TRUE Unconditional Love

(Minor spoilers for the book Daisy Jones & the Six by Taylor Jenkins Reid are in this post. So if you want to read it, be aware of that).

This week, I have been reflecting on unconditional love.

Naturally, the Triduum brought this on, the time of year when we reflect on the great love of Christ. But a book I just read also brought this to my mind. It's called Daisy Jones & the Six by Taylor Jenkins Reid.

Daisy Jones & the Six is a historical fiction about a rock band taking place in the 1970’s. There is much more depth to it than I expected and I would argue that it changed my life. It changed the way that I see unconditional love.

Through the story you follow the relationship of the lead singer, Billy Dunne, and his wife, Camila. They go through struggles in their marriage like crazy as Billy takes his work very seriously and struggles in the drug and party scene of the 70’s. Camila never once gives up on him.

Most people would say that Billy’s mistakes and actions are unforgivable. He cheats on his wife, he misses his oldest daughter’s birth, and so much more. And, as we learn as he gives his perspective, he does all this in an effort to push Camila away because he believes she deserves better than him. He does not think he’s good enough to be her husband or a father. Yet Camila always fought for him. She never let him run away. Every time Billy fell short she called him on to be better, she pushed him to grow in ways he never would have before.

Billy did some terrible things. Seriously awful. And yet Camila never gave up on him. Where most people would have left him and let him dig his own hole, she always chose him.

That’s how the Lord treats us. He chooses us. No matter what.

On Good Friday, at the hour of Mercy, I sat down to journal about the Crucifixion. I reflected on the unconditional love and mercy of Jesus as he gave his life for me even though I don’t deserve it. In fact, I actively push Him away, just like Billy pushed away Camila. And Jesus fights for me the way Camila fights for billy. He pursues a relationship with me even when I actively avoid one with him.

As I was reflecting on this I was thinking about how I have been shown this in my life. For a long time I struggled to find authentic friendship. Middle school was a whirlwind of friend drama at school and failed friendships. Then in high school I thought I found really authentic friends and then many of those fell off as well. I was left hurt and broken because I thought I would never find good friends who truly loved me.

I struggled to understand the love of God because anytime I made a mistake I lost my best friends.

In my mind, anyone who’d seen the worst parts of me up and left without a second thought.

Obviously, I had family. But family is different. It feels required to love family even when you don’t always get along. It’s not the same type of choice to love your parents and siblings as it is with friends. The option to leave is much more complicated in a family, so the love they showed me felt like it didn’t count. (And this is obviously untrue, but I still struggled to understand true unconditional love because of my perspective on this.)

But in college I joined a household. To put it simply, a household is a group of men or women committed to living a life of discipleship—a life with Christ—together. Each semester we sign a covenant that outlines how we will live. My household committed to living a life of Humility, Genuineness, and Unconditional Love… three virtues I struggle with most.

These three pillars of our households life are intertwined. You cannot have one without the other. So I did my best to understand and practice them. Though, I'm afraid it's taken a long time to really understand them.

My spring semester of my senior year, I got into a huge fight with my roommate. The details are unimportant, but my roommate and I didn’t speak to each other for a full week. I convinced myself that I had done nothing wrong and that I should not be the one to apologize. I pushed all the blame on her and allowed the very small issue to completely separate us.

I was sad and hurt and angry because in my mind when you stop talking that means the friendship is on it’s way out. That’s how it always was for me before. No matter if I tried to fix it or if I fought for it, the other person always gave up. I projected the hurt from those other friendships onto what was going on with my friend and me, I assumed reaching out was pointless because in the end she wouldn’t want to be my friend.

But, I realized that I needed to get over myself and reach out. We couldn’t avoid each other forever since we lived together.

So, I texted her and we made time to talk about what was going on and things were resolved. I expected things to be awkward and for things to not go back to normal. I expected that we might not talk much over the summer and that once I graduated that we would stop talking all together. I didn’t want this to happen, but it’s what had always happened before so I assumed that it would be the same.

It was not. My roommate continued to reach out over the summer and we continued to be friends through my last semester and when I graduated. And as I was sitting and praying on Good Friday I realized that she was the one friend I’d had who truly showed me real unconditional love. The one who had seen my absolute worst aimed at her, who had received actual frustration and unjust anger from me and still pursued an authentic relationship with me. And suddenly I saw Jesus in her. She became the truest example of Christ’s love in my life.

Unconditional love isn’t just the love you have for friends who always agree with you. It’s not just the love of a friend who forgives you when you accidentally say something stupid. It’s the friend who you are so upset with that you don’t speak to them for days and yet they’re ready to completely forgive you no matter what wrong you committed against them.

There were many ways I was undeserving of my friend's forgiveness. The amount of time I held onto my anger, the way that I had approached the situation, the length of time I held onto my pride, etc. But she still forgave me and wanted to continue to have a relationship with me. If that’s not the love of Jesus I don’t know what is.

The Lord loves us and fights for us not only in our best moments, nor only in our mediocre moments, but in our very worst moments. Our sins become his physical crucifixion and he still loves and redeems us. How wonderful is that?

My hope is that one day I can love the way my friend has loved me. I’m slowly learning how to do that and how to forgive the people who have hurt me the most and to love them even better, but I know with God’s grace I’ll get there eventually. For now, I will let the love of Christ penetrate my heart and as I grow in understanding of it I will learn to give in the same way.

To give to the point of being willing to be cut by other peoples sharp edges.

To give to the point of willing the best for the people who have caused the deepest wounds in my life.

To give the way Camila gave to Billy.

To give the way my friend has given to me.

Know of His great love for you, even when you cannot love yourself. He is there and He will never stop fighting for you. He will never leave you.

Originally found on the “Joyfully His” blog. Shared by our Draw Near contributor, EmmaLee Miklosovic. Find the original blog here.

Good Friday - Your Wedding Day

EmmaLee Miklosovic

My relationship with Jesus changed drastically when I learned the way Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross parallels with an ancient Jewish wedding.

When I first started reading the Broken Way by Anne Voskamp she talked about what a traditional ancient Jewish proposal looked like, and how the father of the man would pour a chalice of wine and offer it to his son who would offer it to the woman he was to marry and he would say “This cup is a new covenant in my blood which I offer to you.”

Jesus offers us a Marriage Covenant at the last supper.

Wow.

As someone who has been single for most of my life and has let that define me for a good portion of that time, this was insane for me to read.

This was when I began to see my relationship with the Lord as a romance, a RomCom, if you will.

I have always wanted to be pursued by a man and to fall in love, as most people want. I never found it with any of the guys I knew — I had a bad habit of looking for love in the wrong places for awhile and was left feeling very empty and alone. I was left believing that I wasn’t worth loving, or I wasn’t good enough for a romantic relationship. I felt like I was going to have to settle for less than what I really wanted. So to hear that the Lord offered a marriage covenant to his disciples at the last supper… no, scratch that.

To hear that He offers ME a marriage covenant at every Mass I go to — that was just so unbelievable to me.

He thought I was worthy of His love — the most perfect love.

How could He think that I was worthy? I was only an imperfect girl who found herself far away from Him more often than she would like to admit. But still, he chose me. He chose to love me.

So approaching the Triduum, this is what I am praying about. The marriage covenant offered to me at the last supper. The consummation of the marriage covenant on the cross. The salvation won for me through that gift of love.

And all the Lord asks of me is to receive that and choose to love Him in return — which is all I could have ever wanted in this life, to love and to be loved.

Mass holds a whole new meaning to me now. It’s not a place that I go because I have to, but because that’s where I intimately encounter the One I love.

As with any RomCom, there’s a little drama. I am not perfect and I find reasons to push the Lord away and to turn my back on Him, and yet he still pursues me. He’s the one who runs after me in the rain when I run away, the one who shows up at my doorstep with flowers even though I am the one at fault for whatever conflict, He's the one who loves me no matter what.

Even though I turn away, he never leaves me.

When he offered that marriage covenant, he meant that he would be there through it all.

As we go into Holy Week, I want to encourage you to pray with the Lord as the bridegroom of the Church. As YOUR bridegroom.

His death and resurrection was His marriage to the Church. It is His marriage to you. It is the moment that he gave everything he had to know you and love you, as a husband gives all that he has to His wife, all we’re asked to do is to return that love.

Let the Lord love you this holy week. Lean into your lenten fasts and let Him fill the space where those things should be. Take a little extra time in silence before the Eucharist and let Him show you the love He has for you. This is the holiest week in the year. Embrace it.

Let the Lord love you.

---

This blog post originally appeared on the Joyfully His Blog with Emmalee Miklosovic, and is used with permission.

Finding Myself: My Thoughts on Personal Vocation

EmmaLee Miklosovic

Throughout the year of 2022, I was single. I had dated someone for a short time the year before and it had not been what I had dreamed of. I had a lot of fun with him, but there were things that didn’t pan out how I wanted them to. Plus I was afraid to communicate certain things to him and eventually I felt pretty trapped in the relationship — though I didn’t want to admit it to myself.

I had been so convinced that I was ready for a relationship. I had never dated before, nor had I ever fallen in love (except with Jesus haha) and I was of the mindset that because I was 20 it was embarrassing that I had never dated. I wanted to be pursued by a man, and known by one.

