Becky Eldredge's Blog, page 18

Discipleship In All Ways: Being Single: A Love I Never Expected

I never expected love to look like this. 

The week before Christmas my adoptive family surprised me with an early gift. I teased them, “Is this some tradition of which I was unaware? A gift that must be opened before Christmas?!” They explained with great delight that this was a special exception just for me! I soon unveiled a red velvet Christmas stocking with the letter “B” embroidered at the top. The kids excitedly exclaimed, “It is so Santa knows that you’ll be staying at our house and to leave your gifts here!!”

It was truly a Christmas to remember. I never expected love to look like this.

As a woman who is intentionally single, I have been utterly amazed by the ways God chooses to love me and allows love to enter into my life – especially in people like my best friend, her husband, and their three kids – my adoptive family. I am blessed to now have a spot on their fireplace, but they have given me so much more as well. 

They are the most loyal friends and neighbors – quick to open their home to visitors, hosting socially distant summer BBQs, and rallying the neighborhood kids to play together at the park. Their passion for hospitality was a godsend as the pandemic stay-at-home orders turned from weeks to months, and their open-door policy remained open to me as part of their “COVID bubble”. We celebrated baseball’s opening day (a national holiday at their house!), birthdays, and Thanksgiving together. With Christmas drawing near, and most of my immediate family 500 miles away, I knew the best decision for everyone’s health and safety was for me to stay in Chicago.

I’ve known for a long time that God has called me to be single. (You can read a fuller version of that story here – “Attracted to the Single Life”.)  I gave up dating in my early 30s. And to be honest, I didn’t give up dating as much as I let go of the expectation that I needed to have a permanent life-partner, and I relinquished the constant striving to find the one who would complete me.  

What I discovered along the way was a depth of new relationships that I never imagined possible. Love made itself known through my work in campus ministry, on mission trips, through the pursuit of justice, and in the intimacy of friendship. 

Understanding the single life as a vocation, a calling, and a way of being a disciple is not only accepting our state in life, but a single minded purpose to be in relationship with people in such a way that God’s love is made known in the world. It is about living with greater freedom, intentionality, and pursuit of God’s kingdom.  

Freedom, not in a sense that “I can do whatever I want” but rather, a deep spiritual freedom. Free from fear or hesitation, we are given the freedom to follow God’s call wherever it may lead. Free from the expectation that life should or ought or is supposed to unfold a certain way has allowed me to be open, and for love to enter my life in surprising new ways.

Intentionality comes in choosing to live in relationship with others. My kind and good humored 90-year old neighbor rarely steps outside the house these days, but he brings so much joy when I see him. My single-self has been intentional about checking in with him through a card or a phone call or a wave at the window. We share those mutual feelings of being isolated at home and the desire for connection. The surest cure for loneliness is to reach out to a friend who is feeling the same way. 

The pursuit of God’s kingdom means giving our lives over to the call for justice, mercy, healing, and forgiveness in whatever form that may take. There is an endless need for greater unity and understanding among people who do not look, vote, think, worship, or identify in the same way I do. Being single invites me to love others in a way that extends an embrace to everyone, especially those on the margins and to people who have traditionally been excluded from society.

I never expected love to look like this. But the more I continue to live out my discipleship as a single person, the more I know that my heart is full and complete, ready to share God’s love with others.

 

Going Deeper: 

Read Beth’s book: Party of One: Living Single with Faith, Purpose, and Passion Check out Beth’s blog for more resources on the Single Life 

Photo by Caroline Veronez on Unsplash

 

Discipleship In All Ways: The Canvas of Our Lives

Over the Christmas break I picked up a very old habit – drawing. I think the last time I tried to really draw something other than a quick sketch of a cartoon animal for my sons was college. I forgot how much I loved it. I also forgot how scary it was to put pencil to paper and hope something recognizable or meaningful or just plain beautiful came out from the newly sharpened tip. Immediately upon opening up this door to art again, I also opened up the door to my inner self critic that said: You won’t do it well. It won’t look as good as someone else’s. You will combine color wrong or your lines will be shaky. No one will be able to see the finished product as you saw it coming together in your head. I tried very hard to bat away that inner critic and tell her that it was worth at least trying and seeing what happened. 

