to turn to the Lord in prayer. And while there are many true sayings like “God is faithful” and “trust in God” and “God provides” and on and on, there is never a guarantee that God will act in the way that I want Him to act. It is true that God is all good and that He uses all things for good. It is also true that God has a more beautiful plan for our lives than we do. He is faithful, He is just, He loves us beyond measure.

And yet.

Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego were still thrown into the fiery furnace.
Daniel was put in the lion’s den.
The Israelites wandered in the desert for forty years.
John the Baptist was beheaded for proclaiming uncomfortable truths.
Jesus was crucified.
Rome was converted by the blood of martyrs.
St. Joan of Arc was burned at the stake after a sham trial which declared her a heretic.
St. Jeanne Jugan was sidelined and isolated in the very religious community she started.
Bl. Franz Jägerstätter refused to fight for the Nazis and was imprisoned before being executed.
St. Carlo Acutis died as a teenager after a battle with leukemia.

It seems important to remember that in all of these situations, God provided.

For the first four men, there was a miracle which prevented them from dying in the manner their persecutors planned. But for so many throughout the ages, God’s method of bringing about the greatest good can only be seen in glimpses, darting around the edges of our comprehension as we risk being overrun by the sorrow and pain which is so easy to perceive. There are many things which will only properly be understood from the perspective of eternity, from the view which God has as He weaves lives together and pulls beauty from sorrow.

However, it can be too easy to just quit praying, declaring that it doesn’t matter if we pray because God does whatever He is going to do. We can simply be resigned, trying not to care too much either way, denying that we have feelings and instead insisting that all is as it should be.

Hope, in many ways, is the riskiest option. The challenging task of seeking the fulfillment we desire in the moment while remaining focused on the eternal. There are so many hopes I have in my life, so many desires I want the Lord to fulfill. And I often have very particular ways I would like the Lord to fulfill these longings. The question isn’t if God loves me or will provide or if He is good or if He should be trusted. All of those things are true. But it seems to be the task of a lifetime to entrust our desires to the Lord, knowing He may choose to work in a different way, and yet have hope that, come what may, all will be truly, eternally good.

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His Yoke is Easy and His Burden Light

His Yoke is Easy and His Burden Light

Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.
(Matthew 11: 28-30)

His yoke is easy and His burden is light.

Over the past few weeks, I have wondered, “Is it really easy and light? It doesn’t feel that way.” I’m not certain it generally helps to consider that Christ suffered far more than I do. It isn’t a comparison game I want to play. Instead, various circumstances in life arise which can make us wonder how Jesus can say that what we are receiving in life is easy and light. The stress might not amount to the crucifixion, but it can still feel paralyzing. The pain might not compare to the scourging, but it can still feel crippling.

And yet Jesus always speaks what is true: His yoke is easy, His burden light.

Not that long ago, in a Bible study in prison, we were talking about this passage from Matthew’s Gospel. As different questions were asked, we spent a little time talking about a yoke and how it would look to be “yoked” to Jesus. The image that came to mind is one that stuck with me in the days that followed. I had mentioned that we step into the yoke/harness shared with Jesus and that He never abandons it, even if we run from the yoke. And I kept coming back to that image of Jesus faithfully shouldering the burden, while I so often long for escape and to slip out of the offered yoke.

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Is Time an Enemy?

Is Time an Enemy?

Is time an enemy?

Sometimes it feels like it is.

For the kid waiting for an upcoming vacation, the high school senior waiting for graduation, the pregnant mother waiting for her child’s birth, the friend with an advanced cancer diagnosis, the employee with an insane to-do list, and the family waiting for a loved one’s return. For these and so many others, time can feel so problematic, so insurmountable, so despicable.

Weeks ago, in conversation with a friend, I semi-flippantly said, “Time is the enemy,” and then immediately regretted the claim. In one way, it felt true. I wanted more time for a conversation and yet there was no more time to be had. Yet, in another sense, I knew that it was definitively not true that time was the enemy. In fact, one of most striking parts of the Easter Vigil this year was near the beginning with the Easter candle as it was proclaimed, “Christ yesterday and today, the Beginning and the End, the Alpha and the Omega, All time belongs to him and all the ages…” How can time be the enemy if it all belongs to the Lord?

I haven’t mastered this yet, but I have recently been trying to view time as a gift rather than a thief or an enemy. Only from the perspective of eternity will we be able to see all of the ways that the waiting and seeming delays were a gift. We will be able to see how good and kind God was when He said “No” to a particular prayer or desire we had, even when we prayed so fervently and clung so fiercely to hope.

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I Am Them

I Am Them

A worksheet that I had found scattered bits of time to review, improve, and print was received with unsurprising lackluster by my students. Class after class, student after student, groan after groan was emitted as I slid the packet onto their desks. Sometimes, I would joke with them and say, “I’ll take that as a ‘thank you’.” Other times, I would internally roll my eyes at them and, also internally, admonish their lack of gratitude. Or, at least, their incredibly verbal ingratitude.