After this relationship, though, I had found that I was not as ready for a relationship as I thought I was. I don’t regret having dated this guy at all, even though it was a humbling experience. I think I needed this experience to realize I needed to take time to focus on Christ as a single woman.

I had never intentionally done this before. I was single by circumstance, not by choice, and so I had never really leaned into my singleness. But this experience of dating made me realize how necessary that is to embracing an intimate relationship with Christ and to serving Him to the best of my ability.

Over the summer I made the decision to take six months to be single and focus on my relationship with the Lord. The purpose had partially been in order to discern my vocation, whether or not I felt called to get married or to go into religious life.

Over the course of that time, my perspective on vocation changed quite a bit. I went from thinking I had to decide whether or not to be religious or get married, to just wanting to know who Christ is calling me to be. This seems like common sense that you would need to discern who you are before discerning how you will spend the rest of your life, but it is very common in Catholic culture to just focus on the state in life vocation of priest, nun, or married and then let everything else follow.

That is not to say this is a bad perspective or anything, but I think in many ways we rush into a vocation because we think we have to, when God has created us for something specific. I think we focus too much on the what we’re supposed to be and not the who we are.

I took a class during my last semester of college called Human and Spiritual Integration. We spent time reflecting on death, on our personal wounds, and on our personal vocations and I found it to be very eye opening — I wish everyone could take that class.

As I have moved to Iowa, I moved with the intention of taking the time to find myself. Not in the secular way of thinking, but I want to know myself as the Lord knows me, what He made me for, who He created me to be. St. Bonaventure has a beautiful quote which says, “Every creature is a divine word because it proclaims God.” We discussed this idea in my class and I have continued to reflect on it as I have moved and started my adult life. What is my “word” so to speak? How do I uniquely proclaim God through who I am?

Dr. Joshua Miller and Luke Burgis have a book titled Unrepeatable where they discuss vocation in a similar way to how I now grasp it. Chapter 3 of their book begins with the story of St. Gianna Molla who had cancer when she was pregnant and in order to protect her baby she refused cancer treatments and ended up giving her life for her child. They discussed how her sainthood did not simply come down to the choice she made to save her baby, but it was a result of the series of choices she made throughout her life to become who God was calling her to be. To live her personal vocation in life.

They go on to talk about what personal vocation is. How a persons personal vocation is the way that the Lord personally calls us to follow Him. It’s more than merely choosing between a state of life, it goes deeper than just deciding to get married. It’s God’s word spoken in us. It’s the sum of what our life had been, “the thread that runs through an entire life from beginning to end.” (Miller, Burgis; 78). It is who we are.

We each are a word of God, and my goal as I have moved away from home and begun my career in ministry has been to find my word. Not to find my state in life vocation, but to find the root of who I am, who the Lord has created me to be.

It is a slow process because I have to patiently take the time to reflect on my life, and allow God into every moment. I have to be intentional about taking time in silence and allowing the Lord to speak (which I am sometimes very bad at). I have to be willing to confront my imperfection and my woundedness. But the Lord will work in and through the time I take for it.

I think it is extremely important to look at discernment this way though, to take the time to figure out who we are, who God has created us to be. I think many people get to their personal vocation after choosing their state in life vocation, and so I don’t think it’s completely wrong to go about it that way. But there is a huge importance to having an intimate relationship with God and in knowing Him, coming to know ourselves.

For so long I have put my state in life vocation before taking the time to truly know who I am in the eyes of the Father. This has caused a lot of pain in my life because I have felt unworthy of romantic love, and not holy enough for religious life. I have felt this insane pressure to make a decision about my vocation as soon as I can because I am an adult and should have my life figured out.

None of these are true, but they are within Catholic culture. We should be forming young people, not to be pressured to make hasty decisions about their state in life vocation, but to find their personal vocation. We should be aiding them in strengthening their relationship with God so they can see who they are meant to be, not what they are meant to be. The state in life vocation will naturally follow what our personal vocation is.

I am no expert by any means, I am still learning who I am. I am young and I am impatient and so it will be a long process for me to confidently be able to say who I am, who the Lord has created me to be. I know that the Lord is working in my life, though, and it will be made clear eventually.

It is a matter of allowing the Lord to guide you, through prayer and having an intimate relationship with Him in the Eucharist, and seeking to follow Him in all you do. Seeking spiritual direction is a great way to help discernment as well, or even having someone to walk with you on the journey. And it is a matter of learning to surrender everything to Him so He can work in you however He intends. He will guide you to where you are meant to be — trust in Him and allow His will to become yours.

He knows you better than you know yourself and He will never lead you to a place where you will not be fulfilled.

---

This blog post originally appeared on the Joyfully His Blog with Emmalee Miklosovic, and is used with permission.

Entering the Desert

EmmaLee Miklosovic

One of my favorite assignments from college was, believe it or not, a final. It was an open book and open note final, but don’t let that fool you into thinking it was easy. I sat in the library for probably 6 hours working on it during the fall of 2020.

The assignment was to reflect on paragraphs 538-540 of the Catechism of the Catholic Church which is a section that is titled “Jesus’s Temptations”. Essentially, we had to break it down and connect it with scripture, and each of the four sections of the Catechism (Profession of Faith, Christian Morality, the Sacramental Life, and Prayer) and write how we would teach the section. I spent hours reading this passage and finding how it connects to each part of my faith and that 6 hours changed my life.

With lent beginning this week, I thought it would be appropriate to share a reflection on the temptation of Jesus and why it should be significant to us because “By the solemn forty days of Lent the Church unites herself each year to the Mystery of Jesus in the desert.” (CCC 540) This reflection is the fruit of that final and my continued reflection on Jesus in the desert.

In the Gospel of Matthew, Chapter 4, Jesus is led by the Holy Spirit to the desert where he fasts for forty days and nights and his time in the desert ends with three temptations from the Devil. Jesus rejects each of Satan’s temptations without fail and stays completely faithful to the Father.

I often find myself asking the question, why would Jesus, the God of the universe, put Himself through the sufferings that we experience as human beings? He could have saved us another way if He wanted to, so why did He choose the hardest, most painful way? Why would he willingly spend 40 days in the scorching heat of the desert with no food or water or company. Then, at the end of those 40 days, when he is tired, and hungry: why would he allow Himself to be tempted.

As I studied the section of the Catechism which discusses this scripture (with these questions in mind), I remember being very struck by this fact: Jesus experienced every part of humanity, and so He has a beautiful understanding of what our lives are like. He experienced physical pain, so when you are in physical pain he understands what you’re going through. He experienced emotional pain so He can understand yours. He experienced temptation so He can understand why we so easily fall into sin. I just remember sitting there, in the library, thinking, “He understands me, REALLY understands me.”

There is a beautiful solidarity He has with us in this experience of temptation at the end of His 40 days. It explains how he can be so merciful, because he knows what we go through. It is important to note that:

He not only allowed Himself to be tempted, but He overcame every temptation that was thrown at Him.

Does this mean we should be hard on ourselves when we fail? NO. It means that we need to rely on Him when we experience temptation because He is our salvation from sin. We cannot overcome sin on our own, that’s WHY Jesus came.

His defeat of Satan through this direct rejection of His temptations gives us hope because HE gives us the strength we need to fight temptation.

In this passage, Christ shows us the importance of prayer in our lives. We must pray consistently if we wish to avoid temptation. Jesus’ temptation was preceded by 40 days of prayer and fasting in the desert, which strengthened Him to face Satan’s temptations. The Catechism states, “Prayer is a battle; only by keeping watch in prayer can one avoid falling into temptation” (CCC 2612). Jesus shows us this by his own life when he entered the desert for 40 days.

As I stated before: If we are to overcome our sin, we have to rely on Christ’s strength. We do this through a relationship through Him, by offering our lives to Him every day through prayer.

This is why fasting is so important. When we fast we give up something good (like food) and offer that sacrifice to the Father so that we (or someone else) would be strengthened by His grace. And if we are willing to say, “no,” to something good, how much more willing will we be to say, “no,” to sin then? Through fasting, we prayerfully strengthen our will to become like the Father’s just as Jesus did because we allow Jesus to be the source of our nourishment.

In this scripture (and through all of scripture, really) we see how temptation works. Satan uses temptation to cultivate doubt in God’s goodness and in His plan. It hinders our trust in God and is meant to blind us to the reality of God’s good desires for us. When we pray and fast consistently, we are able to see the Lord’s perspective in all things — and we are no longer limited to our own perspective. Cultivating a relationship with Christ, seeking to know God personally and relying on the strength of the Holy Spirit is the only way that we can overcome temptation and the way it blinds us. This is why prayer and fasting are so essential.

We fast during lent in order to learn to lean on the Lord. We fast to prepare and strengthen our hearts for the greatest gift Christ gives us through His Paschal Mystery — our salvation. We fast to unite ourselves to the cross and to the mission of Christ and the will of the Father.

The Gospel reading on this coming Sunday (the first Sunday of Lent) will be the passage about Jesus’ temptation. Try to find some time this week to read through it and pray about how you can enter into the mystery of Christ in the desert. How can you learn to lean on God’s strength? What do you need to let go of in order to trust Him more?

