God
Faith
Prayer Request
I have a pulsating headache today from a cumulative lack of sleep-- but I have many things about which I want to write, so I feel compelled to proceed anyhow. As the voice in "Altered Beast" on the Genesis would say, "Wise fwum yo gwave!"
Before I proceed, I also have a prayer request: a close friend of mine at church, Dennis, is continuing to have health complications. If you could pray, specifically to St. Raphael, for the healing of his body, it would be extraordinarily appreciated.
The Nature of Suffering
What's interesting about suffering is that I have managed to successfully invert my previous perception of it: rather than viewing it as a bad thing and lamenting its presence, I use it as a way to sharpen my focus on ministering to those around me. I only share this altered viewpoint not with the intent of bragging-- which would be silly anyhow, since it is God who gives such graces-- but as a personal testimony to others that it is in fact possible to achive such a state, though I thought it nearly impossible myself mere weeks ago.
Mass Reading
I lectored this morning at Mass, and it so happened that today's first reading was "the deacon passage / we don't have time to wait on tables", Acts 6: 1-7. That was fun timing given the immiment (this fall) beginning of my studies. We also elected the latest member to our Pastoral Council after Mass.
Carnal Sins
I asked God at Mass on Friday, why are carnal sins bad? He explained to me that our bodies are tabernacles for His most blessed heart-- especially right after we receive Jesus in the Eucharist. He then asked me, would I permit someone to enter the church, and profane the tabernacle in the sanctuary? Of course not, I would do anything in my power to stop that person's actions, right to tackling them to the ground if it were necessary in an extreme case (such as vandalism). Why then, God asked me, would I profane my own body, or someone else's?
Fallen Host
My friend Cassie and I encountered a fallen host in the Sacristy on Friday. Unsure how to proceed, since we did not know whether it had been consecrated, we very carefully placed it into a pyx for protection, until we could consult one of our priests.
At First Saturday Mass yesterday, I asked our pastor. He said that in such a case where the state of the host is unknown, and it's also not known whether it is safe to consume (perhaps it is very old), it should be placed in an ablution cup and dissolved in water, until the form of the accident-- the form of bread-- no longer remains. Then, it can be poured into a sacrarium, or directly into the Earth.
The basis for this idea is that the presence is no longer there once the host is sufficiently dissolved, because it is no longer mostly bread. So even if the host had been consecrated, through these steps we would be erring on the absolute side of safety.
Prayer Service
On Friday, I was prayed over by two great charismatics. One of them was my very dear friend, Cassie. Another was a man named Curt, who I had only just met. I asked them to pray for my ability to abandon myself completely to God.
Cassie had me repeat over and over "my mantra", so-to-speak. She had no way of knowing, other than via the Holy Spirit, how important this expression is and has been to my Faith: "Lord, I trust in you." I could feel the healing in my body, as I repeated after her. Curt implored me to let myself go completely.
After having prayed with them, Cassie and Curt both moved to different sections of the church. I felt an irresistable compulsion to approach Curt again.
I asked him how long he had known he was a charismatic. He said, "Hmmm, I guess I found out when I started speaking in tongues." I was astonished! Out of all of the people I've ever met, I've only ever encountered one other person who could speak in tongues (a young lady on the path to great holiness-- perhaps for another day). I expressed this amazement to him. He smiled and joked in humility: "Well, in the 1970s all of us were speaking in tongues."
Then he explained to me that, eventually, the church cracked down on charismatics. I asked him why this was. His reply: "Some of them [the charismatics] started to think that they were running the show." I remarked, "Ahh, ego!", to which he responded "Yes... ego can be the absolute worst." I affirmed: "Pretty much every dumb mistake I've ever made in my life was due to ego."
He nodded, then said something so profound that I felt like I was punched in the stomach. It was the piece of my personal spiritual formation puzzle, which I had been grasping for but couldn't find; after all, if you want to hide something, hide it in plain sight-- it had been right in front of me the entire time, but I hadn't noticed it.
Here is what he said:
"You know all of those anxities and worries you have inside of you? When you really start paying attention to the needs of everyone else around you, those other things don't really matter anymore."