“But it is almost the end of the school year!” they said mournfully, as they acted like the worksheet was twelve pounds of weight.

“Yes,” I replied, “but ‘almost’ is the key word there. School involves school work. What did you expect?”

Their response grated on me after a few classes, even though I wasn’t entirely surprised by it. Yet as I was passing out papers to yet another class, I had an insight, a bit of a revelation. A type of realization that is always a little unnerving after the internal frustration I’ve expressed towards my students.

I am them.

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The Lord is Not Slow

The Lord is Not Slow

Propped up on my desk, challenging me to deny the truth of it, is a square of cardstock with the quote, “The Lord is not slow about his promise.” (2 Peter 3:9) And in between lectures and classes, I go back to my desk, sit down, and re-read the quote, wondering what it means or how it can be true. Just the other day, I was perusing Instagram and came across a post with a quote from C.S. Lewis saying, “I am sure that God keeps no one waiting unless He sees that it is good for him to wait.” And, on a more secular note, today I watched a recent clip from a late night show interview where a comedian spoke of the years of waiting to make it big and yet recognizing that if he had become successful earlier, he would have been less prepared to handle the current pressure.

Waiting.

Probably every other post I write deals in some way with the reality of waiting. When encountering the waiting others experience, I think I’m pretty quick to offer some “wise words” or to console them that the waiting is not in vain. Yet it is hard to carry these words in my heart and in my life, to choose to be patient and docile when it feels like the waiting is fruitless.

Recently, I assisted with prayer teams at an event and I found myself saying things like, “Don’t be too rushed to figure out your vocation, God will reveal it in time” and “God won’t forget about you–you aren’t falling behind” and “The Lord has a great plan for you and He won’t forget about you.” These are all things I believe to be true and yet part of the way through the evening, I found myself questioning how I could be so certain about it for others while being so doubtful for myself.

If I believe God has a great plan for this person I barely know, why is it so hard to believe that He has a great plan for me? If I believe God won’t abandon or forget about this person before me, why do I have the nagging concern that He might forget about me?

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The Wrestling is the Hope

The Wrestling is the Hope

When faced with the misery of another human, how do we respond?

Not long ago, I found myself in a group of people in prison reflecting on questions of mercy and compassion. What has been our experience when showing mercy? What has been our experience when being shown mercy? In the midst of this, a man started to share about a hypothetical or vague situation and it became increasingly clear that he was sharing his own story with us.

He said that he couldn’t believe that God would forgive some people for the terrible, awful things they had done to other people. It wouldn’t be enough to just say sorry; forgiveness from God would be too easy, too incomprehensible. Though numerous pastors, priests, friends, and volunteers had told him otherwise, he could not fathom forgiveness being offered to himself. It was clear he was repulsed by himself and that he had likely tortured himself by replaying his crimes over and over in his mind thousands of times.

What do you do when you hate yourself so much yet you cannot avoid yourself? While you can run away from everyone else and hide in shame, you cannot outrun yourself. You cannot avoid being with your own tell-tale heart which longs for forgiveness yet cannot imagine ever being reconciled–with God, yourself, or humanity.

Some of his friends jumped in to offer consolation or to compare their wildly different situations as though they were similar. He sadly rebuffed the attempts, clearly seeing the differences and being unwilling to yield any compassion towards himself. Numerous thoughts raced through my mind and I tried to consider what I could say in the face of such despair. At one point, weeping, he questioned why God wouldn’t let him feel forgiven if he actually was and he bemoaned having no hope for himself.

“Perhaps the wrestling is the hope,” I said.

I explained that while he wants to give up, it doesn’t seem like he can. Maybe it is his undying longing for reconciliation and for redemption which is his hope. He wants to despair and yet he cannot fully commit himself to giving up entirely. Perhaps this is the hope the Lord is offering.

“I don’t know why the Lord doesn’t offer more grace in different moments. But I know He always offers enough.”

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Whatever God Sends

Whatever God Sends

In approaching Lent, I am always trying to find the perfect balance. I’ve learned that having a million random things I’m giving up doesn’t seem to be beneficial and it can be difficult to remember. Yet I’ve also had Lents where I did too little and I find myself disappointed in what miniscule things I chose to sacrifice. However, the Lord can use anything we give Him and I have noticed that my failures are often fertile ground for the Lord to help me remember that this a season about Him, not me.

Shortly before Lent started, I began reading When God is Silent: Finding spiritual peace amid the storms of life by Archbishop Luis M. Martinez. As the title suggests, the book offers wisdom for the periods in life when God doesn’t seem to be close and His love doesn’t seem to be a tangible presence in one’s life. There are many beautiful parts of the book, but one section in particular stood out.