He is with you always.

---

This blog post originally appeared on the Joyfully His Blog with Emmalee Miklosovic, and is used with permission.

Seen and Known

Last night I was reading, as I often do after work. I had gotten off work, made dinner, and sat down to watch a couple episodes of a TV show and when my meal was done I turned off the tv and opened my book.

The book I’m reading is a feel-good romance, not too different from your typical hallmark movie. It’s very surface level and sweet, and a nice way to escape reality for a little bit.

As I was reading, there was a scene where the main love interest was having a nightmare and the main character goes to wake him up and comfort him, and as he comes back to reality he holds onto her for dear life until he’s calmed down.

A scene like this does not typically make me emotional. Sure, I find it cute and I think about how I’m excited for a future where I’m married and have someone to hold me when I wake from a terrifying dream, but I never cry reading a scene like that. But last night as I was reading, I realized that it had been over a month since I received so much as a hug from someone who really knew and understood me, and suddenly I was in tears.

It just hit me like a ton of bricks why I could be surrounded by good people who are eager to welcome me into their community and into their homes and yet feel so utterly alone. It’s not because these people are awful or boring or rude, but it’s the fact that they don’t know me. They haven’t seen me at my worst, nor have they seen all of the experiences who make me who I am. They know surface-level EmmaLee who grew up in Michigan and likes to read and graduated from Franciscan University. But they don’t really know me.

They don’t know what I went through to be here. They don’t know why I’m catholic or what my relationship with my family looks like. They don’t know the hard things I went through as a kid or what things really make me happy. They don’t know my weird quirks, or that usually I don’t love physical touch. They don’t know the many nicknames I’ve accumulated over the years or why I have a painting in my office with the name “Greg” on it. They don’t know why I love lambs or why the name Nicodemus is significant to me. They don’t know that I hate peanut butter unless it’s in a reese’s cup. They don’t know that my comfort food is zebra cakes, and they don’t know why (of all things) it’s zebra cakes. They don’t know that my favorite tv show is Gilmore Girls and that I am constantly watching it even though I’ve probably seen it more than 10 times.

I could go on and on.

I feel alone because when they look at me, I don’t feel like they see me.

So, after I put my book down and let myself cry for a little while, I calmed down and drove across town to adoration and sat down and wrote down everything in a little letter to Jesus. I told him how alone I felt and how much I hated having to start making friends from square one. It had come so naturally in high school and college, but it’s been a whole different experience here.

Most of the people I hang out with are much older than me and have completely different lives. I’m here trying to navigate adult life for the first time and all of these people have established their place in the community and have families. It’s hard to feel like I fit in, to say the least.

As soon as I finished dumping all my feelings out in front of Jesus, I just sat there and stared at him. I didn’t know what else to say so I just let myself be there with Him.

Eventually, He showed me that in that moment I was seen and known by Him far better than any human could see and know me. Because He sees me. He sees everything: all of my happiest moments, all of my hardest experiences. He sees the moments I’ve forgotten and the moments I wish I could forget. He knows it all.

He knows me better than I do.

Suddenly, I felt a profound peace. My homesickness and sadness wasn’t completely taken away, I’m crying writing this because I still miss my old life. But I felt peace in the sadness because the Lord made it clear that I am not alone. He is with me and he knows every little thing about me, and He loves me so much more than any human can even imagine.

I ended the night by thanking God for the struggle. This is something I have been doing for years now because it allows me to be open to a whole new perspective. At the end of a sad journal entry, I thank Jesus for the experience of suffering because I know it makes me a better person.

Sometimes this is the hardest thing to do because it’s so hard to see how good can come out of something that hurts so much. But when we suffer we are so intimately united to Jesus in His Crucifixion.

We are called to die to ourselves and follow Christ just as He died for us. This means we must be willing to experience pain and suffering. The Lord does some of the deepest work in our hearts when we are hurting. The greatest saints suffered and allowed that to draw them closer to Christ. Take St. Thérèse of Lisieux, she lost her mother when she was four and then her second mother (her sister Pauline) abandoned her to go become a nun and she suffered with anxiety and depression her whole life. But she allowed the Lord to come into her suffering and to broaden her perspective and to draw her closer to Himself. Death, by it’s nature, is painful. It’s not supposed to be easy. But in my experience, suffering in order to die to oneself has always been worth it.

I am so thankful for the ways that I have suffered. I have not suffered as much as some, but the small sufferings I have experienced in my life have made me who I am. I have often felt closest to the Lord in my suffering because I know that He is with me in it. I know that it has a purpose, even when I don’t see that in the moment. I am a better person because I have suffered. I don’t mean that in a prideful way like, “I deserve more because I’ve suffered and therefore I am better.” But I mean it in the sense that the Lord has broken me down the same way a seed is broken down before it can grow. A seed is buried in the ground and slowly it breaks open and the plant must push its way to the surface. And eventually, after the struggle through the darkness and dirtiness of being underground, it emerges from the soil and becomes a beautiful flower. We can remain a little seed, or we can allow ourselves to be buried and put into darkness in order to grow into who the Lord has created us to be.

He has created us for greatness. But greatness takes work, and we must be willing to work for it. That means taking on hard things. But He is here with us for the journey. He suffers with us, he cares for us when we are too weak to go on. He loves us through every moment.

He sees you. He knows you. And He loves you.

And He is always with you.

Originally found on the “Joyfully His” blog. Shared by our Draw Near contributor, EmmaLee Miklosovic. Find the original blog here.

Walking on the Water

"But when he saw how [strong] the wind was he became frightened; and, beginning to sink, he cried out, 'Lord, save me!' Immediately Jesus stretched out his hand and caught him, and said to him, 'O you of little faith, why did you doubt?' After they got into the boat, the wind died down." Matthew 14:30-32

[I wrote this when I was in college struggling. I knew that the Lord was calling me to offer some major wounds in my life to Him (I had let them define me for too long) but I felt so overwhelmed by them. On the night I wrote this I had been telling him how hard it was to face my past and this was his answer to me. Not the answer I wanted, but definitely the answer I needed.]

You're Peter. You're caught up in the storm and the chaos around you. You're focused on the problems facing you which fill you with fear and anxiety. You look around and all you see are the waves and the storm. The waves are crashing around you as you feel the control you had on your life be washed up in the ocean. Out of desperation, you cry out to Jesus for help. You call out for freedom from the storm, for any moment of peace, but you're still stuck until out of the storm you hear a voice, "I will not let you drown" it says, and you look up to see Jesus standing over you. He holds out His hand and grasps yours but He doesn't pull you out of the water just yet. You continue to see the storm around and out of fear that he won't support you, you let go of His hand and try to stay afloat on your own, but again it is too much and you call out to Him again. This time He says your name, "______, I will not let you drown," and he reaches for your hand again. You take it again and he holds you but he does not pull you up just yet. "I am doing a work in you," He says, "the storm will pass eventually, but you have to trust in me to do the work and I will pull you up when I know that you are ready." "I'm afraid that i'll drown," you say, your eyes darting from Him to the storm around you. "Look at me," He says, turning your face to look him in the eye, "I. Will. Not. Let. You. Drown. I am doing a great work in you, all you need is to keep your eyes on me and trust that I know what i am doing."

The storm around us is raging. We're concerned about politics, school, work, the future, etc. and we so often focus on the storm instead of on Jesus. All we need is to take our eyes off it and focus on Christ. Forget about politics for a second, take a break from homework, when your anxieties take over stop and pray. Refocus on JESUS. The One who gave His life for you. Life is full of chaos. It's one heck of a storm. But God does his greatest works in the storm of our lives. He stretches us in ways we didn't know we needed to be stretched. And in those moments we become more like Him. We learn to let go of ourselves and surrender it all to Him.

Take a moment now. Say a prayer of surrender. Give everything to the One who seeks to save you in each moment. He is for you. And He will never let you drown.

Originally found on the “Joyfully His” blog. Shared by our Draw Near contributor, EmmaLee Miklosovic. Find the original blog here.

Where's My Worth?

There seems to be something strangely poetic about having social anxiety but also being an extrovert.

Some might argue that I am an introvert because of this social anxiety that sometimes keeps me from going out, but I am convinced that I am an extrovert who suffers with social anxiety.

You see, it might take a lot for me to go out, especially if I will be required to meet new people. I think it stems from grade school when I loved to be around people and make new friends, but then so many people bullied me or were my friend and changed their mind and I felt so alone and rejected. It makes sense that someone who loves to be around people and gets energy from being social would then have a fear of it due to having a fear of rejection.

I find that my social anxiety really comes forward when I am going to be around people I don’t know. It helps to have the comfort of someone I do know around because I can meet people through them but if I have to start the conversation I get so afraid of rejection.

You would think it would be perfectly natural to converse with people and get to know them. I DO have friends and so that would imply that some part of me is likable and so I could easily make friends by allowing myself to just be who I am. But that’s the thing about a fear of rejection, you try to protect yourself by trying to be someone you’re not — for me this means I am afraid to joke around and ask questions to get to know people. I am afraid to approach anyone because I don’t want them to think I am weird. But I feel most energized when I DO interact with people, even just being in a setting with people around me who might not be interacting with me (i.e. a coffee shop) I feel more energized and productive than when I am alone in my room.

