The Rosary: A Powerful Weapon

It seemed hopeless. I found that there was nothing I could do or say to make the situation better. I went to pray the Rosary; offering it for the situation at hand. The rhythm of the words helped me to begin to shut off the anxiety I was struggling with. I was able to mediate upon the mysteries a bit more fully.

After saying “Amen,” I received a call. The situation had been resolved. With my own effort I had only seemed to make things worse. Yet, when I sought the intercession of the Blessed Mother and focused my attention on Christ, humbly acknowledging my own lack, the peace I had tried on my own to unsuccessfully foster, had come.

Is every time I pray the Rosary like this? Absolutely not! Often, I struggle with distractions; meditating more on my “to do” list, a conversation I had, a movie or a game, or whether or not Tom Brady will win another Super Bowl.

Distraction in prayer is common. The witness of the saints, and the very faith we profess teaches exactly that. Prayer requires time, attention and effort; it is discipline for spiritual combat, and we are at war. St Paul reminds us that our struggle is not with flesh and blood, and prayer is one of our greatest weapons. The enemy of our souls desires to pull us away from prayer. We are tempted to become discouraged by distractions and dryness. But the remedy is faith, fidelity to times of prayer, and watchfulness. Even our distractions help us to be more aware of those areas we may need more detachment from in order to grow closer to God! What is needed most is a humble awareness of what hinders our prayer life, for this moves us closer to Christ and helps purify our hearts. Prayer ultimately springs from a desire for relationship with God. We must be humble. We must be persistent. I have found the Rosary to be one of the greatest prayers in helping me in this way. These next 30 days, I encourage you to consider making it a point to pray the Rosary, reflect on the Mysteries proclaimed, each day.

“And He Stayed With Him That Day”

Tucked away at the end of November and the beginning of Advent, is the Feast of St. Andrew, an Apostle, a martyr, a great evangelizer, and a great friend of the Lord. I never paid much attention to St. Andrew before, but in that weird year of 2020, he quietly slipped into my life as a great witness and intercessor. Here are highlights (and lowlights) of St. Andrew’s life which I think we can all learn from:

1. St. Andrew is sometimes referred to as the “Protoklete” meaning the “first called.” Originally a disciple of St. John the Baptist, Andrew was present when St. John the Baptist pointed to Jesus and proclaimed, “Behold, the Lamb of God” (John 1: 36). Andrew and John (John the Beloved, not the Baptist) then began following after Jesus. Jesus addressed them, “What are you looking for?” Jesus still addresses this question to each of us: what are you looking for? Andrew and John reply with a question: “Rabbi, where are you staying?” Which Jesus answered with a simple, yet life changing invitation: “Come and see.” The Gospel tells us: “and they stayed with Him that day”. Andrew didn’t sign up for a lifetime of following Jesus right away, he didn’t know all the suffering this might bring, he didn’t know the great joy Jesus might bring. He just stayed with Him that day. And the next day. And the next day. Everyday for three years, and ultimately, for the rest of his life. Andrew made the decision to accept the Lord’s invitation in one moment, and he renewed that yes everyday. 

2. Andrew constantly brings others to Jesus. The same day that Andrew met Jesus for the first time, he ran to tell his own brother, Peter: “We have found the Messiah” (John 1:41). Andrew brought Peter to Jesus. Peter became the first pope, the leader of the Apostles and the early Church. Yet Andrew trusted his own relationship with the Lord, he trusted that the Lord loved him and wanted him on His mission just as much as He wanted Peter there. Peter was the first person Andrew humbly and joyfully led to Christ, but he was certainly not the last. Andrew was the one who found the young boy with the loaves and fishes in the crowd of thousands and trusted that Jesus could do something great with very little (John 6: 8). Later in the Gospel, when some Greeks want to meet Jesus, they first ask Philip’s help, and Philip takes them to Andrew who in turn goes and tells Jesus (John 12: 20-22) . Andrew was not selfish in his friendship with the Lord, He wanted everyone else to share this friendship too, starting with those closest to him.