What does the journey matter, provided one reaches sanctity? The main thing is to reach it. What does it matter whether we go to God through sickness or through health, through struggle or repose, through consolation or aridity? If we ourselves set about selecting the way, in all probability we would choose sweetness and ease–and the wrong route–whereas our Lord chooses for us what we need at any given moment. The worst thing that could happen to us would be to be given freedom of choice in selecting our own path to Heaven, for our selection would be unwise; we would choose desolation when in need of consolation, and consolation when desolation would be more suitable; we would choose struggle when rest would be in order, and rest when effort would be necessary. We would never make the right selection, because we are too shortsighted to know ourselves, the designs of God, or the paths to perfection….A keen realization of this truth should convince us that the best thing for us at each step is what God sends. Frequently, it is not to our taste, but what does it matter, provided we are sanctified? What means are at hand today for my sanctification? Whatever God sends me–whether it be sickness, temptation, or aridity.
(When God is Silent, p. 100-101)

It was with a little bit of cheek that I thought semi-complainingly in those days leading up to Lent, “But, Lord, how can I know what to do for Lent? According to Martinez, I will always choose to wrong thing when given the choice. Only You know.” Nevertheless, I prayed, reflected, and chose my Lenten penances.

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When Things Fall Apart

When Things Fall Apart

I prefer matters in the classroom to move along pleasantly. Students listening to my directions the first time, papers being turned in on time, and the whole class period moving in a peaceful, cohesive movement would be ideal.

Yet it often when things fall apart that I am compelled to pray more than usual.

Which leads me to still desire the peaceful perfection which eludes while offering a begrudging gratitude for the ways difficulties stretch me. Why can’t the peaceful moments produce as much growth as the moments when I am fraying and grasping after grace? If only I could have a lovely, gentle day of teaching and return home saying, “That was a day of fruitful growth.” Instead, I encounter unexpected difficulties beyond my comprehension or control and I return home battle-weary saying, “I am going to need so much more grace to endure this.”

This week, I had some tense encounters with a student and I found myself at a loss for how to handle the anger which seemed directed at me and yet disproportionate to the impact I could have possibly made on the student. It has been a slow burn from the beginning of the semester, but it seemed to be close to bubbling over this week. During an open period, I found myself trying to unwind, rosary beads slipping through my fingers, as I wondered how I would endure the months to come. And while I didn’t come up with any easy solutions, I was seeing that regardless of the stress and tension this student was adding to my life, there was also the goodness of turning to the Lord in prayer. I didn’t think I needed an additional reminder that things are outside my control, but I seem to be overruled in the matter.

The kind, peaceable students who are a delight don’t generally make me fall to my knees, begging the Lord to offer His guidance and grace. It is the students who push my limits, annoy me to the point of insanity, and lash out at me with their own set of jumbled emotions that cause me to turn to the Lord, recognizing my inability to manage without Him.

A quote from St. John of the Cross came to mind the other day which says, “Where there is no love, put love–and you will find love.” I wrote this on my board and I am already finding myself staring at it, trying to will myself to put love into situations which seem to offer me no good will or pleasure.

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To Embrace Life

To Embrace Life

I’ve been doing prison ministry for several years now, but I have found myself entering into it in a new way over these recent weeks. Washing dishes at a Christmas celebration, I found myself thinking, “I bet some of the guys would really love to be washing dishes with their families right now.” The simple, mundane act of driving to work caused me to wonder, “How many of the guys really missing just driving a car?” As a break from school found me randomly sick, which it often seems to do, I gracefully vomited into the toilet and thought, “I’m glad I have a bathroom where I can throw up by myself and not have an auditory audience of dozens of people.” Numerous other scenarios have come up, too, as I have lit the candles for the Advent wreath, wrapped beautiful presents to gift to family members, had the ‘opportunity’ to shovel snow, and wanted a book so I ordered it online–throughout it all being prompted to remember that these are all things I would feel more grateful for if my life looked a little different.

It isn’t that I believe prisons shouldn’t exist or even that most people are there unjustly or undeservedly. Instead, I have been prompted to recall how the incarcerated are persons and even if the punishment fits the crime, there is a lived experience of it which might make us more compassionate if we were aware. It has caused me to feel a real grief for some of the men and to mourn a bit for what their lives could have been and yet see them try to embrace the life that is now offered to them. There is a strength that is involved in spending year after year in prison, a heartache that is real when you know that you will never get out of prison alive or that your kids will be completely grown by the time you are released. In no way do I understand this, but I have felt a sliver of this grief as I have gotten to know some of the men and I feel like this melancholy has grown a bit in these recent days.

Yet my life is not in prison.

Perhaps oddly, this has been my reflection as we move into the new year. I am not in prison so I should seek to soak up the things that these guys want to do but cannot. (Like, obviously, within reason.) There are many aspects of my life which, like the men in prison, I cannot control or make happen. Honestly, the Lord’s will seems as inscrutable to them as to me. And yet there are things I can do to not just pass the time, to not just look forward to the next weekend or the next break from school. For me, it can be easy to be trapped in moving from one day to the next, wishing for something different and yet seeing the same thing sprawling endlessly into the future. I don’t want to live like that, especially when I sometimes try to encourage the men in prison not to do that.

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