Matters of Faith

Unpacking all our boxes seems to be taking an eternity.  This is mainly due to the fact that every time I open a box it feels as if Christmas has descended upon the house.  I sit for ages pouring over every little book and memory that has been somewhat neatly stored away for the past year. Tonight I came across Thomas Merton’s The New Man.  I don’t remember much about the book from when I read it several years ago, but I must have really enjoyed it because I’ve underlined at least half the book.  Perhaps I’ll read it again and rediscover just how great the book is.  Why don’t you join me and tell me what you think?

“Hope then is a gift.  Like life, it is a gift from God, total, unexpected, incomprehensible, undeserved.  It springs out of nothingness, completely free.  But to meet it, we have to descend into nothingness.  And there we meet hope most perfectly, when we are stripped of our own confidence, our own  strength, when we almost no longer exist.” (The New Man, 5).

As I mentioned in my last post, my family and I recently moved.  Oh, sure it was only 5 miles down the road, but man, oh man! it was stressful!  This along with all the typical daily stresses of raising children caused many a sleepless night and anxiety attack.  Needless to say, we kept the prayers going and packed the wine last.

A few days after our move I was sitting in our beautiful livng room munching on popcorn and watching the children explore all the nooks and crannies of the their new home.  It was simply magical to listen to their giggles as they fluttered about the place.  At one point I leaned over to Dan and said, “Isn’t nice to have all that stress behind us now and be able to just enjoy life?”  I then bit into a handful of popcorn and broke a temporary crown and cracked my tooth beyond repair.  Two thousand dollars later (apparently we have very lousy dental coverage) I’m wondering if my cockiness was a bit premature.

Immediately after I broke the tooth I was reminded of a prayer I once endeavored to pray on a regular basis after realizing that I was only ever truly faithful in prayer when I was in the midst of turmoil or was deeply in need.  ”Lord,” I would pray,  ”may I always have some discomfort, some pain or some suffering that I may never forget my absolute dependence upon you.”   The prayer must have worked because now I have a steady flow of crises to manage and often find myself thinking that once one thing or another passes or once some prayer has been answered then I can relax and really enjoy life.  The problem is that as soon as one issue gets solved another two emerge in its place.  The answer, I am discovering, is to accept peace, trust in God, and choose joy despite all of life’s difficulties because every life is chock-full of them.

As I write this post, the words of Horatio G. Spafford’s hymn “It Is Well With My Soul” keep running through my mind.  And surely if there is anyone who can testify to the peace and joy of Christ in the midst of tremendous suffering it is Horatio G. Spafford.  I’ll leave you with the words to this beautiful hymn.

1.	When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
	when sorrows like sea billows roll;
	whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say,
	It is well, it is well with my soul.
Refrain:
	It is well with my soul,
	it is well, it is well with my soul. 

2.	Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
	let this blest assurance control,
	that Christ has regarded my helpless estate,
	and hath shed his own blood for my soul.
	(Refrain) 

3.	My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!
	My sin, not in part but the whole,
	is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,
	praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!
	(Refrain) 

4.	And, Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight,
	the clouds be rolled back as a scroll;
	the trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,
	even so, it is well with my soul.
	(Refrain)

Many apologies for my long absence!  Life has been entirely too busy as of late.  We have recently bought a house and moved.  And now that I have found the coffee maker and our toaster oven I feel as though I can at long last sit down to write (even if it is brief)!

As I was unpacking our boxes of books (and believe me, this is no small task…we have an alarmingly collection of books) I came across Thomas Merton’s The Seven Story Mountain.  When I opened the book, my eyes fell upon a passage I had previously underlined, and for good reason.  I hope it serves as encouragement to you in whatever trials you are currently facing.

“Souls are like athletes, that need opponents worthy of them, if they are to be tried and extended and pushed to the full of their powers, and rewarded according to their capacity.” The Seven Story Mountain, 92.

Never pray for patience or that the Lord will teach you contentment.  As soon as you do, your spouse will be called away on business, all three children will get sick at the same time, your car’s brakes will go out and a virus will attack and crash your computer.  I should have listened to my mother who used to say, “Never pray for patience or you’ll get tribulation.”  I thought she was just being funny!

But, precisely three weeks ago, I kneeled by my bed and asked the Lord to teach me patience and contentment despite my circumstances.  Hopefully, this will explain my absence for the past couple of weeks.  I am beginning to understand the motivation behind St. Augustine’s prayer, “Lord, make me chaste, but not yet.”  My computer should be back soon, and I’ll be back to posting more regularly!