3. Andrew ran from the cross once. He was one of eleven disciples not present for Jesus’ Passion and death on the cross. For whatever reason, maybe fear, disappointment, sadness, or shame, Andrew was not at Calvary as Jesus died for him and for each of us. Andrew’s story of following the Lord began with “and he stayed with Him that day.” Yet on this most important day, Andrew was nowhere to be found. We have records of Peter’s reconciliation with the Lord after Peter’s denials. I wonder if Andrew had a similar moment of reconciliation with Jesus after abandoning Him in His Passion? I wonder if Andrew struggled with regret from not being there. Whatever the case, we do know that Andrew returned to the Lord, and returned to sharing Him with others. I wonder how grateful Andrew must have been to celebrate the Mass, knowing that although he once chose not to stay at the foot of the cross, he now stood at the foot of the cross at every Mass. Andrew preached the Gospel after Pentecost, traveling far and wide like the other Apostles. He is most known for preaching in Greece where he was eventually arrested and sentenced to death, death on a cross. Legends say Andrew went singing to his cross and literally embraced it. He who once ran from the Lord’s suffering, now rejoiced to have a share in that suffering. Though Andrew was not present at Jesus’ cross, Jesus was certainly present at Andrew’s cross, and Andrew knew it, and rejoiced in it.

St. Andrew, close friend of Jesus, humble in following, constant in evangelizing, joyful in suffering, pray for us.

Questions for Reflection or Discussion:

• How can you follow St. John the Baptist’s instruction to Andrew: “Behold the Lamb of God” more fully this week? 

• If Jesus looked at you and asked: “what are you looking for?” What would your honest answer be?

• Who in your family or closest circle of friends needs to hear that the Messiah has come? How can you share that news with them? 

• What cross or suffering are you running from? Might the Lord be inviting you to share in His suffering? 

An Invitation

Several years ago, when I was still in college, a local missionary asked to meet me for coffee. It was the week before the fall semester, I had time on my hands, and someone else paying for my raspberry white chocolate mocha sounded good to me. I was so intrigued by this woman just a few years older than me who was a missionary full time, that would take a lot of trust in God and a lot of letting go of other career goals, at least for a while. 

I was already a reasonably committed Catholic. I went to Mass often, I tried to pray, I had even spent  just a summer as a missionary.

She sat across from me and asked about how cross country camp was going, what classes I was looking forward to, and what my hopes for the year were. She asked about my summer travels and listened and laughed with me as I recounted my whirlwind month in Germany and Rome. 

Finally, she asked about my relationship with Jesus. I was a little confused. I had already told her I go to Mass often, that I prayed pretty often, that I didn’t drink as much as my friends did. Then, she put so simply, what I knew I had been often missing or over complicating.

“Kate, you were made for a relationship with God. He formed you and He looked at you with so much love and called you His daughter before you even knew Him. That relationship is broken by sin. But Jesus came to earth, to live like us in all things but sin, to heal that relationship with humanity. To heal that relationship with you. He’d do it all again if you were the only person alive. In every moment of your day, He’s asking for your yes to being in relationship with Him. To living in His love and from His love. He offers you the Sacraments in the Church to strengthen that relationship.”

I’d never heard it put that simply. “You were made for a relationship with God. Sin breaks that relationship. Jesus came to forgive you and restore your relationship with Him. He asks for your yes to Him each day. He gives you grace in the Church to live in His love.”

I had been Catholic all my life, I was prayerful, but there was something about this simple truth that kept ringing in my memory. In the coming months, in moments I was tempted to gossip, drink a little more than I should, criticize someone, or skip out on prayer time the simplicity of that missionary’s gospel proclamation stirred in my memory. “You were made for a relationship. This sin would damage that relationship. Jesus is offering you the grace to say yes and remain in His love.”

That’s true for each of us, Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection is His grand invitation back to relationship with God. Let Him look at you today and remind you that you were created for an everlasting relationship with Him and it starts in this moment. Say yes to Him.

Do you believe that God really wants a personal relationship with you? How can you let Him remind you of that today?

When’s the last time you turned from sin and said yes to Jesus by going to reconciliation?

Is there someone in your life who needs to hear this simple message of the Gospel? What’s holding you back from sharing it with them?

Where is Hell?

A while ago, I stumbled upon a video series by Fr. Chad Ripperger on the Four Last Things—Death, Judgement, Heaven, and Hell—and it changed my life. I went from a Catholic who would identify herself as lukewarm, to one truly desiring more than anything in life, to inherit the riches of the eternal kingdom and live a life of virtue (still working on it… with Christ all things are possible!).

After watching these videos, and acknowledging how transformative learning about the realities of Heaven and Hell were, I found myself asking “Where is Hell?”

NOT “Where is Hell” in terms of a physical location… but where is Hell in the Church? Where are the homilies about Hell? Where is the healthy daily meditation about the reality of death? Many Saints used to have skulls in their living spaces—not out of a morbid interest for deadly décor—but to remind themselves that this life is fleeting, and we are invited to meditate on death and eternal life to come. Where has Hell gone? Is it ridiculous to WANT a homily about Hell occasionally?