Instead of pencil to paper, however, I tried drawing for the first time digitally. After many attempts and YouTube lessons, I learned something very interesting about digital art. Unlike putting pencil to paper, putting stylus to iPad gives you the opportunity to not only twist around the canvas and examine your sketch from all angles but to also easily layer your drawings. Suddenly, the things I drew were multidimensional. They had depth. They had shadows. They had hidden specs of light. Suddenly, I was also able to see and inspect my canvas from all possible angles and notice the hidden beauty in each and every element. Suddenly, I was able to take in the smallest spec of sky blue and the largest splash of brilliant red and see what each had to offer the overall picture. 

Despite what it may seem like at this point, this is not a long advertisement for trying digital art. It is, however, a metaphor for how we should be looking at our calls to discipleship in this life. First of all, we have to silence our inner critic. You know the one that says “I work too much. I don’t have enough time for my kids. I am not as far as I wanted to be at this point in my life.” We have to shush that voice inside because it, like a thick glass cover on an iPad, blocks God’s stylus from adding something beautiful to our ever-changing canvas. Secondly, we have to stop looking at someone else’s call to discipleship and wondering why it isn’t ours. We have to pause the record that repeats incessantly in our hearts the words: “We will never be as good as them.” Of course we will not! We are not meant to be! We will not be as good as them. We will be as good as the persons we were uniquely created to be! 

Like a beautiful sketch or painting, our individual calls from God are meant to be multi-dimensional as well. We are not called to be just one thing in this life. I am called to be a wife, a daughter, a mother, a sister, a friend, a Campus Minister, a writer, and more. My calls also have changed over the years. I have not always been a mother, and I used to teach Math of all things. We are meant to be a multitude of things that bring light to this world. Our lives are also meant to be colorful. They are meant to include both the small specs of sky blue and the large, bold splashes of brilliant red. We are meant to fade when others need to shine and shine when others desperately need our light. 

Finally, as we live our discipleship, we are invited to continual discernment of it. We are asked to zoom in and out and in again on the canvas of our lives. We are invited to shift 45 degrees and see what that angle has to show us. We are called to move pieces around and experiment with which elements are supposed to be in front and which are supposed to fade into the background. We are even called to use the eraser and undo functions from time to time. 

In the end, the invitation I felt to pick up the stylus a few weeks ago and experiment with drawing once again has spurred in me a bigger invitation – the invitation to see my life as a beautiful piece of art that will take a lifetime to be just right. 

Go Deeper:

Spend time in prayer with Psalm 139If you are discerning where God may be calling you next, consider spending time in prayer with the Discovering My Unique Gifts and Call handoutJoin our six week self paced retreat Overwhelmed No More: Six Ways to Discover and Live God’s Vision for Your Life

Photo by Kobu Agency on Unsplash

 

Discipleship In All Ways: Rewind, Fast Forward, Pause

“Tell God to rewind the day. I want to try again.” My four-year-old daughter sobbed uncontrollably in the parking lot of her preschool. After a mishap in the lining up for COVID-safe dismissal, she could not calm down enough to walk out with everyone else. After 20-minutes, one of the Sisters carried her to my car as she continued to cry. We talked about the pajama day and hot cocoa party they had, the special treats for the last day, and finally the incident that had upset her so much. The whole time we were sitting in the now-emptied parking lot, she kept saying she wanted God to rewind her day so she could start over. She wanted her friends (who are now long gone) to come back to school; she wanted to rewind and change the course of the day.

How often have we also wanted to rewind our day? I wish it were that easy. I judged a situation without having all the facts. I reacted angrily instead of listening longer to better understand.  I snapped at my husband and kids because I am tired and stressed. I wish I had been more productive over the weekend. I regret the things I put off in January and February of 2020 that were no longer possible come March. Rewind, start over, try again. 