I audibly gasped. It was like a cross between a gasp and a sob. The sound just involuntarily came out of me, from deep within my soul. A gasp, and a sob, all rolled into one.
What he said was something I already knew, on some level: I mean, I knew the Saints were always in service to others. But in that moment, hearing it from this man, right in that instant... I felt in my heart a door open-- like something I thought was true, but was fighting, or resisting: suddenly I truly believed it: unabashedly, one hundred percent, with zero doubt. I suddenly could "see it", and understand it, and wrap my mind around it. I could almost physically grasp it, and roll it around in my hands like a pebble.
It became somehow visible to me-- almost tangible. And I believed.
I turned to him, crying, and gave him-- this guy I'd only known for maybe ten minutes-- a huge bear hug, which he reciprocated. I told him, "The Holy Spirit just gave me what I needed." He took my hands, and was so happy for me.
I turned, practically stumbled out of the church, and drove home in tears, praising God the entire way. Fifty years from now, if God still has me on this Earth, I will remember Friday as one of the very most pivotal in the entirety of my formation.
Another Blessing Beside
One other anecdote from Friday. I was walking past the enormous baptismal font in the church's generous narthex. There was this guy, a little older than me, a little shorter, with short, curly brown hair. I immediately felt a sort of connection with this man, and I could tell it went the other way do. We waved at each other and smiled.
A little later, I went outside to drop something off at my car. There was a man smoking a cigarette. He turned to me, and it was him again-- the same man! We laughed and made a joke about it. Later in the evening, I went in the men's room, and who walked up to wash his hands, right next to me? The same guy! But now we were really laughing about it-- "How many times we going to cross paths?"
As I was with the two aforementioned charismatics, a man came up and sat in the chair to be prayed over. I looked up-- it was him again! The fourth time. But what he said next explained everything about the connection I felt towards him: "I'm Father Dan's dad, by the way."
Oh!
Father Dan is our parochial vicar, and is my spiritual director and confessor. He has been and is monumental to my formation-- a colossus in my life, and rarely has there been a wiser man. And this guy sitting in front of me is his dad. What a huge blessing to have been able to meet him.
Before I proceed, I also have a prayer request: a close friend of mine at church, Dennis, is continuing to have health complications. If you could pray, specifically to St. Raphael, for the healing of his body, it would be extraordinarily appreciated.
The Nature of Suffering
What's interesting about suffering is that I have managed to successfully invert my previous perception of it: rather than viewing it as a bad thing and lamenting its presence, I use it as a way to sharpen my focus on ministering to those around me. I only share this altered viewpoint not with the intent of bragging-- which would be silly anyhow, since it is God who gives such graces-- but as a personal testimony to others that it is in fact possible to achive such a state, though I thought it nearly impossible myself mere weeks ago.
Mass Reading
I lectored this morning at Mass, and it so happened that today's first reading was "the deacon passage / we don't have time to wait on tables", Acts 6: 1-7. That was fun timing given the immiment (this fall) beginning of my studies. We also elected the latest member to our Pastoral Council after Mass.
Carnal Sins
I asked God at Mass on Friday, why are carnal sins bad? He explained to me that our bodies are tabernacles for His most blessed heart-- especially right after we receive Jesus in the Eucharist. He then asked me, would I permit someone to enter the church, and profane the tabernacle in the sanctuary? Of course not, I would do anything in my power to stop that person's actions, right to tackling them to the ground if it were necessary in an extreme case (such as vandalism). Why then, God asked me, would I profane my own body, or someone else's?
Fallen Host
My friend Cassie and I encountered a fallen host in the Sacristy on Friday. Unsure how to proceed, since we did not know whether it had been consecrated, we very carefully placed it into a pyx for protection, until we could consult one of our priests.
At First Saturday Mass yesterday, I asked our pastor. He said that in such a case where the state of the host is unknown, and it's also not known whether it is safe to consume (perhaps it is very old), it should be placed in an ablution cup and dissolved in water, until the form of the accident-- the form of bread-- no longer remains. Then, it can be poured into a sacrarium, or directly into the Earth.