Here is my reasoning… and genuine fear with the lack of conversation and teaching on this topic:

The Devil will never cease in the pursuit of souls (1 Pet 5:8); he chose eternity apart from He who is Love (God) and wants to drag each person to that same fate. How? Spiritual warfare; leading us to turn away from God in sin… yes, of course! But also, by getting the majority to ignore him (the Devil) and to believe God and evil are not real and thus sin is not real. Perhaps we see this in the wide-spread belief that every person is “in a better place” after death. How could we know that? — (apart from those canonized of course).

The only conclusion to this dangerous (and false) mentality that is a result of the culture of silence is… If God is not real and there is no such thing as sin, then naturally we can live however we choose and there will be no eternal consequence! This is the opposite of Truth!

The Devil loves hiding in the darkness… because he can do SO MUCH damage from the shadows.

Therefore the Church is called to teach Truth! “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations… teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you” (Mt 28: 19-20). Hell is a real place, and there is every possibility that our souls may go there after death.

Now, these teachings are not meant to incite unhealthy fear! They are meant to grow the love we have for the one God who desires nothing more than our eternal beatitude in Heaven! (Latin: beatus meaning happy, blissful, fortunate, flourishing.) How so? Because the joy and eternal blessings we are made for in Heaven comes by being united to Him who is LOVE, surrounded by nothing except God himself, and wanting nothing for ourselves apart from unity with God. If this is Heaven, then Hell is the antithesis; Hell is being completely separated from God… completely separated from Love.

As we bring ourselves to learn more about the realities of the afterlife, it should bring us to understand the deep love God has for us. So great is his love, that if we choose ourselves in this life—meaning if we choose to ignore his will, separate ourselves from his love, his mercy, his grace, as evident by how we live our lives—he will honor that free choice. He will grant us this choice to live apart from his love eternally. And he grants this OUT OF LOVE. God is love (1 Jn 4:8), and can do nothing but love us. Even love us to Hell…

But God’s same response goes for those that desire to inherit eternal life and strive for that union of Love with the Spirit in this life. “What father among you, if his son asks for a fish, will instead of a fish give him a serpent; or if he asks for an egg, will give him a scorpion? If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the Heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him” (Lk 11:11-15).

God has great gifts in store for us. One of those, if we so choose, is eternal beatitude in heaven! Perhaps one of his greatest gifts on earth, however, is his mercy! Christ came to call sinners (Lk 5:32). An understanding of death, judgement, Hell, or Heaven should ultimately lead us closer to God’s eternal love! It should encourage us to RUN to his endless mercy. The Church has an endless outpouring of this grace and mercy in the Sacraments. God desires you to live with him one day in Heaven. He knows we are sinful and that we can’t do it apart from him… so he GIVES US HIMSELF in the Sacraments to help us along in this “valley of tears.”

The more we understand and meditate on our own death, the greater our love for God grows and our hearts are prepared for the transformation God intends to bring in and through us!

For more on the Four Last Things be sure to check out Fr. Ripperger’s series!

Biblical evidence for Hell:

·         Mt 3:12

·         Mt 25: 41, 46

·         Mk 9: 47-48 (referencing Isaiah 66:24)

·         2 Thess 1:6-9

·         Rev 20:10

·         Judith 16:17

Click for more passages and quotes from the Early Church Fathers.

Depiction of Mt 7: 13-14

Theirs Would Be the Nobility of Humility

Two things have been on my mind lately: humility and castles. 

Humility

I’ve always struggled with humility. Even hearing the word used to make me cringe. A short visit to my family seems to magnify what I already know is inside me: a desire for control, a desperate need to defend myself even when I know I might be wrong. Perhaps my mom says something she heard on the news that I don’t agree with, or my dad makes a sweeping statement about “kids these days” that gets under my skin. I sense a quick, biting one liner boiling up in me to tell them how wrong they are. Mine is not a quiet perfectionism that is content with self-critique. For some reason I want to perfect the whole world around me and allow myself to be tricked into thinking my stinging remark will be just the thing to correct it. 

I’ve prayed the Litany of Humility occasionally since I was in high school (linked below), yet somehow even the word humility left a bad taste in my mouth. It seemed if I grew in humility, I would never get my way in anything. Would humility mean letting my boss, or parents, or loudest friends decide how my days would unfold? I’m slowly learning why humility is not about hiding our desires or opinions or hurts. Humility means surrendering all our desires and thoughts and wounds to the Father and trusting Him. More on that later...