At other times I just want to fast-forward to when things will be possible again. I want to fast-forward to the end of this never-ending pandemic, the drudgery of working from home with three energetic kids. I look at the mountain of laundry to fold and put away. The same sippy cup seems to be on the counter no matter how many times I wash it. The two hours of remote learning for first grade seems to take five. I can’t tackle this same ToDo list one more time. I want to fast-forward through the constant interruptions, fear, discomfort, and anxiety that made up 2020. Fast-forward to when I can volunteer at the Valentine’s Day parties in my kids’ classrooms, to the long-delayed celebration of my sister’s marriage, to waiting in a long line at Disneyland for my son to see the new Star Wars land (which we were supposed to do for his March 2020 birthday).

This week, the Catholic liturgical calendar moved out of the Christmas season and officially into “Ordinary Time.” We resume the rhythm of our pandemic survival: school, work, virtual Cub Scouts, Zoom ballet classes. From Sunday to Sunday, we put one foot in front of the other. I wake up hopeful and often find myself discouraged throughout the day: one more dish, one more load of laundry, one more email, one more Zoom. I wish I could rewind and do better, fast-forward to the quiet (maybe?) waiting at the end of the day. Both instincts come from the same root: the desire to escape. I want to flee the uncomfortable feelings and the disappointment, in myself and others. Maybe you are feeling this way, too?

Christmas has reminded us that God was born into messiness, fear, and discomfort. God lives not just in the Church buildings and pilgrimage sites, but also in the school parking lot and my laundry room. God joins me as I do the dishes, practice counting to 100, and reminds me that I can’t rewind or fast-forward. When I discover my daughter coloring all over her shoes, I can try to imagine the child Jesus playing alongside her. I am trying to live that call to discipleship, to be guided by Christ, in my own house and in my daily life. 

Discipleship is not just about tending to my own interior world (no matter how important that personal work is). I seek peace and centeredness so I can see beyond my own four walls. God’s people are crying out for hope and healing. Trusting in God’s goodness and provident care does not mean I turn a blind eye to that reality. Rather, it compels me to look more deeply into it and see this moment as an integral chapter in the paschal mystery. 

God is inviting me to do something as a disciple. At the very least, God is softening my heart and purifying my own self-preoccupation. I find myself angry at how willing some are to separate our communities into those deserving and those undeserving of compassion and care. When I see the long lines of cars awaiting meal distribution at our local Churches, I imagine the Holy Family, tired and worn out from their own journey. When I read about massive COVID outbreaks in California jails, I imagine Christ imprisoned alongside these men and women. I am challenged to greater solidarity. To be a disciple of Christ is to allow myself to be shaped by Christ’s dying and rising in my daily life and in the lives of those around me.

 

Go Deeper:

Cultivate an Awareness of God in All Things Enjoy this session from the Ignatian Way seriesPray with the song “In This Place”Allow yourself to be guided in Ignatian Contemplation

Photo by Daniel Schludi on Unsplash

 

Discipleship In All Ways: Come After Me

In today’s Gospel  Jesus is calling Simon, Andrew, James and John to be disciples.  It is a very fitting passage to introduce our next series, Discipleship in All Ways:  

As he passed by the Sea of Galilee,

he saw Simon and his brother Andrew casting their nets into the sea;

they were fishermen.

Jesus said to them,

“Come after me, and I will make you fishers of men.”

Then they left their nets and followed him.

He walked along a little farther

and saw James, the son of Zebedee, and his brother John.

They too were in a boat mending their nets.

Then he called them.

So they left their father Zebedee in the boat

along with the hired men and followed him. 

Mark 1: 14-20 

We see in this Gospel three movements of discipleship:  An invitation, a letting go, and stepping forward to follow Jesus.  I am very aware of these three movements in my life right now also.  

The Invitation:

As the texts from one of my best friends came through to my phone, tears poured down my eyes.  My youngest daughter, Mary, saw the tears flowing down my cheeks and ran over to me and wrapped her arms around my leg.  She looked up at me with her big brown eyes and said, “Mom, are you ok?”  

I nodded my head and told her, “Yes, baby, these are happy tears. I am so happy for my friend’s good news.”  