And yet, after moving to a new place where I barely know anyone, I find myself confined to my private spaces because I am afraid to go out and meet new people. But as a result I am constantly tired and I lack motivation to do much of anything other than distract myself from my loneliness with Netflix or a book or whatever.

This is so interesting to me because it’s my own mind going against my own interests. To be healthy I need social interaction, but my mind is so focused on self-preservation that I am willing to deprive myself of that. I let my fear control me at the expense of my mental health.

It’s so interesting to me how our brains do that. We are hurt by something and it’s natural that we would want to protect ourselves but why do our self-preservation strategies often end up doing MORE damage.

I feel alone because I don’t know anyone. I don’t want to be rejected by new people and so I stay in to protect myself from rejection but the result is that I am even more lonely. There seems to be no winning. Why do we do this to ourselves?

The simplest answer is that this is the human condition. But what does it mean that this is the human condition? Why would we be turned against ourselves like this.

I feel as though one answer to this is that we are selfish as a result of sin. We naturally seek after our own self interest, our own happiness. We want to benefit ourselves before others. Satan knows that this is our natural inclination and he makes this seem appealing to us. He convinces us that if we do this thing to preserve our feelings and our wellbeing, we will be happy. But we find ourselves, often, in a deeper pain that we were in before. The effect of our self-preservation strategy backfires and we are only hurt more and often we hurt those around us more.

That is because it is a lie that we need to protect ourselves. That’s not to say we won’t ever get hurt when we put ourselves out there. But I think something we need to consider is why do we feel this need to preserve ourselves? Is it because we are putting our worth in someone else’s opinion of us or we’re putting our worth in something we posses or something we do well or not so well? It is because we are putting our worth in finite things.

The lie is that we are only worth what the world determines we are worth.

I have put my worth in the opinions of other people for my whole life. Slowly, as I get to know the Lord and see myself in the way that He sees me, I am being freed from that. It’s a long process and it’s not easy. It requires putting myself out there and being hurt sometimes. It means taking the time to grow in humility and learning to laugh at the embarrassing moments and learning not to take myself so seriously. It means getting to know myself in a new way and taking a step back from what the world wants me to be.

It means learning who God wants me to be.

He has made each one of us for a purpose. He has called each person by name. In every moment of every day of your life he is molding you into the person he is calling you to be. That is where the truth lies. It is in Him.

And that truth is that you are worth what He says you are worth.

And to Him you are worth Everything.

He was willing to give up everything for you. He came down from heaven as a human baby and suffered the same things that everyone human does so that He could have an intimate relationship with you. He not only came down from heaven and dealt with every day human sufferings, but he allowed himself to be completely humiliated and suffer the worst death known to man so that you would know that He loves you.

The truth is that we cannot live up to the world’s impossible standards. We cannot become worthy of anything on our own strength. But the Lord does not ask that of us. All He asks is that we give ourselves completely to Him so that HE can make us worthy.

He knows we won’t add up on our own. He knows that we will fall and have to try again. He knows it is impossible for us to prove our worth.

But He chooses us anyway.

And when we can see ourselves in that light, when we can see ourselves through the Lord’s gaze of abundant love and mercy, we cease to feel the need to satisfy the world because we can rest in knowing that He is satisfied when we choose Him.

A simple, “yes” is all he wants of us.

Originally found on the “Joyfully His” blog. Shared by our Draw Near contributor, EmmaLee Miklosovic. Find the original blog here.

My Journey of Faith

"Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name: you are mine." -Is. 43:1

My journey of faith began when I was just a baby, when my parents stood before the Church and I was baptized and welcomed into God's family. Of course, I was too young to understand much of anything at that point, and it wasn't until many years later that I decided I wanted to be Catholic because I loved Jesus and not because my parents were.

I cannot pinpoint the exact moment that I had my personal conversion to the Catholic faith. It was a conversion that happened slowly over time, which is appropriate because that's how we develop as human beings. However, I can pinpoint when the slow, but sure, conversion started.

I think it started in the second grade, when one of my best friends was diagnosed with brain cancer. She was 8 at the time, and I was 7. I was too young to realize that she was dying then, too young to realize that death was even a real threat to every human being. But as I watched her suffer for 4 years with cancer, I eventually learned just how sick she was.

My friend, whose name was Bridget, spent four years in pain that I cannot begin to know or understand. And every time I saw her, she never complained about it or drew attention to it.

I am a 21 year old woman and when I have the flu I can't get through the day without bursting into tears. But Bridget, who was diagnosed at 8 years old and lived only until she was 12, never complained about the pain she was in. Every time she would come to school, she wouldn't ever draw attention to herself or her pain. She would participate to the best of her ability in whatever our class was doing, and she would do it with joy. It didn't matter that, because of the tumor in her head, she had fallen behind and was less experienced than the rest of our class was. She was just happy to be there with us when she could be.

Eventually, she did pass away after a long and hard battle with her illness. But my life was forever changed because I knew her. She is the person who kickstarted my conversion. She didn't know it then, but it is my belief and hope that she knows it now.

Her motto was "Every Day with Joy" (which is how I chose the title for this blog) and she lived it well. I saw that and I wanted to be like her. I wanted to be able to lift up my sufferings to the Lord like she did. I wanted to have the humility she had, not to be ashamed of my weaknesses but to love life despite them. To be joyful in the midst of the tough things that life tends to throw our way.

It wasn't until 8th grade that I connected the dots that a relationship with Christ is how I would be able to live Bridget's motto to the fullest. To live every day with joy meant I had to give every day to Christ.

I don't live that perfectly by any means, I have fallen short of that over and over again. I have given into my sorrows and my pain many times and let them control my life. I spent years deep in sin and shame because of the hurts and traumas that I was experiencing because instead of trusting in the Lord to protect me, I put the responsibility on myself.

For the longest time, actually, I thought to live every day with joy meant that I should pretend that my suffering didn't exist. I thought it meant that I should bury it deep down where no one could see it, not even me. But the problem we have there is that, eventually, those things have a habit of resurfacing. To quote the famous young adult novel by John Green, "that's the thing about pain, it demands to be felt." (The Fault In Our Stars)

Eventually, I learned that to truly live a life joyfully is to acknowledge the sufferings we are going through and to lift them up to the Lord over and over again. Ann Voskamp says, in her book The Broken Way, "feelings are meant to be felt and given to God." We are not meant to be defined by our suffering, we shouldn't wallow in it. We should let ourselves feel our suffering, but we should not let it become who we are.

This is easier said than done for sure, but it is also liberating. It gives the hard stuff meaning. It unites us to Jesus and it can bear some of the greatest fruits when we offer it for those in desperate need of God's grace.

The biggest thing I learned in my faith, though, is that no matter what God is with me always and He loves me. I often find that I am closest to God in my sufferings. Not because it's the only time I turn to Him out of desperation, but because I feel there is a solidarity there. Jesus became human and experienced human pain. So when I am hurting, He is with me in it. He knows the pain I am going through and He understands it better than anyone. Because of that, I feel so closely united to Him when I am hurting.

It is my desire to share this with the world. I want every human being who is alone, tired, hurting, depressed, etc. to know that the Lord is with them in that. You are not alone even when you feel most alone. He is with you in it, He knows how you are feeling, and He will not let you drown in it. He has redeemed you. He calls you to Himself in love. And you are His.

May he bless you abundantly and be with you in all you do. <3

Originally found on the “Joyfully His” blog. Shared by our Draw Near contributor, EmmaLee Miklosovic. Find the original blog here.

To the End of the Street

Thought I would share a little bit from our "I Believe in Love" book study. Responding to the questions, "How would you describe your relationship with God?" and "How is God calling you to grow closer to Him?" This was my answer...

“There are moments when he seems so close, so intimate, I am absolutely overwhelmed by His presence; by His grace. He is the closest friend. And yet there remains seasons where he seems so distant and quiet. I know He is there! But its harder to remember that at times.

I picture it almost like learning to ride a bike. Even more than learning how to walk. For me it seems a better example. There are moments where He runs right alongside me as I pedal. We laugh! I know He has great joy in this; even more than I do. As I get the hang of it, he lets me go on my own a bit. Down to the end of the street. I hear Him cheering me on, but His voice grows more faint as I go along. I know he is there though. I just have to remember to turn back around and come back to him. We do it again, and again.

Until one day, He takes those training wheels off. Despite my hesitation, despite my fear, He says it's time. As He helps me on, holding the bike steady, I start to peddle. Just like before, we both seem to be overcome with joy when I get the hang of it. He's my best friend. My Father. He believes in me. He won't let me fall. Then suddenly I realize, He's behind me and I am heading down the street. Just like he told me before. Still, I'm afraid. This is different, isn't it? But I hold on to the joy we shared; and I keep going. Peddling my heart out; knowing that my Father, my Friend, has even more confidence in me than I probably have in Him.