Castles

I just finished reading St. Teresa of Avila’s Interior Castle; her wisdom and deep, mystical prayer life spilled over into soaring descriptions of the spiritual life in all its graces and adventure. She uses the image of a person moving from outside castle walls, through the halls, and into the deepest interior, the shining room where the King Himself dwells and draws us into His own life. I rewatched Narnia and revisited a lovely book called The Princess and the Goblin and found myself drawn into the magnificent stories of kings, queens, and their childlike sense of courageous trust. 

Humility and Castles?

I wondered why the Lord was juxtaposing these themes of castles and humility in my mind and life. To me, castles had everything to do with strength, firmness, elegance. Humility had to do with vulnerability, weakness, flexibility, and poverty. I tried to imagine what royalty celebrating and feasting comfortably in grand halls had to do with monastic images of fasting, praying, and simplicity.

Then, I read a line in Venerable Fulton Sheen’s masterful work, The Life of Christ. He wrote about Jesus washing the feet of the disciples, and he described Peter’s objections to Jesus’ humble, foot-washing love. He wrote of how the Apostles, in their ambition, missed the point of the Servant of Servants, who was at the same time the King of Kings right in front of them. Sheen wrote, “Our Lord admitted that, in a certain sense, His Apostles were kings; neither did He deny their instinct for aristocracy, but theirs was to be the nobility of humility, the greatest becoming the least.” 

It would seem that humility is the place where expectations go to die, yet time and again in the lives of the Saints, we see the only thing burned to ash in them is that which was not of God. All else in the Saints is raised up, glorified, made new, and put at the service of the King of Kings who loves humbly. 

The nobility of humility might strike us as strange, near impossible. Here, I call to mind what the English author Belloc points out about the original meaning of the word paradox which is not “nonsense through contradiction” but rather, “illumination by juxtaposition.” So how can nobility and humility presented together reveal to us the deepest meaning of both words?

Castles are secure places, yet humility also requires us to be secure. Secure in our identity as sons and daughters of the King. Nobility involves a title, yet humility requires us to live with an ever present understanding that this title of a son or daughter of God is not a title we could obtain for ourselves. This is an identity gifted from the Father who takes the loving initiative to call us to Himself. The prideful grasping at control I let overtake me when visiting my family was anything but secure. 

Castles are indeed a place of celebration. Humility too knows how to celebrate: how to celebrate others, how to celebrate the realities of life without fear, how to celebrate small moments and grand moments.

Castles when seen in the distance might seem intimidating or uninviting, but once inside, a person can begin to see the beauty of the interior. Growing in humility too seems insurmountable, yet with the grace of God and some effort on our part, we begin to see how humility beautifully adorns our soul and makes it a more welcoming place for others, including Christ Himself, to come dwell.

Let us pray for the humility to hear the voice of the King, that we may say to others only what He would have us say, that we would have the courage to receive our identity as a gift. 

Let us pray that we will love with humility and live forever in the courts of the Servant of Servants and King of Kings. 

Lessons from a Child: Time with God

There is this local Catholic Church that we pass every morning on our way to daycare. Whenever we pass it, we talk about how Jesus is there! When Clara was younger I would “quiz” her and ask “where does Jesus live?” She’d say, “in the tatternapple!” “Good! Where else does he live?” To which she would answer, “In my heart.”

(Lately she has decided to be silly, so when I ask where he lives she answers “in my belly” and then laughs at herself hysterically! So, I use it to teach her about the Eucharist that one day he will also be in her belly! Haha!)

Anyways, there was one day where we were out running errands. It was one of those days where we have only a couple hours and a lot of stops to make… and with kids unloading and re-loading… the stops take forever! Well, we passed this same local Catholic Church and Clara asked if we could see Jesus. I was like… “yea, he’s right there. Look out your window.” But she wanted to actually GO to Church to see Him. In my rush I thought, maybe I can just say yes, and she will likely forget so naturally I will forget and we will get home in time—so I answered “Sure, we can later.”

Well… She did not forget. After Every. Single. Stop… she asked, “are we going to Jesus now? Mom, PLEASE… I REEEAAALLLLY want to go see Jesus!”

So, tired after a lot of errands, stubborn, and not wanting to unload/re-load kids AGAIN… we passed this Church on the way home. I pulled into the parking lot in front of the Church and said, “We aren’t going to get out, but let’s look up at the cross and we can say a prayer.” Her prayer was sweet and simple and then we pulled out of the parking lot to head home. But from the backseat, I heard Clara say—under her breath to no one in particular—"*sigh* I really missed him.”