The basis for this idea is that the presence is no longer there once the host is sufficiently dissolved, because it is no longer mostly bread. So even if the host had been consecrated, through these steps we would be erring on the absolute side of safety.
Prayer Service
On Friday, I was prayed over by two great charismatics. One of them was my very dear friend, Cassie. Another was a man named Curt, who I had only just met. I asked them to pray for my ability to abandon myself completely to God.
Cassie had me repeat over and over "my mantra", so-to-speak. She had no way of knowing, other than via the Holy Spirit, how important this expression is and has been to my Faith: "Lord, I trust in you." I could feel the healing in my body, as I repeated after her. Curt implored me to let myself go completely.
After having prayed with them, Cassie and Curt both moved to different sections of the church. I felt an irresistable compulsion to approach Curt again.
I asked him how long he had known he was a charismatic. He said, "Hmmm, I guess I found out when I started speaking in tongues." I was astonished! Out of all of the people I've ever met, I've only ever encountered one other person who could speak in tongues (a young lady on the path to great holiness-- perhaps for another day). I expressed this amazement to him. He smiled and joked in humility: "Well, in the 1970s all of us were speaking in tongues."
Then he explained to me that, eventually, the church cracked down on charismatics. I asked him why this was. His reply: "Some of them [the charismatics] started to think that they were running the show." I remarked, "Ahh, ego!", to which he responded "Yes... ego can be the absolute worst." I affirmed: "Pretty much every dumb mistake I've ever made in my life was due to ego."
He nodded, then said something so profound that I felt like I was punched in the stomach. It was the piece of my personal spiritual formation puzzle, which I had been grasping for but couldn't find; after all, if you want to hide something, hide it in plain sight-- it had been right in front of me the entire time, but I hadn't noticed it.
Here is what he said:
"You know all of those anxities and worries you have inside of you? When you really start paying attention to the needs of everyone else around you, those other things don't really matter anymore."
I audibly gasped. It was like a cross between a gasp and a sob. The sound just involuntarily came out of me, from deep within my soul. A gasp, and a sob, all rolled into one.
What he said was something I already knew, on some level: I mean, I knew the Saints were always in service to others. But in that moment, hearing it from this man, right in that instant... I felt in my heart a door open-- like something I thought was true, but was fighting, or resisting: suddenly I truly believed it: unabashedly, one hundred percent, with zero doubt. I suddenly could "see it", and understand it, and wrap my mind around it. I could almost physically grasp it, and roll it around in my hands like a pebble.
It became somehow visible to me-- almost tangible. And I believed.
I turned to him, crying, and gave him-- this guy I'd only known for maybe ten minutes-- a huge bear hug, which he reciprocated. I told him, "The Holy Spirit just gave me what I needed." He took my hands, and was so happy for me.
I turned, practically stumbled out of the church, and drove home in tears, praising God the entire way. Fifty years from now, if God still has me on this Earth, I will remember Friday as one of the very most pivotal in the entirety of my formation.
Another Blessing Beside
One other anecdote from Friday. I was walking past the enormous baptismal font in the church's generous narthex. There was this guy, a little older than me, a little shorter, with short, curly brown hair. I immediately felt a sort of connection with this man, and I could tell it went the other way do. We waved at each other and smiled.
A little later, I went outside to drop something off at my car. There was a man smoking a cigarette. He turned to me, and it was him again-- the same man! We laughed and made a joke about it. Later in the evening, I went in the men's room, and who walked up to wash his hands, right next to me? The same guy! But now we were really laughing about it-- "How many times we going to cross paths?"
As I was with the two aforementioned charismatics, a man came up and sat in the chair to be prayed over. I looked up-- it was him again! The fourth time. But what he said next explained everything about the connection I felt towards him: "I'm Father Dan's dad, by the way."
Oh!
Father Dan is our parochial vicar, and is my spiritual director and confessor. He has been and is monumental to my formation-- a colossus in my life, and rarely has there been a wiser man. And this guy sitting in front of me is his dad. What a huge blessing to have been able to meet him.