But, also just like before, when I get to the end of the street, I have to remember to turn around and go back to Him. To hear His voice; to know His love. For the strength, the confidence, the grace to go even further. I have not yet learned, really, how to ride the bike. Only how to ride to the end of the street. If I go further without Him, it only gets harder. I only grow more afraid. So, I peddle to the end of the street, knowing that I must turn around again. The closer I get to the end of the street His voice grows quieter and He seems more distant; but I know He is there. Much more, I know from experience that if I fall, He will be there to catch me; no matter how far He may seem at the time.

Lord, how I look forward to turning around again. But I keep peddling. Knowing that you are there. I believe in your love for me. I believe in my love for you.”

If you would like to sign up, you can join us at: https://community.suscipe.co/share/CcYb8Avb1TFlglBH...

Its a self paced study! I know its a busy time of year. But, please consider joining us!

It is the decision of the Holy Spirit…

Hard times and uncertainty. Difficulty and confusion. Disagreement among the faithful in how to respond in these times is nothing new in the life of the Church. The book of Acts makes this abundantly clear. Not only has the Church faced persecution from the beginning, but there have also been times when internal strife, human failings, and questionable intent have put the unity and witness of the Church in seeming jeopardy.

In Acts chapter fifteen, we read of a group from Judea going about in the name of Jesus Christ, without any mandate from the Apostles and leaders of the Church at the time. Scripture makes it clear that they disturbed the peace of mind and upset many due to their teaching. According to this group, “Unless you are circumcised according to the Mosaic practice, you cannot be saved.”

No doubt an understatement, but Scripture sums up the result of the situation like this: “there arose no little dissension and debate.”

In response, all the leaders of the Church (particularly the Apostles) gathered in Jerusalem for what we know to be the first “Church Council”. Jewish law required circumcision. Was this still a requirement of the Christian? Was this something that would be required of Gentile believers? This would not be the last time the leaders of the Church would need to gather to find the solution to a challenge presented.

Their answer to the question: ‘It is the decision of the Holy Spirit and of us not to place on you any burden beyond these necessities, namely, to abstain from meat sacrificed to idols, from blood, from meats of strangled animals, and from unlawful marriage. If you keep free of these, you will be doing what is right” (Acts 15:28-29). What I would like to focus on in this blog is not so much the list of four things prescribed, but how the “Jerusalem Council” as its known, chose to begin its response. It demonstrates a very important lesson for us.

“It is the decision of the Holy Spirit and of us.” Another translation states it this way, “It seemed good to us and the Holy Spirit.” Notice the emphasis on the Holy Spirit in the decision-making process! Why is this important? What do we have to learn from it? First, let’s look at the words of Jesus: “The Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you everything and remind you of all that I told you. Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give it to you. Do not let your hearts be troubled or afraid” (John 14:26-27).

Here we see an example of the Magisterium (teaching office – pope/bishops in union with him) at work. Jesus has made Apostles and their successors (bishops) servants of the Word; they exercise this authority in the name of Christ and interpret it with the aid of the Holy Spirit. They protect the teaching of the faith from falsification. It is the work of the Holy Spirit and their cooperation and reliance upon Him that is key.

Since the very beginning there have been those who, like these men from Judea, have failed to embrace the faith in its entirety, have majored in minors, have (whether intentionally or not) preached another gospel (Gal 1:7-8), have divided the Church (whether intentionally or not) through phrases like Conservative and Liberal, Charismatic and Traditional, Left and Right. There are indeed, still today – perhaps growing by the day – troubles and division in the Church. Yet the answer and only remedy remains the same today as it did for the Apostles 2,000 years ago. “It seemed good to us and the Holy Spirit.” “It is the decision of the Holy Spirit and of us.” Ultimately, it is God himself, the Holy Spirit that leads us into all truth; that leads and guides the Church and her faithful. It is one of the great mysteries of God that he chooses man to participate in this great work of salvation and as such, has established the Magisterium in this unique way.

Throughout her history the Church has been seen as a boat. It’s a funny thing about boats… to be too far to the right or too far to the left has a habit of putting you outside of the boat. Whether I like it or not, the Catholic Church is a both/and kind of place. Sure, I have my preferences and opinions, but the Holy Spirit is ultimately the Captain of the Ship. Yes, it is true that there are many problems facing the Church. But we have the words of Christ, a promise, that the Holy Spirit will lead us and guide us into all truth. “It seemed good to the Holy Spirit…” This may require me to surrender my pride, to deny myself, to lay down my own agenda, and – certainly at the least – evaluate my thinking according to the standard the Lord has established. “It seemed good to the Holy Spirit and to us” (or even “and to me”). This requires humility. This requires trust. It requires me to stay on the path and follow Him; to not stray. The same principle we see at work in Acts 15 applies in our lives as individuals. “It is the decision of the Holy Spirit…” Can we say this of our decisions? Can we say this of our opinions? Can we say this of our agendas? Whose voice are we listening to?

An Offer

There are a lot of debates currently happening in our country due to a leaked potential Supreme Court decision regarding Roe v. Wade. Some of these debates are more philosophically grounded than others, some don’t even attempt to start from a place of reason. There’s a place for such discussions, but I really don’t want to add to the overwhelming noise, so here’s what my response is to all the emotional and political chaos:

I'm not going to give you reasons or debates on the matter of children in the womb, all I have is an offer: if you ever find yourself facing an unexpected or difficult pregnancy and are struggling to keep yourself and your baby afloat and thriving, send me a dm, text me, I'll do what I can. 

I'll call every person I've ever had a $5 cup of coffee with and ask if they'll give up the next four cups for a friend of mine, I'll call every "pro-life" person I know and tell them it's time to back their beliefs and help pay for your prenatal care or diapers or counseling or your rent or formula or hospital bills. 

I'll do my best to listen to you in the hardest moments and be part of your village so that you don't have to choose between your future and your baby's future. 

Five mamas who I've never met gave five of my siblings life. They're unsung heroes who I'll never be able to repay, but perhaps I could walk with another young mom and help her nourish and nurture her growing baby's life. 

Sure there might be important decisions happening in the courts, but I think the most important decisions are being made in some painful moments in the hearts of young women. No one should feel alone or ashamed in this. I'll do whatever I can for you.

That was my social media post a few days ago, perhaps someone will see it and reach out someday. Perhaps they won’t. But, at the end of the day, if every young woman in your life, your daughters, your nieces, your coworkers, your barista, your nurse, your child’s teacher, the woman in the back pew of your church knew you were someone they could approach when they’re at their breaking point, the courts might not have to end abortion, we could.

Politics is Not Your God

Fred and I were sitting in a coffee shop with a good friend of ours. We were catching up about life and the conversation turned to what was happening in the world. Now… this was 2020… election year. So, there was a lot going on in the WORLD. He was struggling with his environment at school, the noise on social media, everyone needing to have their opinions known and believed, and the division among people in his life because of the upcoming election. It was clearly wearing him down, as it does for so many of us!

In the midst of this conversation between friends, he paused, looked at us and asked, “why do you both just always seem so happy?”

Truthfully, I was at a loss for how to respond. First, the question unintentionally implied that I was never angry; that I never had a bad day; that I never let the noise of the world impact my mood. I knew these to be untrue in my own heart. I see the pain of the world, the misguided ideals, the lack of love and mercy for others, and the absence of God. It hurts the heart! And perhaps that is the theme of this post.

The Heart!

His heart was hurting, too… struggling to find peace in the midst of a noisy world.

Let me ask… Why is it that so often we feel the NEED to have our opinion heard? (feisty Kara making her appearance on the soapbox) 

The world is not your religion; politics is not your God.  

We see something against our views on Facebook and have to comment or argue. Now don’t get me wrong… if anyone feels the desire to deep dive into my social media history over the past 15 years, you will surely find outrageous posts. I was a stark defender of whatever my beliefs were in the moment of the post! I learned the hard way, though, that hearts are not changed because I had a more articulately written argument on an acquaintance’s post. No one magically thought, “That reason is 100% better than my argument against it. She must be right. Everything I have argued is proven wrong. Thank you, Kara, for this newfound wisdom!” 

Sarcasm aside, when we feel the need to be heard, a natural result is a need to be understood. And when we aren’t understood?... Hurt. Struggles. Sadness. The truth that we are often slow to admit is that hearts rarely change when we merely share our opinions.

Because you and I cannot change hearts. (louder for the people in the back)... 

You and I Can. Not. Change. Hearts. 

In Scripture, Mary Magdalene encountered the mercy of Christ and she was changed; the woman at the well met the savior in the midday heat and she left her sin and preached Christ to her town; Paul persecuted Christians but met Christ on the Road to Damascus and was changed. Want more? Matthew the tax collector, the Roman Centurion seeking healing for his servant, the thief on the cross. What do they all have in common? They were changed by Christ! 

God is the only one who can move hearts! 

If we act like the world is our religion and politics is our God–we will surely NEVER change the world. Because only the true God can change the world by changing hearts. 

This was ultimately the only answer I could come up with to “Why do you both just always seem so happy?” Because my happiness is not in what is going on in the world but in what God is doing in my heart. 