After those innocent simple beautiful words from her mouth… I cried quietly in the front seat without her knowing. Because God, through the faith of my daughter, said to me—You get lost in your busyness and forget about me. You drive past me every day. You rush to get home. But all she needed was 3 minutes with me today… because she missed me.

Those 3 minutes out of our day—that I was stubborn and hesitant to take which took no effort on my part—left me, and hopefully left Clara, with an invaluable life lesson from God; that even in midst of each day’s rush, it is so important to pause and spend time with God. ESPECIALLY when we miss him!

Friday the 13th

Middle school is hard. I’ve never heard a single person express any desire to relive their middle school days. That is certainly true for me. Yet, recently, I found myself reflecting on one of my own experiences in middle school.

Friday the 13th. I don’t recall the actual date, or really, even the year; I just remember that it was a Friday the 13th. My school was taking a field trip. For whatever reason, my parents did not sign the necessary permission slip. This meant I had to stay behind. This day, I was not alone. The boy who seemed to have a mission to make my life a hell on earth, also had to stay behind. His parents didn’t sign his permission slip either. As my day began – and by “day” I mean a seven-and-a-half-hour study hall – fear and worry set in. I was sure that this boy didn’t really even know my name. If he did, he certainly didn’t seem to care. He was a cruel artist of vulgarity and a master tradesman when it came to four letter words and insults. It is likely that he could bring the most grizzled of men to tears. I can still hear the names he called me ringing in my ears all these years later.

What followed was the most unexpectedly peaceful day I remember in my time served… er… eh… my time in middle school. Bully is not a strong enough word for my experience with this young man prior to that day. But, this day, alone, just the two of us, in the same circumstances, we found peace and civility. He called me by my name throughout the day. We joked about our unfortunate lot. We found joy during what really was painfully boring. There was no mocking. No poking fun. No name calling. We ate lunch together. Peacefully. I am sure we discussed the episode of the Simpsons that was on the night before. It was a wonderful day. So impactful was this day that I still smile whenever someone issues a superstitious warning about Friday the 13th. “Really? For me, it has always been an unusually lucky and blessed day.”

In John 13:35, Jesus reminds us of something critically important, “The world will know you are my disciples by your love.” In Matthew 5:44, he also issues us a most difficult challenge, “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you…” That is a hard one. I didn’t love this young man. I would dare say I nearly hated him for the way he treated me every day. Those feelings often turned into fear and dread. Yet, this day, I was met with a warm and respectful person… who seemed to be entirely different. In Matthew 5:45-48, Jesus goes even further: “If you love those who love you, what reward have you? Do not even the tax collectors do the same? And if you salute only your brethren, what more are you doing than others? Do not even the Gentiles do the same? You, therefore, must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect.”

What I see in this experience are the obstacles and walls we put up that keep us from loving our neighbors as we should. Perhaps it was due to there being no one to crave attention from, no one to feel the need to impress, no one to perform for, and no one to criticize him, he was able to see me as the human being I am, and in that sense, love me as he ought. For my part, when I was able to forgive in that moment, put down my guard and see him also as a human being, and not some monstrous instrument for my torture, I, too, was able to see his own dignity, and love him in that way. Without all those walls we allowed the world to build between us, we could be friends.

I think there is a valuable lesson in this. Our call to extend love, mercy and forgiveness toward others is not somehow contingent upon circumstances we deem favorable. There is enough hate and division in the world. What it needs most is love; the love of Christ working in and through us. Inspiring our thoughts, animating our actions, transforming hearts, helping us to become who we are meant to be, setting the world on fire with that same love.

Who in your life do you find it difficult to love? How might God be calling you to love them despite the circumstances? 

A Tow Truck, A Man Named Joe, and the Church as a Family

I had just fought with my mom over the phone. Maybe it was some disagreement about where I would be spending Christmas, the way my brother was behaving, or maybe my neglecting to get enough oil changes on my car. For whatever reason, things got heated. It was 10:57 by the time I hung up and rushed into the 11 a.m. Mass at the large urban parish nearest to the hotel I was staying at for a work function that weekend in a big midwest city. 

I was by myself and snuck into a back pew of the semi-circle church, with eyes still watering with a mix of hurt feelings and frustrated tears. 

