Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Trust

Trust

Last week, when I was teaching my weekly, fifth grade religion class at St. James, one little boy asked me what I meant when I told the class to trust in God. I remember an acquaintance commenting long ago as we discussed the nature of modern schooling, that children should not go to school to learn things but rather to learn ‘how’ to learn things. His words rang very true both then and now to my own way of thinking. I have always employed the art of the question whenever I have taken upon myself the responsibility to educate another, whether I am teaching painting or attempting to enlighten others to what I know of God. This little boy’s question lighted a candle on my own lack of trust in God, a trust that has eluded me for many years.

“Jesus I trust in you” These words are always attached to the beautiful image of Jesus as the “Divine Mercy”, His arms, outstretched as rays of red and white light flow out of His Heart. Trust is such a little word, a simple one even, but for the Christian, it is essential. It is inextricably intertwined with faith, being necessary for us to please God. I responded to the little boy this way. If your mother tells you to go clean your room and she knows in her heart that you will indeed go to your room and you will indeed do exactly as she has asked, then she trusts you. She knows you well enough to know that you will do exactly what she has asked you to do. Of course she may know that rather than cleaning your room, you will instead go and play a video game. Either way she knows you well enough to know, what you will do. If I told you to go home and finish the chapter that we are working on, do I trust that you will?

Do I know you well enough to know what you will choose to do?


As I said these words for the first time l realized the spirit of the word trust, a reality that has eluded me for so long. Father H---- always maintains that he learns by teaching. He is so right. I have been praying fervently, for many months, entrusting to the heart of God a certain beloved person and her needs. I have had no peace, no certainty, and no joy in my praying. Instead I have had abundant fear and sadness. I really didn’t know how to trust God. I didn’t even know that I wasn’t trusting God. I would say, “God I trust you with this, please help”, and then I would cry out my sadness but upon asking my question to that little boy I came to realize that indeed I do not trust God. I have held firmly onto my burden while asking God to take it and I have done this because I don’t trust that He will take good care, fix the problem and save the DAY. Oh, the strange life of faith! As I came to know my lack of faith and trust, I almost immediately had the revelation that Jesus will do as I have asked. He will heal my beloved friend. He will because I know Him and I know His heart on this matter. We have been intimate long enough for me to know what he will do and what His intentions are. I can trust Him and I do trust Him. “Come to me all you who are heavy laden and I will give you rest”. I am still daily lifting my prayers and intentions heavenward but I have the gift of hope and the sure knowledge that Jesus will do as I have asked and although I have not yet seen the deliverance and help that I seek, I know that My Lord is working on it and I do not need to fear the outcome. Praise God and His faithful and kind heart.

Friday, March 4, 2011

Communion of Saints

Communion of Saints



Communion of Saints




A friend recently expressed an idea that praying to the Saints can open a door for Satan to enter in. I wasn’t quite sure that I had heard him correctly. Actually I am still not sure that what I heard was his intended thought. It was an odd moment for me and in my own impatience and certain pride I did not listen, as I should have. Only In writing this am I seeing clearly that in my own monumental desire to convince otherwise, I lost the opportunity to really understand his fears about the Catholic practice of praying with and through the saints.

As a Catholic who loves the Church in all of its seemingly odd and sometimes confusing practices, I readily admit my desire to share the Catholic view and indeed to convince the ill-informed and sometimes even the hostile, to that view. I have recently been praying a beautiful Litany of Humility. “Deliver me oh Lord from the desire of being consulted . . . That in the opinion of the world others may be esteemed more than I, Jesus grant me the desire to desire it.” There are many other beautiful ejaculations within this particular litany but this is the one the strikes me in the heart. It is a sword that reveals the true state of my healthy and still thriving Ego. As my priest expressed in his Sunday sermon past, the Ego is the ever present “I”. It is this very “I” that the Lord wishes to slay within the soul of the Christian and indeed in every man.

If there is one area that I truly lack humility more than another, it is in this: “Listen to ME my friend for I know better than you.” How many opportunities have I personally missed when I, like the quoted fool, “rushed in where angels feared to tread”? One day, when I gain some humility of heart, I will be able to truly listen to the souls I am privileged to spend time with.

“Learn of me for I am meek and humble of heart. ” Can anyone quote another place in scripture where Jesus specifically directs us to a virtue of His own heart that he wishes for us to imitate? It must be this particular quality that is most essential to our becoming "holy" as God wishes us to become. It is strange that as I have journeyed this life of faith, having tread many different paths, from nominal Catholicism to fervent Evangelicalism, back to devout Catholicism, that only recently have I begun to grasp the need for humility in certain areas of my life. The more readily I have submitted my mind to the mind of the Church that Christ founded, the more aware that I have become of the great and evil pride dwelling within me, so much so, that I hesitate today to describe myself as a devout Catholic, falling as I do, so short of the expressed desire of the Savior.