Well, I’ve gone and ruined my son’s life, or at least his entire preschool career.  Apparently, yesterday all the preschoolers were to wear red to school and guess who’s mommy dressed him from head to toe in blue without a lick of red on him.  It didn’t really seem to bother Jack much until I began to apologize profusely for my negligence.  Jack must have realized that he now possessed a powerful weapon against his poor, old, guilt-ridden mother and he decided to wield it without hesitation.  His first attack came just after lunch.  In a sullen, shaky voice he asked, “Mom, can I have a little extra dessert since you forgot to dress me in red today?”  Not long after this he asked to watch a movie, “because you forgot to dress me in red.”  Soon this excuse explained every undesirable aspect of his life.  If he was grumpy, tired, bored, or frustrated it was all because I forgot to dress him in red.  But the straw that broke the camel’s back came when I walked into the living room and found him sitting on his little sister’s head.  Before heading to time-out he stopped and said, “Okay, Mom, but do you want to know why I was sitting on Catie’s head?  It’s because you forgot to dress me in red today.”  This naturally set the stage for a nice, long talk about accepting apologies and offering mercy…and also about emotional blackmail (though I think I lost him on this one).

                As I settled into bed last night and began thinking about the day I felt myself become very irritated at Jack’s attempts at manipulation and then suddenly fearful that he might become one of those dreadful people who have convinced themselves they are nothing but a victim of society and have absolutely nothing to do in life but wallow in their misery (yes, I know it’s a little irrational).  But just before I fell asleep I was reminded of something I wrote in a journal a few years ago.  I searched high and low this morning for the journal so that I could post the entry here in hopes that it might mean something to someone…

                “In my own life I have become increasingly aware of the fact that, though many factors may have initially contributed to its formation, my overly critical and negative spirit is inextricably linked to my deep frustration that I am not the person I have always dreamed I would be.  Life did not unfold the way I planned, and I have not responded to its challenges the way I had hoped I would.  I may not be responsible for all the suffering and pain I have endured, but I am responsible for my reactions to it.  Even more humbling than this is the realization that the attitudes and actions that vex me the most in other people only do so because they are the very attitudes and actions I find in myself so deplorable.  I am irritated by the arrogant and self-postulating only because I am full of pride and feel threatened when attention has been diverted away from me.  I abhor passive-aggressiveness because I am deeply ashamed of my own manipulative tendencies.  I feel judged by the crowd because I am an impassive and judgmental person.  But rather than allowing the sting to my pride to beckon me to humility and repentance, I have remained enslaved to my pride and contented myself with blaming the world, and at times even God, for my disappointments and frustrations.

                Why have we chosen to continue under the debilitating and exhausting burdens of anger, spite and despair when we have been assured a yoke that is much easier to bear (Mt. 11:28-30)?  I suspect that for most of us there lay beneath our hard, protective surface a willingness to admit that the world is not entirely to blame for our misery.  We deeply regret our past decisions and actions and yet we still find it much too difficult to drink from the cup of shame and humility in the presence of Christ though He offers us healing and forgiveness.  We may even crave repentance and the acceptance of responsibility for the part we have played in our state of brokenness, but we cower in the darkness, desperately avoiding the light for fear that by stepping into it we might reveal what we have suspected all along—we are worthless creatures who can never become more than we already are.  But along with accepting our sinfulness and the responsibility of our failures, we must learn to love and accept ourselves as God’s dearly beloved children.”

Every now and then I like to pull down my copy of The Habit of Being which is a collection of letters by Flannery O’Connor.  Tonight I read a letter that will certainly become a part of my favorite O’Connor quotes.  I’m certain that some of you may disagree with it, but I’m posting it anyway.  Feel free to respond if you so desire.

“The Church’s stand on birth control is the most absolutely spirtual of all her stands and with all of us being materialists at heart, there is little wonder that it causes unease.  I wish various fathers would quit trying to defend it by saying that the world can support 40 billion.  I will rejoice in the day when they say: This is right, whether we all rot on top of each other or not, dear children, as we certainly may.  Either practice restraint or be prepared for crowding…” (338)

But this will never take the place of my absolute favorite of her letters.  It is one that I make a point to read every time I open the book.

“I was once, five or six years ago, taken by some friends to have dinner with Mary McCarthy and her husband, Mr. Broadwater…She departed the Church at age 15 and is a Big Intellectual…toward morning the conversation turned to the Eucharit, which I, being the Catholic, was obviously supposed to defend.  Mrs. Broadwater said when she was a child and received the Host, she thought of it as the Holy Ghost, He being the “most portable” of the Trinity; now she thought of it as a symbol and implied that it was a pretty good one.  I then said, in a very shaky voice, “Well, if it’s a symbol, to hell with it.”  That was all the defense I was capable of but I realize now that this is all I will ever be able to say about it, outside of a story, except that it is the center of existence for me; all the rest of life is expendable.” (125).