Going to Mass by oneself is often a lonely experience, but I guess I’ve grown accustomed to it after a couple years of living on my own post-college. This particular morning though, I felt painfully isolated. Maybe it was because I was at an unfamiliar parish, or because I was reeling from my mother’s harsh words, or because of the stress of my class that weekend. 

I quietly cried straight through the readings and Gospel. The only thing I heard from the homily was something about Jesus teaching us to welcome strangers. During the sign of peace, a couple of people nearby shook my hand, said “Peace be with you”, made eye contact with my still teary eyes, gave an awkward half smile, and turned away. 

After communion, I knelt praying with my face in my hands asking God why I still felt so alone even though I was surrounded by other Christians. 

“I thought Your Church was supposed to be a family” I whimpered in prayer. 

After Mass, and endless announcements about all the happenings that week at the parish, I remained slouched in the pew, chin resting on my folded hands, elbows resting on my knees, staring at the crucifix asking God what He wanted my response to be in the face of my frustrated mom and this lonely church. 

No one approached me, no one said hello, no one asked if I was new there. I finally decided that perhaps God would answer my loneliness later on and got up to leave. The vestibule was still buzzing with circles of parishoners chattering after Mass. A man with a stack of bulletins handed one to me without saying a word. As I walked to my car, I was still saying to God, “Seriously, that guy with the bulletins didn’t even say good morning or have a good day, I thought your Church was supposed to be a family.”

As I stood at my car door, I reached into my jacket pocket and my heart sank lower than it already was: in the rush of hanging up with my mom and heading into Mass, I had locked my keys in my car. There they were, set on the driver’s seat in plain view, yet I was locked out. My phone was locked in my car too since I didn’t take it into church with me. I had no choice but to head back towards the clusters of parishoners, choose whoever looked kindest, and see if they would let me call a locksmith with their phone. 

The first woman I approached said she didn’t have her phone on her, and she pointed me towards another lady. I explained my situation to this second woman. She pointed to a tall older gentleman at the other end of the hall and assured me that he could help. I crossed the hall, and mustered the courage to explain myself to a third stranger. 

“Excuse me, sir,” I started. He turned from the group he was chatting with and smiled, 

“Hello, I don’t think we’ve met, I’m Joe, what’s your name?” 

“Oh, um, it’s Kate, I haven’t been here before,” I replied, relieved that someone had finally bothered to introduce themselves and ask my name too. 

“Well welcome, what brings you to church today?” he inquired, still smiling. I had a feeling that if I just wandered to Mass searching for God, Joe would have done everything possible to help me find Him. 

“Oh, I, uh, actually go to Mass every Sunday, I just haven’t been to this church before, I’m just visiting town for this weekend,” I shared.

“Great, I’m glad coming to our parish was part of your visit here. Is everything okay though? ...You seem worried…” he slowly questioned.

“Actually, yes, I accidentally locked myself out of my car, my phone’s in there too, could I borrow your phone to call a tow truck?” I shyly asked.

“Oh that’s the worst, I’ve done that a time or two. And every one of my kids did it at the most inconvenient times! Of course you can use my phone, nearest tow truck service is Northwestern, and if they try to charge you more than $35, you come find me.”

I borrowed Joe’s phone, and he helped me explain to the tow truck company which parking lot to meet me at. I thanked Joe, he wished me luck with everything, and he promised to pray for me in the coming days. I headed towards the door to wait for the tow truck.

After 5 minutes, Joe came and found me and handed me a folding chair to wait in. I smiled and thanked him again. He walked away, but paused, and turned back as if he’d forgotten something. I think it was the Holy Spirit that inspired Joe to say words I’ll never forget:

“Hey, the Church is supposed to be a family, right? If we were in Vietnam, where I went on a mission trip, I’d call you ‘em gai,’ it means little sister. The Church is supposed to be a family.”

It was exactly what I had been asking the Lord for the past hour. The Holy Spirit used Joe to remind and reassure me of the truth I already knew deep down: the Church is meant to be a family. 

• How do you treat the strangers who wander into the back pews at your church?

• Who do you treat as family? How might God be asking you to widen that circle?

• Who’s treated you like family at a time you needed it most? How can you thank them or pray for them?