The news I could not explain to my six-year-old daughter was that my friend was getting an offer to write a spirituality book from a publisher, and I had played a very tiny role in helping make this connection happen.  The tears poured from deep within me because it felt as if God was showing me that all the years of hard work to get through the door was for more than just me.  Maybe, just maybe, it was going to help raise the tide for other women to find a place for their voices in the world of spirituality.  

This moment brought me face-to-face with accepting a new aspect of my call to follow Jesus:  empowering other voices, especially women’s.   

A Letting Go:

When Jesus called Andrew, Simon, James and John, they had to leave something behind.  For them, it was life as they knew it as fishermen.  They physically dropped their nets.  Often, as Jesus invites us to new ways of following him and living our discipleship, we have to leave something behind. 

My journey to live the call of discipleship as a spiritual director and as a writer was not always an easy one.  I was as surprised as anyone when the call came to write eleven years ago.  It was one thing to put words out onto a blog, but writing a book was different.  No way could I do that!  Jesus kept  inviting me though.  The call would well up within me over and over again.  As I began to take concrete steps to follow Jesus, I realized quickly it was going to be a harder journey than I thought.  

Step after step, I was questioned if I had anything to say.  Sometimes, I was confronted about being too young to know anything about prayer and spirituality.  Other times, I was told that women had no place writing in this world.   One of my most painful memories is being in a room full of ministers for training, and having one of the teachers look directly at me and tell me, “You have no business being in this room.  You are too young, and as a woman the only ministry you should be doing is ministry involving people your children’s age.”  I can still feel the anger well in me at the memory of this.   At that moment  I knew without a doubt: This invitation was from God and  saying “yes” to this was going to require putting aside pride and picking up a heavy dose of trust.  

I wanted to give up more times than I care to count.  Jesus never stopped inviting me, though.  He kept nudging me on and affirming my next steps.  He brought mentors in my life and people who did believe in me and my call. Through the Holy Spirit he inspired words to write and to share with others via a blog and eventually a book, and then another book.  I recently told my long time writing mentor that I am finally ready to call myself a writer.  He immediately laughed and said, “It only took you eleven years.”  

Accepting this invitation to empower other voices means letting go of old voices and tapes that run in my head.  I have to put down the “nets” that often make me doubt my voice.  I am being invited to the scarcity mentality that is often favored in our world today that focuses on “it’s about me” and how can I get ahead.   I seek to embrace instead the spirit of abundance that trusts there is more than enough time, space, and seats at the table.  

Stepping Forward to Follow:

The call from Jesus to follow him ultimately leads to our “yes” through concrete steps forward on the path he is illuminating for us.  For me, this looks like widening the seats at the table of ministry.  Instead of only focusing on the ministry I am called to, my gaze is shifting to also asking, “How am I inviting others into the ministry of writing, of spiritual direction, and of retreat facilitation?” It is why my ministry team is expanding and there is a growing team of Into the Deep writers.  I am stepping into the role of training spiritual directors and mentoring people in retreat ministry.  All of these things are inviting women to use their gifts toward a mission greater than ourselves. 

As Pope Francis reminds us in Evangelli Guadium, “Joy is a sure sign that the Gospel is bearing fruit.”   Jesus is letting me know these are my next right steps by the tremendous joy and peace that wells up within me as I watch others embrace their gifts and shine their light in the world.  

Over the next several weeks the team of Into the Deep writers will share a variety of ways they live out their call to discipleship.  I look forward to reading about their journeys to say “yes” and the ways the Gospel bears fruit through their unique way to follow Jesus.  

Photo by Yue Su on Unsplash

 

Love Like God

November 20, 2020 marked the one-year anniversary of my Dad’s unexpected death following complications from a routine surgery. On the eve of this first anniversary my mind started to drift back to the forty-eight or so hours leading up to his death. Oh, how I wish I could see him just one more time! One more hug. One more I love you. I am grateful, though, he is not having to experience the realities of COVID-19 as his extroverted personality and stubborn Sicilian temper would have had a very difficult time following the social distancing rules and mask mandates.