I began reading one chapter a night from “Imitation of Christ” by Thomas a Kempis about a year ago. Chapter 26 says, “Never place your whole trust and reliance in weak and mortal man, however helpful and dear to you he may be; nor should you grieve overmuch if sometimes he opposes and contradicts you. Those who take your part today may tomorrow oppose you; for men are as changeable as the weather. Put your whole trust in God;(Prov 3:5; I Pet.5:7) direct your worship and love to Him alone. He will defend you, and will dispose all things for the best… The man whose inner life is well-ordered and disposed is not troubled by the strange and perverse ways of others; for a man is hindered and distracted by such things only so far as he allows himself to be concerned by them.”

I love this quote. It shook me when I first read it nearly a year ago and it shakes me every time this passage shows up in my nightly readings. We often approach strength from the perception that the louder we are, the more people hear us, the more people agree with us… the stronger we are; and the more power there is behind our convictions. When the truth is that the less we rely on the opinions of others and the more we find conviction and power in HE WHO IS Truth and Power… Only then are we strong. Only then can a soul be at peace and have joy. Only then will we–through God–transform hearts!

For your contemplation: 

Where do you place your trust, passion, and faith? 

I choose to place mine in the God of Hope. I'm not perfect, so I pray that every day I wake up and can say, "Jesus, I trust in you."

Today, what will you choose?

Take Her Into Your Home

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.

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, as the rain became more and more heavy, soaked through and through (even ruined my cell phone), just me and Our Lady, that a peace came 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.

Random Pieces

Recently, I made my way across the country to speak to students at Franciscan University of Steubenville. Unbeknownst to me, a major winter storm had erupted right in the middle of my path. What should have been a sixteen-hour drive, turned into about 24 hours… a painfully slow, and at times frightening experience (You will hear more about this storm in a future podcast episode). At one point, it took three hours to move fourteen miles… It WAS THAT bad.

I am not always the most patient person when I am going 7 miles an hour in a 70mph zone… Recognizing that, I thought I would distract myself with a few podcasts that I like to listen to from time to time. The discussion was on board game design; in particular, what makes a good rule book. The host (who is someone I profoundly respect for his genuine niceness and sincerity) said something to this effect: “A good rule book should inspire. It should breathe life into this seemingly meaningless box of pieces and give them a decisive purpose. It should demonstrate how what you have been given is to be used and enjoyed, not just for yourself but those around you. It should inspire you to recognize purpose and meaning and that this is not just a box of random pieces. Everything has its purpose and place, and when that vision is grasped, it finds its meaning.”

I found myself meditating on that profound truth… in a discussion about board games… rule books of all things… for most of the remaining drive.

What does this podcast about board games and rule books have to do with our faith? Well, first, the Bible is not simply a “rule book” in the usual sense, it is something so much more! Something more like those “good rule books” that inspire (which, I promise, do exist… and so do board games that are that good… I am looking at you Viticulture, Scythe, and Wingspan).

Scripture is one of the primary places where we encounter Christ and his great love for us. Where we meet the very person who knit us together in our mother’s womb (Ps 139:13). It is where we encounter the One who created us with a very specific purpose in mind; not just for our own benefit, but for the world around us.

Christianity is primarily about a whom; not a what. It is ultimately about relationship and encounter. The more profoundly one encounters the person of Jesus Christ and the deeper one grows in relationship with him, he “breathes life into the seemingly meaningless” moments, struggles, relationships, or experiences in our lives. Christ breathes meaning into us… the “pieces” and he gives meaning to the “rule book” because it all points to a relationship centered on love.

In that encounter with Christ and His word, in the witness of his grace at work in the lives of the saints, and in the teachings of the Church handed down to us by the successors of the Apostles, we find that the lives we have been given are not just random chance. What is before me is not just a box full of random pieces without any real meaning or purpose.

It is here that we discover the answers to the questions that have been at the forefront of man’s heart for countless ages, “What is my purpose? Where am I going? Why am I here?” It is here that the “rule book” given to us by Christ inspires, breathes life into us and we find our decisive purpose. Love God. Love your neighbor as yourself.

Here we discover our purpose and can say without hesitation: “I was created by love, for love, to love. I am created for loving communion with God and with people. Called to the life of heaven. I am made to know him, love him, serve him so that I can be happy with him in heaven. I am made for two reasons: for the glory of God and the salvation of souls. First my own, then those entrusted to my care and all the Lord may put along my path to love. Everything else is the rest.  He calls me to perfection and holiness (Mat 5:48). Yet, he does not call me to an impossible task because he has given me a helper (Jn 14:16-21; Acts 1:8). Will I make mistakes? Yes. No matter how many times I read the “rule book” … I will make mistakes… I won’t always “win” each game, but he gives me the directions to grow. I get better. I can learn the strategy from that great cloud of witnesses (Heb 12:1). I strive to win the ultimate prize which is heaven. It is worth it and it is why I am here.”

It is a process. It takes time. It takes dedication. It takes passion. It takes great love.

“I Can’t See Jesus”

My three-year-old daughter has a unique gift to bring a smile and joy wherever she goes. Always. Maybe it’s her ridiculously cute laugh, her Disney princess eyes, or her smile; but she is just too much sometimes (in a good way of course). She makes it difficult for me to be grumpy when I want to be. When I would rather sit and pout about my day, she would much rather pick me up with her cheeky grin and giggles because she wants to play a game or just be silly.

She is also one of the Lord’s favorite ways of teaching me the most seemingly simple, yet profound truths lately… Often, lessons I take for granted or never really spend any “real” time putting into practice – no matter how true I know those lessons to be.

Recently, we had one of “those mornings.” You know, where no one can find their shoes, everyone needs to use the bathroom at once, someone peed the bed, and someone else had a blow out in their diaper… and there is only 30 minutes before we need to leave for Mass… Did I mention both of the boys also managed to outgrow their “Sunday best” pants seemingly overnight?

When we surrendered to the fact that there was no way we were going to make our usual Mass time, we managed to limp our way into a different church, feeling defeated… and unprepared. But, knowing we must be holy… or at least look like it when we walk in… and act like we wanted to be there after a “rough” morning.  

It seemed to me as if everyone in the church must have had the same morning we did. Right from the start, I found myself distracted. Focused on all the wrong things, and critical, I half heartedly participated in the Mass… more as a spectator than anything else. The music was not the greatest for the Liturgy that morning… it bothered me. No one looked happy to be there… it bothered me. We got a few stink eyes for the youngest boy being a bit louder than normal and fighting with his sister over who gets to sit where… it bothered me. I really didn’t understand the homily or how it related to the readings… it bothered me. That lady really doesn’t like that my wife and daughters wear veils (by their own choice) to Mass… it bothered me. People were talking loudly through the consecration prayer… it bothered me. What didn’t seem to bother me was the fact that I was forgetting the most important thing: Despite all of what was going on around me, despite my crazy morning, Christ was there, just as he always is. Wanting me to encounter him; wanting to encounter me. Wanting me to receive him Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity in order that I may abide in him and he in me. So that I may have the hope of glory within… That I may recognize that this is also true of those around me.

I wish I would have come to that conclusion on my own. But I did not. When it came time to stand for the Our Father, my little sweet three-year-old daughter began to tug on me and stretch out her arms in the universal “pick me up” sort of way, and she said, “I can’t see Jesus!” “I can’t see Jesus!” Immediately, I was wrecked. In a good way! In a needed way! She taught me something. More accurately, the Lord used her once again, to speak something to my heart.

From her perspective, all she could really see is the backs of pews and… well, the behinds of people. Let’s be honest… in all ways, her level is not the best vantage point in terms of sights (sounds and smells too I suppose). It can be very hard to see Jesus when we have a similar perspective; whether literally or figuratively. My daughter had the right perspective that morning. Not me. She came to see Jesus, and she expected to see him; to experience his presence and she was determined despite whatever may be going on around her, despite her vantage point, despite whatever obstacles may be in her way, she was going to see him!   

“I can’t see Jesus!” She needed me to lift her up so she could see Jesus. Then, I realized, so do I! So do all of us! When we can’t see Jesus in the behavior of those around us, when we can’t see Jesus in the stink eyes and the moans and groans, when we can’t see Jesus in the faces of those who have given up an hour of their day to spend time with him – but look more like they just came from a funeral (including myself that morning) – when we can’t see Jesus in the words and behaviors of others, when we can’t see Jesus in the mirror…

We need someone to pick us up and help us to turn our eyes toward him, to have a better and higher perspective, to see Jesus! St Patrick wrote the words, “Christ in the eye of everyone who sees me, Christ in the ear of everyone that hears me, Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me, Christ in the mind of everyone who thinks of me.” That is what we are to aspire to! That is the life to which we are called. He must increase, I must decrease (John 3:30). We must allow the love of Christ to dwell in us (Col 3:16), to conform us to his image so that others may see him in and through us. In the words of St Paul, “It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me; and the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me” (Gal 2:20). What if we were as the Scriptures say, the living, breathing, walking Bible we are called to be (2 Cor 3:2-3)? For a world starving for the love of God, the only way they can see Jesus is if we get out of the way and let his light shine through us.

That is helping others to see Jesus. That is answering the cry that really is deep within all our hearts, “I can’t see Jesus.” Would you help me? Would you pick me up and help me to see Jesus? We need each other. Scripture says, “As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another” (Prov 27:17). Sometimes the hardest place to see Jesus is in the mirror, in my own heart. That morning my daughter picked me up and said, “This is you. This is what you are made for. This is what you are supposed to look like. Now, I see Jesus.” For our children, and for the world around us, it is more often the case that the Christ others know is the Christ we show them through our words, through our deeds, through our thoughts. It’s past time we help others to see Jesus.

