Breaking Through the Darkness

I've taken to listening to a podcast by a Catholic biblical scholar named Michael Barber. He interviewed a convert (Steven Ray) and the subject of conversion came up a few times. It reminded me just how much I love conversion stories. A useful exercise from my CPE days was to ask: what's behind that?

For the sake of starting with a positive point, I'd say that a big reason I love conversion stories is the hope it gives me. In the daily life of any Christian, a painful martyrdom sounds easier than living a consistent, holy life. Praying every day, living a true Christian charity, and taking up one's cross in the littlest ways. We need to fight the good fight, run the race; it's easy to lose sight of the goal and focus on the fight itself, the race itself. Once we do that, we're toast. We'd be crushed under our own burdens. Hearing about a conversion story restores that hope--hope founded in the promise of salvation.

Not only do we have hope restored, but our thoughts are refocused on that hope. Salvation! Heaven! What we were truly made for! Our compasses need constant refocusing, especially when it comes to moral decisions. But focusing on our eternal destination doesn't just help with morality; it helps us bear the burden of suffering, gives us the "big picture" when we're drowning in the minutiae of life, and most importantly, it provides that little reminder that God loves us enough to fashion us an eternal destination.

On an emotional level, hearing a conversion story is very affirming. To be totally honest, part of the feeling is pride. "See, I'm right!" That's simple human nature. If the affirmation stops there, it's useless and our pride cancels out the grace sent our way. Any warm, fuzzy feeling of affirmation has to be founded in the truth. As a Catholic I believe the Church contains the fullness of truth--as founded & established by Him who is the Way, the Truth, and the Life.

Lastly, don't forget the power of God. We have the Scriptures with us every day and we're very comfortable with the that our God kind and loving. That's very true, but our Lord is a God of words and deeds. Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead! He fed 5,000 people! He spoke and the stormy sea subsided! Our Lord can work similar wonders in our soul!

O Patron, My Patron

Today is the feast of the glorious apostle, evangelist, sprinter (John 20:3-4), and theologian: St. John. Earlier today I planned to write a glowing post about the surpassing awesomeness of my patron. Alas, for this close to bedtime, some scattered thoughts will have to do.

I can't imagine what John's life was like after the resurrection of Jesus. John shared some intimate moments with Our Lord during His Passion: resting his head on Jesus' chest during the Last Supper, following Jesus up the road to Calvary, and then being given charge of Mary... from Jesus, as He was dying. How crushed John must've been to see Jesus die!

Maybe that's why John ran so quickly to the empty tomb. There must have been some glimmer of hope, hanging on for dear life... perhaps from John's learning? Schooling? Something about being raised on the third day... If John & Peter knew what backflips were, they would've been doing them all the way back to the upper room.

What a blessed life he had! Knowing Jesus personally and then taking care of Mary for the rest of her life. The conversations they must've had! Imagine going to their house for dinner and hearing their stories! ("You know, John, you should really write all this down...")

St. John, pray for us!

Just Like Breathing

Back in the seminary, a common homiletics technique was to start a homily with a story. Ever since my time in the seminary, I'm not incredibly fond of that technique. It can be effective if done well, but often I find it distracting and a waste of time.

One of the stories I heard in a homily was the story of a wise, holy man instructing a young man on the importance of prayer. They were walking by a river and the wise man motioned for the young man to kneel down next to the water. The old man suddenly takes the young man's head and forces him underwater. After a little time had gone by, the old man jerked the young man's head out of the water. Shocked and gasping for air, the young man looked angrily at the old man. "When you realize that prayer is as important as breathing, then you will learn how to pray."

I hated this story, and not just because I later saw it in a book by the heterodox Jesuit, Anthony DeMello. Isn't there a non-violent way to convince a person that prayer is vital? How about a way that doesn't involve drowning? Maybe it spoke to some people, but not to me. I couldn't help but envision myself as the young man, eager to learn from the wise man... and that if that happened to me, the lesson I'd come away with is not to ask old, wise men for help.

Still, the underlying principle (prayer is important) is a huge lesson. And, I begrudgingly admit, the lesson is one that everyone has to learn by some sort of experience. It doesn't really matter how much someone tells us the importance of prayer. For us to truly believe its value, we have to experience it.

Recently, I had a wake-up call in my prayer life from a very unlikely source. I started doing push-ups every day, and I have done multiple sets of push-ups every day (but one) in the past two weeks. It was the inspiration of the Holy Spirit that getting healthier involved doing little things each day... and that I didn't have to lose 40 pounds in a week. I've averaged about 60 pushups a day on week days and far fewer on the weekends. Let me tell you, the effect it had on me was incredible.

My spirits were higher. Things didn't get to me half as easily. I felt like a million bucks those first few days! Chalk it up to endorphins or slowly developing discipline... whatever the exact cause, the effect was amazing. What I came away with? I can't believe I didn't do this before; something so simple making that big of a difference!

I immediately thought of my prayer life in the same way. Holiness is gained on the battlefield of everyday life. Many saints have said it; this isn't an original thought. Doing push-ups has been that experience for me--the convincing, lived experience. Doing small things well on a daily basis makes all the difference in the world!