The first year of grieving my Dad’s death has also become the year of grieving for many others, too. It has become the year of COVID, the year that racial injustices are finally being acknowledged, the year of so many hurricanes, wildfires, and a derecho. An election year and a year of teaching around our kitchen table. A year of scandal in my own Archdiocese and in other parts of our country. A year where our sense of comfort, our sense of routine, has been ripped away. A year full of insecurities and vulnerabilities. A year filled with so many varying emotions I do not know if I even have the words to describe them all.

In a year of so much heartache and so much loss, there is one thing that has remained constant. The love God has for us. Even through the brokenness, through the pain and suffering this year may have brought into our lives, God still loves us.

When a memory of my Dad fills my mind and grief consumes my entire body, God feels my heartache. When Breonna Taylor or Elijah McClain’s mothers’ hearts break from the bone-deep sorrow of missing their child, God feels their sadness. When someone’s grandfather, mother, spouse, friend, or child lies in the hospital alone, dying of COVID, God feels their pain and loneliness. When a toddler cries out for his mother, but his mother cannot be found, God feels his heartache and confusion. When we are sad or overwhelmed or just plain angry God feels it, too. Even through all the pain and suffering our world is feeling God is right there with us because God loves us so so deeply.

On this final day of this year like no other, I challenge you to the same New Year’s resolution I have set for myself. More difficult than vowing to eat better and exercise more often. Harder than reading more books and watching less Netflix or Amazon Prime. I challenge us all to love like God. This sounds so simple but loving like God means showing God’s love in the good times and the bad. Loving like God means loving through the heartache, through the brokenness, through the differing political opinions. It means loving through the insecurities and loving on the days when we feel like we have nothing left to give. Loving like God means loving through the hurt feelings and cross words we may have said or had said to us. While this may be a challenge, we can do this. We can love through the suffering and brokenness because God loved us first.

In the moments that we may fail to love like God let us ask for forgiveness and remember that one moment does not define us. Through God’s great love we continue to be formed. We can continue to challenge ourselves to love like God.  

The season of Advent let us prepare our homes and our hearts for Jesus’ birth. Each week we added more light to the darkness of 2020 by lighting the next candle on our Advent wreaths. Then, in God’s greatest act of love, God gave us the source of all hope, the light of our world, Jesus.

My prayer for you on this final day of 2020 is that while this may have been a year filled with brokenness and sorrow, that you always remember how deeply you are loved by God. Even through our faults, even through our missteps, God loves us. I pray that you believe so deeply in God’s love for you that it fills your heart with peace, comfort, and joy as we welcome a new year with new opportunities to love like God.  

Go Deeper:

If you are having a difficult time naming what you are feeling, check out the Sense Making handout.
Learn more about Learning to Love Like God from the 4th week of the Spiritual Exercises.
Read more on Ignatian discernment wisdom here. 

Photo by Jon Tyson on Unsplash

 

Love Like God: Considering Our Gifts for 2021*

*Yes, we ARE finally entering a new year!

In the crisp winter air with the warm sun shining down on us, we celebrated Mass outside. We were standing outside, some of us in the grass and some in the rich dark mud of South Louisiana. In an instant all was calm and bright. The clutter and chaos of 2020 melted away. Yes, we were socially distanced. Yes, we were masked. But, grace broke through the abnormal patterns of 2020. Grace always breaks through! Even though these times are abnormal, we, as creatures created by the gentle, intimate, and loving God, remain richly gifted. We are gifted even when our world or our circumstances are frustrating or overwhelming. 

We remain creatures of God, our Creator.

It has been a long, muddy, and messy year. So many of us have been plagued with difficult times as a result of our Covid-19 pandemic. Some have felt health woes while others have felt financial woes. Some of us have felt the compounding of both or added difficult experiences this year. Many of us feel stuck in this muddy place. 

When someone is stuck in the mud, the mud forms around your feet and it is difficult to gain traction to move. It feels as though you are doing lots of work, but are going nowhere. Over and over again, we have felt like we are stuck in the mud and highly unproductive. As co-creators with God, we flourish in times when we meet God’s creation in us and feel productive and useful as contributors. When our gifts and creativity live loudly in the world, we are assured of our own worth.