Lent: Get Back Up!

So… It’s Lent. Maybe you are like me. You know all the things that Lent is supposed to be. Generally, it’s not easy; or at least you know it isn’t supposed to be. You give something up; usually something that is a bit of a sacrifice. You try to add a good thing, or maybe two. Prayer. Fasting. Almsgiving. All of the things meant to help you detach from those things that hinder your walk with the Lord, or prevent you from following him as closely as you should. Lent is a time of drawing near to the Lord in the midst of the desert. It is a time of choosing whom you will serve, and saying to the Lord, “Yes, Lord, I love you more!”

But… Then you mess up; or at least if you are anything like me you do. Sometimes the ambition we have for Lent quickly fades as quickly as a day or two, or, maybe, three days in. Like the New Year’s Resolution, our intentions for Lent, can get swept away by busyness, stubborn habits, distractions and the demands of daily life, or at least the things that seem to demand our attention.

It can become easy to fall into discouragement during Lent. This is true no matter how long you have been walking with the Lord. As I celebrate my tenth year as a Catholic this Easter, I would think I would be “better” at Lent by now… But… There is no such thing. In fact, this Lent, I am learning the truth of my own words, “If you think you are good at Lent, you are not.” No. It’s not true that I have ever thought I was “good” at Lent. Truth be told, such thinking sounds a bit like pride. What is true however, is that so far – just one week in – I am realizing just how bad I am at Lent. More accurately, I am learning just how dependent I am upon God’s grace to keep me on the right path.

For several years my family has had a plant-based diet. With that, we often would need some adaptation for Lent as not eating meat on Fridays was no sacrifice for us; at least it didn’t seem that way. For me, this year, that has changed a bit. With the discovery of a gluten allergy, I’ve needed to adjust my diet and have begun eating meat again. The primary focus has been on “gluten free.” To be honest, we had eaten largely a vegan diet for long enough that the “no meat” rule seemed an afterthought…. I kind of forgot! And so here I was, the first Friday in Lent this year… a former vegan… Eating meat on a Friday. However, I had already begun to feel like I just was not measuring up to the MY expectations for Lent this year… I felt awful. Three days in.

 The next morning I awoke to find these words in my mind:

But this I call to mind,

    and therefore I have hope:

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases,

    his mercies never come to an end;

they are new every morning;

    great is thy faithfulness.

These words come from Lamentations 3:21-24. For me it was a reminder that I can’t do this holiness thing on my own. I can’t do it in my own strength. No amount of willing my own sanctification will ever help me if I am not leaning on Christ, abiding in him, allowing his grace to animate my life, and allowing the Holy Spirit to renew my own heart.

Are we called to holiness? Absolutely! Will Lent help us get there? Yes. If we allow God’s grace to work in and through us in the midst of the desert, we certainly will. We have this PROMISE from the Lord: “I am the vine, you are the branches. He who abides in me, and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing” (John 15:5). There are two ways to approach perceived “failure” during Lent. One, I think is too just give up. To ultimately settle for mediocrity. It’s hard to “fail” if we have no expectations. This is to fall and refuse to get back up again. To look at the example of so many great saints and say, “Yeah, that worked for you, but it doesn’t seem to work for me.” St Paul, apostle and author of half the New Testament, wrote, “The things that I want to do I don’t, and the things that I don’t want to do, I do” (Rom 7:15-20. IF that was true for St Paul, how much more true is it for us?

This Lent we must remember that the Lord’s mercies are new every morning. That the only time we fail is when we refuse to get back up again; more accurately, when we fail to allow God’s grace to embrace us and lift us up and set us back on the right path. This was true of the saints, its true for us.

St Maximilian Kolbe is helpful here:
“In spite of having followed faithfully the inspiration of divine grace, the saints are men and women just like ourselves, and their actions and words usually carry the characteristic markings of their own environment…”

There is one thing that all the saints have in common. This one thing is something we can share in now. Where we are. Today. This Lent, and for the rest of this Lent. Saints are simply people who love God. Saints are people who love God and are so stubborn in that love that when they fall, when they fail, they refuse to stay down. They get back up again. In some ways stronger. With a holy boldness. Recognizing their need for Christ all the more. Maximillian Kolbe, himself now a saint, says this so explicitly: “The widespread idea that the saints were people dissimilar to us, is false. Even they had to endure temptations, even they fell and got up again, even they were oppressed by sadness, weakened and paralyzed with discouragement..” They were mindful of Jesus’ words that apart from him we can do nothing (Jn 15:5); that he is our strength for everything (Phil 4:13). “They did not rely on themselves, but putting all their trust in God, after every fall they humbled themselves, honestly repenting and purifying their soul in the sacrament of penance, and then continued immediately to work with even greater zeal. In this way, every fall was useful to them as a small step towards an even greater perfection, and their burden always became lighter.” 

“To Love is to be Vulnerable”

I remember sitting in my dorm room, mad at God, because he called me to the vocation of marriage and here I was (a sophomore in college) not having met my husband. (I was CLEARLY past the age of hope to find love… *please note the sarcasm*).

Sarcasm aside, I had my fair share of heartache, tears, mistakes, wounds, and loneliness. I remember writing in my journal about my heart and telling God I wanted to give him my heart. Don’t be fooled, though. This was not the kind of “give God your heart” that he actually asks for. You know… to love him, to serve him, to pray to him, to rely on him, to trust in him, the list goes on. Honestly, maybe I thought it was at the time. I thought I was doing something selfless and perhaps romantically heroic by giving God my heart. But, I found that journal entry a while ago. I read it. And I felt sorry for the young college girl who wrote it.

As I read through it, it didn’t seem like a genuine “giving” of one’s heart. It read as if I was throwing my heart at God… almost in a way to say, “Here! You take it! I don’t want it anymore!” Like all the hurt and loneliness left me utterly hopeless that God would ever answer my prayers. So, I decided to throw it away… lock it away “for God” (*insert air quotes*). In this heartbreaking journal entry, I saw the truth of the two years that followed. As I read, I could visibly see the wall that I erected around my heart. For the next two years I refused to date or to let anyone remotely get to know me. I became undeniably independent. The only person who truly knew me was God.

In this entry, I wrote, “My heart is locked away in a box buried underground in an abandoned cave.” I guess this was my version of “giving my heart” to God…??? I remember reading a passage from CS Lewis that changed everything, though. It shocked my heart back to life… or I should say God did. The passage said:

To love at all is to be vulnerable… Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it up carefully… wrap it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable… To love is to be vulnerable.

I believe this excerpt was placed in front of me by God. I had done exactly this. I wanted to keep my heart safe so I locked it away. I loved the image of a coffin… because that’s what it was. I was allowing my heart to grow impenetrable, which, according to CS Lewis, meant irredeemable.

Last summer a group of Project Timothy missionaries and I led a girl’s retreat. We led the ladies in a reflection on the Sacred Heart of Jesus and then invited them to imagine their own hearts. What are the beauties; the wounds; the ways God has transformed them? We then all took to our artistic abilities and painted or drew our imagined hearts. I wanted to share all of this because the above-mentioned time in my life was the heart that I pictured and felt compelled to draw.

I had locked my heart away. I cut off its air and let it blacken. I let the lies the devil told me about myself—that I was ugly, damaged, used, dark, broken, wounded—take hold of this dying heart. But, Christ, showing me his own wounds, unlocked this hardened heart and brought to me a new one. He brought a child’s heart. “Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven” (Mt. 18:3). This bright pink heart held nothing except the truth about who I was as his daughter; beloved, pure, cherished, born again. My name, Kara Renee, actually means exactly this! This heart, so simple and small, was given to me to nourish and let grow into a heart that desired so deeply the love of God! To trust as a child trusts.

We all hold on to wounds. Perhaps many of us retract into those wounds and lies and let them control how we interact with the world, with others, or worse… our relationship with God. But I wanted to share this because God is the transforming power. Christ carries our wounds, he speaks truth into the lies we allow ourselves to believe, and he renews us in all things! I want to encourage anyone struggling with wounds, God’s call in their vocation, loneliness, trust, love, or much more to turn those things over to God. Trust that through him, even in the midst of hurt, we are being healed.

Why Me?

“Why me?” So often I find myself asking this question.

Why was I born into a Catholic family and shown truth?

Why did you pursue MY heart all those years ago?

Why am I here in this place or this role when there were so many chances to leave the faith?

Why have you called me to build up the Church in this way?

Why me, when there are so many others in this world and this time and place who could do the same thing, Lord?

“Why me?”

The readings this past weekend really answered this simple question for me. (Don’t you LOVE when Scripture speaks directly into your life?!)

In the first reading, Isaiah, seeing a vision of the heavenly glory, the Lord on his throne and angels all around filling the temple… he says, “Woe is me, I am doomed! For I am a man of unclean lips.” In the second reading, Paul says, “I am the least of the apostles, not fit to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the church of God.” Finally, in the Gospel, Simon Peter says, “Depart from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man.”