I See a Movement

March 16, 2020. A day I will never forget. That’s the day the world seemed to completely shut down. The day that all of my work, in which so much of my identity was wrapped up, effectively stopped. Not unusual really for the time. Many felt then, and still do, the sting of the COVID-19 pandemic. Kara and I work in ministry full time. We had planned what was to be our most exciting and most ambitious year! We were looking forward to the fruit that would come from our time in prayer and careful planning. Yet, in a moment, it came screeching to a halt. Suddenly, everything was canceled and closed. We were working from home, and so many routines disrupted. For my part, although I greatly enjoyed the company of my family, and even more having less commitments, I began to grow discouraged. Even though I am an introvert… I am also one of those unusual INFJ types… which means I am an extroverted introvert. Wired for ministry… I need to be able to interact with others. To share the love of Christ with them. All of those plans for the time being seemed to be on hold for what felt like forever… Would I even have a job on the other side of this pandemic? 

It was during this time that I sensed the Lord begin to really tug on my heart. He introduced me to one of my good friends, St Therese of Lisieux through her autobiography Story of a Soul. I sensed that he was showing me that during that time, if I wanted to come through the exile (which it felt like), I would need to be very intentional about diving deep into the interior life for myself. Pursuing him in prayer, in Scripture, in mediation.  

It was during this time that I really began to pray. Presenting my discouragement to the Lord. Presenting to him all the troubles that seemed to be piling up in the world around me. Presenting to him the concern that so many seem to have lost hope, faith, and trust in Him. Even presenting to him the sense of hopelessness that I felt. It was then that I believe the Lord began to speak to my heart in that still small way that he does: 

"I see a movement. I see a group of believers so passionate, so committed, seeking so fully Christ above all things; choosing death before sin no matter the cost, committed to radical holiness. Their very presence is a contradiction to the world. They bring the joy and the light of the Gospel to the world. And the darker the world gets, the brighter their light shines. Greater opposition only brings greater grace. Their devotion, their holiness, is so deep that it shows on their face. Others are drawn to them; drawn into the kingdom. They bring comfort to the hurting and healing to the sick of mind, body and spirit. Their very presence is filled with such grace that it feels like a safe haven for others. They live every moment of their lives mindful to offer up every suffering as a sacrifice for souls. They embrace every moment of the day as the prayer that it is. They offer up every work. They are filled with a joy that others long for, and the more the world opposes them, the more joyful, the more committed, the more aware of God’s grace they become. They live for one thing only: proclaiming his name in word, in thought, and in deed."

I later shared this with Kara. In many ways, it was what we both needed to hear during this time. We believe with all of our heart that God is well able to meet the needs of the time and when adversity and trouble rises up, so too does God’s love and his grace all the more. We have seen this in our work with young people; who give us so much hope! In many ways, this lies at the foundation of Draw Near. We want to do whatever our small part is in helping others to be set ablaze with the love of God! We want to help others become strong towers and safe havens for the lost and hurting in the world around us. We hope that this blog, our podcast, and all the many things that we have prayerfully discerned and planned will help you as you Draw Near to Christ and Draw Near to one another. Come, Holy Spirit.

Motherhood: Mary and Me

This image (bottom of the page) of Mary and Jesus hangs in the entrance of my home. I have never seen another image of the two of them that I relate to more. From the second I laid my eyes on it, it reminded me of a hard time in my life.
When our first child was 5 months old I started wondering how on earth I could be a good mom? How can I live out what God calls me to? This interior struggle fell during a particularly stressful week leading Totus Tuus training for our diocese… which meant I hadn’t seen my daughter for nearly 6 days. I missed her and my husband; I felt like I was neglecting my primary vocation as a wife and mother; I was exhausted and feeling inadequate.
At adoration during training week, I decided to bring my daughter along. Towards the end, the deacon asked if I would like him and our missionaries to pray over me. I held her in my arms and went over to sit in the pew; when asked what I needed prayers I said, “that I could be a good mom.”
There were many hands laid on me while I cradled my child just as Mary cradles Jesus in this image. But there was only one hand I could focus on… as a few tears rolled down my face staring at my daughter, she reached her hand up to touch my cheek. It was as if she was trying to reassuring me. When I saw this image one month later, it brought back that beautiful moment between mother and daughter.
What does this have to do with Mary? I looked at the image and wondered… could she have thought the same things I did? “How can I do this? How can I be the mother of God? Will I be able to carry out what God has planned for me?” Here, I imagine Jesus comforting his Mother exactly as my child comforted me. God set aside his most perfect creation to be his own Mother. There is no doubt that in her humanity, God brought her great comfort for the task set aside for her. Remember… God does this for each of us, too!

“Behold Your Son”

There are few places I prefer to pray more than the Portiuncula, on the campus of Franciscan University. A few years ago, I was on campus for a conference. It was a hot humid day and a storm was moving in. As it began to thunder, and the rain became heavy, I didn’t want to leave. Here, so many times I have found peace, direction from the Lord, reassurance and comfort, and I wanted that again.