 Often, when we feel unproductive, or feel as though our gifts are not a felt contribution to the world, we become restless, unsettled, and detached. As a mother of two school aged children I have felt the frustration of watching my kids stuck emotionally, academically, and spiritually in response to Covid-19 restraints. As a daughter, I have shed tears in the distance between me and my mother. As a friend, I have struggled watching my friends tend to big moments of sickness in their families. I have felt stuck in the mud!

I might even call my experience desolation. St. Ignatius describes desolation as those moments when we turn away from God and the good, turn into ourselves, cut ourselves off from our community, or feel depleted . One wise Dominican Sister said to me recently, “Who in the world today doesn’t feel a little desolate in 2020?” In this muddy space the desolation feels strong. As we approach the new year, how can we remind ourselves that we are gifted creations?

We can ask ourselves, what is God inviting us to do with this muddy place? Could God be inviting us to consider how our gifts might be used again in our current world? We remain creatures of God, the Creator, even among the mess. Our gifts and talents have not changed. Is God inviting us to find new traction as co-creators? Or, is God inviting us to wait? Or, is God inviting us to reimagine the use of our gifts?

I invite you into two Ignatian prayer practices: The Prayer of Consideration and the Discernment of Gifts.

Prayer of Consideration . 

Consider the beauty of this muddy place. 
Consider the beauty of mud. 
In this muddy place, what do you notice? 
What does your world look like right now? 
Consider the people and situations in which God has placed you. 
Consider what gives you joy, peace, and hope.
Consider what gives you restlessness, agitation, and hopelessness.  
Consider your gifts and your creation. 
How is God inviting you into our world right now? 
Take some quiet and set aside time to do this prayer. 
Journal your thoughts and lean into 2021.

Discernment of Gifts

Consider reassessing your gifts. 
How are you uniquely created? 
How are you uniquely gifted? 
How is God continuing to make you now? 
What is God calling you to NOW?

As we approach the end of the year, let us consider our concrete circumstances. In such a troubling year, 2020 has proven to be an extraordinary circumstance. Let us consider how God has uniquely made us for this time and this place. Let us consider how we have all been uniquely formed for this time as we are called forth to 2021!

 

 

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

 

Advent: Love Like God: Considering Our Gifts for 2021*

*Yes, we ARE finally entering a new year!

In the crisp winter air with the warm sun shining down on us, we celebrated Mass outside. We were standing outside, some of us in the grass and some in the rich dark mud of South Louisiana. In an instant all was calm and bright. The clutter and chaos of 2020 melted away. Yes, we were socially distanced. Yes, we were masked. But, grace broke through the abnormal patterns of 2020. Grace always breaks through! Even though these times are abnormal, we, as creatures created by the gentle, intimate, and loving God, remain richly gifted. We are gifted even when our world or our circumstances are frustrating or overwhelming. 

We remain creatures of God, our Creator.

It has been a long, muddy, and messy year. So many of us have been plagued with difficult times as a result of our Covid-19 pandemic. Some have felt health woes while others have felt financial woes. Some of us have felt the compounding of both or added difficult experiences this year. Many of us feel stuck in this muddy place. 

When someone is stuck in the mud, the mud forms around your feet and it is difficult to gain traction to move. It feels as though you are doing lots of work, but are going nowhere. Over and over again, we have felt like we are stuck in the mud and highly unproductive. As co-creators with God, we flourish in times when we meet God’s creation in us and feel productive and useful as contributors. When our gifts and creativity live loudly in the world, we are assured of our own worth.

 Often, when we feel unproductive, or feel as though our gifts are not a felt contribution to the world, we become restless, unsettled, and detached. As a mother of two school aged children I have felt the frustration of watching my kids stuck emotionally, academically, and spiritually in response to Covid-19 restraints. As a daughter, I have shed tears in the distance between me and my mother. As a friend, I have struggled watching my friends tend to big moments of sickness in their families. I have felt stuck in the mud!

I might even call my experience desolation. St. Ignatius describes desolation as those moments when we turn away from God and the good, turn into ourselves, cut ourselves off from our community, or feel depleted . One wise Dominican Sister said to me recently, “Who in the world today doesn’t feel a little desolate in 2020?” In this muddy space the desolation feels strong. As we approach the new year, how can we remind ourselves that we are gifted creations?