As I sat in a room filled with over 500 college students this weekend and heard these words during mass, I thought… this is perfect! We need to hear this! We live in a culture that defines beauty by looking perfect; defines greatness by being successful; defines identity by the image put out to the world of a glamorous life; defines holiness as never messing up. And this false reality… filled with pressure to be flawless makes it so difficult to understand unconditional love.

God loves each person UNCONDITIONALLY! That is his free gift! “’God is Love’ and love is his first gift” (CCC 733). But then there’s that whisper we all hear; the whisper that gets louder and louder that we all ask ourselves. Does God really love me? If only he knew what I’ve done… he wouldn’t love me. He couldn’t love me. That whisper that sounds all too familiar… “Did God [really] say, ‘you shall not eat of any tree of the garden?’” (Gen 3:1). Why is it that we so quickly believe the words from the serpent… the “father of lies” but even quicker question the words from he who is Truth and Love (Jn 8:44)? Christ says, “I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance” (Lk 5:32).

This is the theme the Lord spoke to me through the readings. Each person in the passages can humbly recognize his faults and his sins. And what do they all have in common? —that God called them, and they each followed him. No doubt all three men asked themselves “why me?” Why choose a man of unclean lips to be a great prophet speaking the Word of God through those very lips? Why choose a man who persecuted and murdered Christians to be a great evangelist converting people to Christianity? Why choose a “sinful man” to be the “rock” of the Church, the first Pope?

Because Christ did not come for the righteous. He did not come for the people who have it all together. He did not come for those that have never sinned or never fall short. Jesus came to call SINNERS to repentance.

I felt God answer my question this weekend. “Why me?” He said… “Why you, Kara? Because you are a sinner. Because you fall short. Because you cannot do this without me.” These were not the discouraging words of the father of lies, but the loving and freeing words from my loving Father in heaven. In this reminder he was saying “I have chosen you because you need me.”

This is true for every one of us! We NEED God, and so He loves, He comes, and He calls.

“Come, Follow Me.” Mt 4:19

So Be It

“ Now I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I complete what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions for the sake of his body, that is, the church.” (Col 1:24) 

Sadly, I don’t even remember her name. I only remember the circumstances of our meeting and our conversation. Yet, the Lord revealed so much to me during the course of our time together and I have never forgotten the valuable lesson that came through our discussion – namely, answers to a question I had long asked. 

As a Protestant, studying to become a pastor, and an avid reader of Scripture, I came upon a few verses that I could not understand. I would often ask those I looked up to for answers. Generally, the answers I would receive were something like, “That’s what the Catholics use to justify such and such teaching.” That was never a satisfying answer… What did “we” believe about said passages? What is true? Ultimately, that searching led me to the Catholic Church where I found those answers, largely in the writings of the Church Fathers. 

The passage I have selected above was one such verse. “How could anything be lacking in the sufferings of Christ?” What does this mean? I found the answer in a most unexpected way. As a Graduate Assistant in the Catechetics Office at a Catholic university and a “non-traditional” student with a family, sometimes my experience on campus was different than that of my classmates. The university participated in an exchange with students from another Protestant university known for its biblical studies program. Catholic students would spend time on a Baptist campus, and vice versa. Normally, these students were hosted by university faculty, and dinner in the home was part of the experience. To my surprise, my wife and I were asked to host a group of five or six students, welcome them into our home and provide dinner and conversation for them. 

As a recent convert, they understandably had many questions for me. Most were predictable. Questions about Mary, the intercession of the saints, Scripture and Tradition, all of these were discussed respectfully at length. She seemed rather quiet in this discussion. It seemed as if something was weighing heavy on her heart. It was then that one of the students asked me, “So, enough about doctrine. What’s your testimony? Tell us about your life! How did you find a relationship with Christ?” If only more Catholics would be so direct! 

I began to share my story. Some of it you can find here and here. Beginning from my childhood (an unusual move on my part), I shared stories of struggle and abuse, of striving to find identity, of searching for meaning, of patterns or mistakes (rooted in fear) and so many hurts. I also shared how coming into the Catholic Church felt like the ending of a lifelong journey in which I finally found all that I had been searching for, and a commissioning for a new even greater journey. Through it all, she was quiet. I noticed a tear in her eye. It was then that she began to ask more questions about my childhood. Whether everyone left the table or stayed and quietly listened, I still don’t recall. 

She began to expound upon her own experiences and wounds. It was a deeply personal conversation in which she explained that she had a similar childhood. She seemed especially curious about how I have continued on, how I found healing, how I seemed to have found peace. She also asked how I deal with my past experiences. She even asked a question about how God could allow me to suffer as he had. She was, of course, asking for herself.  

I hadn’t really given it much thought since becoming Catholic. I also hadn’t thought of it in relation to the Scripture passage above. But, these words then proceeded out of my mouth. “I have been able to share my testimony with a few people. It’s not something I share often. Nor something I am willing to share much. But, on a few occasions the Lord has allowed for it. On those occasions others have shared with me that they have found hope in my experience; that they can see that someone with the very same wounds can find healing, can find forgiveness, that God’s grace can do wonders. For that reason and no other, I say that if my suffering is what can help you find healing in this moment, then I say, ‘So, be it.’” She then began to cry. I could sense that the peace of God and the wonder of his grace began to fill her heart. 

What the Lord showed me in that experience is the answer to the question I had so many years ago. Does it somehow make light of what I suffered? Absolutely not! Does it somehow excuse it? No. Does it mean that in some strange way I find joy in that most traumatic experience? A thousand times no! 

So, what does it mean then? Here we come to yet another one of my favorite Scripture passages. Hebrews 12:2 states, “Jesus endured the Cross for the joy that was before Him.” What was that joy? Better, who was that joy? It was me! It was you! It was this student! In all His suffering, He had the good of our redemption in mind. Each one of us. He would have done it all the same even if only one of us would accept the gift of salvation and eternity with Him. His love for us is that real. Similarly, the things we suffer in this life, we are called to unite to the sufferings of Christ, the perfecter and finisher of our faith. We see in both Scripture and Tradition (as well as in the lives of the saints), that our sufferings, when offered up to the Lord, are themselves powerful prayers that serve a redemptive purpose. In this case, what I endured and my story of healing and redemptions that followed were the vehicle for bringing healing to another. By God’s grace, she is not the only one. 

In this world there is so much hurt, so many wounds. Yet, we are not alone in our suffering. So many share our same experiences. We know that Christ, the Divine Physician, is present wherever two or three are gathered in his name. I pray that by God’s grace we can be the wounded healers that we are called to be in this world. I pray that we can find the forgiveness and healing that is so needed and that we can help others do the same. In this way, we can become channels of God’s grace, healing and love overflowing into the hearts and minds of others.

The Baptism of Jesus and Feeling Seen

Just after sunset on a cold January day, I arrived back to eastern Wisconsin after a week long Christmas break at my parents’ home in Missouri. I slipped into a 5:30 Monday evening Mass, and smiled when I noticed my boyfriend had arrived ahead of me and was kneeling in prayer. I slid into the pew next to him and Mass began. It was just a normal Mass, day after the Feast of the Epiphany, week before the Baptism of Jesus. 

During the Prayers of the Faithful, much to my embarrassment, Father added an extra petition: “And I see that Kate has returned safely to us after her travels, so we thank God for her safe return and for her presence and ministry here at our parish, we pray to the Lord”. My face must have turned the same rose hue as my turtleneck sweater. Though his prayer was a kind thought, and a nice welcome after a long day of driving, I still felt embarrassingly called out. 

Later, during the Sign of Peace, rather than a simple handshake, my boyfriend hugged me. A hug made sense, after all we hadn’t seen each other in a week. Yet still my mind raced thinking “Oh dear, do the elderly ladies behind us think a hug is inappropriate here? Does my boss know I’m dating someone? Is anyone going to say anything?” Though it was a kind, even sensible gesture, something in me just couldn’t rest in his brief hug since I was wondering if eyes were on me. 

Later during Mass, I talked to the Lord about it: “Jesus, I feel so oddly seen during this Mass. Between Father’s prayer and David’s hug, I get that they appreciate me, but it’s a little extravagant.” In a way that only He could, the Lord answered my worry and called me back to focus on the Eucharistic prayer with a gentle reminder to my heart: “No matter what happens, the most extravagant display of love at this Mass, and at every Mass, is Mine.” Jesus calmed my distraction and caused me to reflect on His own extravagant love.

Later that week, I read the upcoming Sunday’s Gospel, the account of the Baptism of Jesus. After Jesus was baptized: “the Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form like a dove. And a voice came from heaven, “You are my beloved Son; with you I am well pleased.” (Luke 3:22). The Holy Spirit descended and the voice of the Father proclaiming love and truth over Jesus was heard in front of a crowd of people. That’s very extravagant. And Jesus wasn’t embarrassed, He didn’t run from love, He didn’t wonder what other people thought, He just received the love being spoken over Him by the Father. 

How do I shrink away from love (either the love of God, or the love of people in my life)?

Can I go back and imagine God the Father’s gaze at me at the moment of my own baptism and rest in that extravagant love? 

Who in my life needs to hear love and truth spoken over them?