This day was different. I had come feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders; tired, burned out and stressed. Amidst the joys of the conference, I still found myself thinking about seemingly hopeless situations that had only seemed to become more hopeless. Yet in the stillness and quiet, tucked back in the trees with only the sound of the rain and occasional thunder, an incredible peace came over me.

It was while sitting in the middle of the grotto, soaked through and through (even ruined my cell phone), just me and Our Lady, that a peace had come over me. I felt such a loving and comforting embrace that suddenly everything else mattered little, even the fact that I was so wet. It was as if the Blessed Mother had taken me into her arms and said, “Rest my son, and do not worry.” I will never forget this moment. Sure, I “knew” all the doctrine about Mary. But this was the first time I had come to experience what it means to say “Mother Mary” in a real way.

Here I really saw how significant Christ, while bleeding out and dying on the Cross, giving us his Mother, truly is. Jesus said to his Mother, “Behold your son;” and to his beloved disciple, “Behold your Mother.” Scripture then affirms that from that day, this beloved disciple “took her into his home.” We to, as beloved disciples must take her into our homes, and allow the love of the Mother of God to penetrate our hearts as only that of a faithful mother can. Her heart is to draw us ever closer to the source of peace that surpasses all understanding: her son, our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

Rote Prayer

In Matthew 6:7, Jesus declares, “In praying, do not babble like the pagans, who think that they will be heard because of their many words.” In its proper context, Jesus is teaching those gathered for his Sermon on the Mount about prayer. He says this right before giving them what the Church sees as the most perfect and sacred prayer, the Our Father.

Before I entered the Catholic Church I heard probably more than a thousand times, how Jesus here is condemning rote prayer; that this proves that prayers such as the Rosary and the Chaplet of Divine Mercy, are nothing other than vain repetition; that priority should always be given to spontaneous prayer. But then something happened.

As I began to study the Faith more carefully, and grow deeper in my relationship with Christ, I realized something that was for me, altogether new. My “spontaneous” prayer had actually become quite rote in many ways. I regularly prayed for the same intentions, drawing from the same Scriptures. Was this “vain repetition?” No! Ultimately my faith was not, and is not in those words themselves, but rather the loving God to whom those words are addressed.

Jesus was not saying that rote prayer is something bad. But rather, Jesus was warning against the very thing that we can all so easily fall prey to: simply going through the motions for the motions sake. See, there is a difference between praying a prayer and saying a prayer. That difference begins in the heart. Furthermore, with the guidance of the Holy Spirit, the Church provides us with a rich treasury of traditions of prayer, so that we may grow in holiness and in relationship with Christ. It is in these prayers that have been handed on to us that we learn the language of prayer. We learn to still our minds, let peace enter our hearts, turn off all the chatter of the world, and draw closer to Christ.

Mary is Relatable

Have you ever thought of Mary and wondered how can I relate to someone who was perfect and sinless (which she was!) when I am not?

This was something I often wondered. In our early relationship, she was this far away woman who I looked up to. I knew I could never attain her perfection, but I wanted to try and be holy like her. This was a good intention! But I remembered that Mary was also human! Apart from being preserved from sin and its consequences (which is… you know… a pretty big deal), we can relate to her as human beings. She had good days. She experienced trials. She had emotions. She laughed and visited with friends. She probably had a messy kitchen occasionally; I tell myself that to feel better. Mind you, all this likely looked far different (and more holy) from our lives, but scripture shows us that Mary is relatable.

Think of the Wedding at Cana and imagine Mary at your wedding. Your guests are there to celebrate you and enjoy time with you. While this is an account of her intercession, she went to this celebration to rejoice with this couple and enjoy time with her family and friends.

Next, she lost Jesus. The Holy Parents lost the Son of God for several days! To their defense… they thought he was among the rest of the pilgrimage, but this I can relate to. I lose my daughter in our own home! She is usually hiding behind a mirror, her rocking chair, or in her closet but still...

Finally, she was a parent. All parents can relate to one another, no matter the circumstance, simply because you are on the journey of parenthood together. It’s rewarding but not always easy. I like the Passion of the Christ scene where Jesus falls and Mary runs to him. As a parent, I relate to that desire to protect my child.

God created Mary to be his sinless mother, and this means she was different from us in many ways! But that doesn’t mean she didn’t have human experiences. In her beautiful humanity, we can all find something in life we can relate to Mary.