“What does “entering Lent” mean?  It means we enter a season of special commitment in the spiritual battle to oppose the evil present in the world, in each one of us, and around us.  It means looking evil in the face and being ready to fight its effects and especially its causes, even its primary cause which is Satan.  It means not off-loading the problem of evil on to others, on to society, or on to God but rather recognizing one’s own responsibility and assuming it with awareness.  In this regard Jesus’ invitation to each one of us Christians to take up our “cross” and follow him with humility and trust (see Mt 16:24) is particularly pressing.  Although the “cross” may be heavy it is not synonymous with misfortune, with disgrace, to be avoided on all accounts; rather it is an opportunity to follow Jesus and thereby to acquire strength in the fight against sin and evil.  Thus, entering Lent means renewing the personal and community decision to face evil together with Christ.  The way of the cross is in fact the only way that leads to the victory of love over hatred, of sharing over selfishness, of peace over violence.  Seen in this light, Lent is truly an opportunity for a strong ascetic and spiritual commitment based on Christ’s grace.”

                                                                                            Pope Bendict XVI

This morning my husband called to tell me that he had heard an advertisement for an adult puppet show.  Now, it is beyond me as to why a grown adult would want to see a puppet show for any reason other than taking his or her son, daughter, niece, or nephew to an afternoon show, and it made me think of this passage from Agatha Christie’s Nemesis.  The character who is speaking is a headmistress at an all-girls school, and though she is speaking of the girls at her own school I think what she says holds true for many of today’s young men and women a like.

“It happens very often.  Espcially in the last ten or twenty years.  Girls are said to mature earlier.  That is physically true, though in a deeper sense of the word, they mature late.  They remain childish longer-childish in the clothes they wear, childish with their floating hair.  Even their mini skirts represent a worship of childishness.  Their baby doll nightdresses, their gym slips and shorts-all children’s fashions.  They wish not to become adult-not to have to accept our kind of responsibility.  And yet like all children, they want to be throught grown-up and free to do what they think are grown-up things.  And that leads sometimes to tragedy and sometimes to the aftermath of tragedy.”

I often wonder if this is what happens when a person is robbed of their childhood.  Are they subconsciously mourning innoncence lost at too early an age?

Have I ever mentioned that my father is a United Methodist minister?  He and my mother both grew up potlucking, summer-revivaling Methodists as did the majority of our relatives.  Indeed, it was through their faithful and loving witness, and the witness of countless others, that I learned of Christ’s love at a very young age, and I will be eternally grateful to the Methodists for this priceless gift.  

Having grown up so deeply within the trenches of Methodism I naturally developed a great love for the old hymns.  In fact, when I find myself incapable of prayer I pull out my Methodist hymnal and sing or read through the hymns and always find great comfort in their poetry.  Though my favorite hymnist is, of course, Charles Wesley, my favorite hymn of all time (and the one that has brought me through so many tough times) was written by John Rippon (a Baptist minister from England).

                   How Firm a Foundation

1. How firm a foundation, ye saints of the Lord,
   Is laid for your faith in His excellent word!
   What more can He say than to you He hath said—
   To you who for refuge to Jesus have fled?
2. “Fear not, I am with thee, oh, be not dismayed,
   For I am thy God, and will still give thee aid;
   I’ll strengthen thee, help thee, and cause thee to stand,
   Upheld by My gracious, omnipotent hand.
3. “When through the deep waters I call thee to go,
   The rivers of sorrow shall not overflow;
   For I will be with thee thy trouble to bless,
   And sanctify to thee thy deepest distress.
4. “When through fiery trials thy pathway shall lie,
   My grace, all-sufficient, shall be thy supply;
   The flame shall not harm thee; I only design
   Thy dross to consume and thy gold to refine.
5. “The soul that on Jesus doth lean for repose,
   I will not, I will not, desert to his foes;
   That soul, though all hell should endeavor to shake,
   I’ll never, no never, no never forsake.”

Based solely on her scream, one might understandably assume that my middle child was related to Steven Tyler (the lead singer of Aerosmith, for those of you who are not classic rock fans). And as far as I can tell she uses this high-pitched, make-you-want-to-pull-your-hair-out shrill quite indiscriminately.  Sometimes she screams because she has been injured, and sometimes to get our attention or because she’s excited. But sometimes she screams for no apparent reason other than to watch us go bug-eyed, rigid and fall out of our chairs.  

Recently, I have been reminded of something one of the priests at the Cathedral said on a Sunday morning when no nursery services were offered.  Children were screaming, laughing, crawling over the pews, and swinging from the rafters and in response he said, “We are so blessed to have all these beautiful children in Mass with us today. Though they may be a little distracting, they are only acting their age.  Be patient with them, just as we are patient with you.”  It’s really hard to be impatient with a two-year old when I consider all the ways in which my friends and family are patient with some of my non-age appropriate behaviors.