We can ask ourselves, what is God inviting us to do with this muddy place? Could God be inviting us to consider how our gifts might be used again in our current world? We remain creatures of God, the Creator, even among the mess. Our gifts and talents have not changed. Is God inviting us to find new traction as co-creators? Or, is God inviting us to wait? Or, is God inviting us to reimagine the use of our gifts?

I invite you into two Ignatian prayer practices: The Prayer of Consideration and the Discernment of Gifts.

Prayer of Consideration . 

Consider the beauty of this muddy place. 
Consider the beauty of mud. 
In this muddy place, what do you notice? 
What does your world look like right now? 
Consider the people and situations in which God has placed you. 
Consider what gives you joy, peace, and hope.
Consider what gives you restlessness, agitation, and hopelessness.  
Consider your gifts and your creation. 
How is God inviting you into our world right now? 
Take some quiet and set aside time to do this prayer. 
Journal your thoughts and lean into 2021.

Discernment of Gifts

Consider reassessing your gifts. 
How are you uniquely created? 
How are you uniquely gifted? 
How is God continuing to make you now? 
What is God calling you to NOW?

As we approach the end of the year, let us consider our concrete circumstances. In such a troubling year, 2020 has proven to be an extraordinary circumstance. Let us consider how God has uniquely made us for this time and this place. Let us consider how we have all been uniquely formed for this time as we are called forth to 2021!

 

 

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

 

Advent: Love Like God: The Magi, Eyes That See

Jesus said to his disciples:

Blessed are the eyes that see what you see. For I say to you, many prophets and kings desired to see what you see, but did not see it, and to hear what you hear, but did not hear it (Lk 10:23-24).

Jesus is speaking of prophets and kings of earlier generations but Scripture tells a story of “wise men” who were blessed with “eyes that see.” What can we learn from them?

We know the story of the magi, sort of. They were wise men from the east and they followed a star, stopping first to consult the local authority, King Herod, to gather more information. As Allen Ross says in his analysis of the story: 

“magi” were men of the “priestly caste…famous for their learning and their wisdom…they carefully observed stars and planets…anything out of the ordinary would be taken as some kind of an omen.” 

They must have taken great pains to research this extraordinary star. Perhaps they learned of the messianic prophecy of Israel which caused them to seek out the most important person of Israel, the king, to give them direction. 

This might explain the course of events that brought the magi first to Jerusalem and then to Bethlehem, but it doesn’t reveal the significance of their actions. It doesn’t take into account what stirred in them to take a journey of at least one hundred miles (assuming that “from the east” means Mesopotamia). These magi possessed more than knowledge of the stars, they had “eyes that see.” 

There is more to the story than first meets the eye. There is a double meaning here, the magi were known for their wisdom of astronomy, but in the case of the messiah, it was wisdom born of humility that led them to the incarnate God.

The magi followed a sign that they saw, but it was faith that moved them toward the birthplace of Jesus. With faith they traveled many miles along dusty roads. Can you see them? Moving by night when the star was visible to them? Stopping to rest and nourish themselves and their animals in the heat of the day? 

Wisdom implies that they journeyed using careful calculations and good judgment. Wisdom suggests that they collaborated and consulted with one another along the way. Wisdom imbued with faith, however, is what they had, and it is different from worldly wisdom. Faith is the response of the heart. Faith takes into account what cannot be seen. Faith motivated the magi to endure a difficult journey. Yes, they followed a star, little did they know that they were also following God.

Yet, the magi exhibit faith along with wisdom and humility when they arrive at their destination. We see their humility as they react:

On entering the house they saw the child with Mary his mother. They prostrated themselves and did him homage. Then they opened their treasures and offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh (Mt 2:11).

They worshipped. These wise men from the east, astronomers, not scripture scholars, not Israelites, prostrated themselves and paid homage to the child, accepting him as their king! A star led them to him, but their hearts knew him. 

We do not know how long the magi stayed with the holy family, but we do know that they remained attentive to God – heeding a dream to avoid King Herod as they departed Bethlehem. The amount of time that they spent with Jesus is not the point, their response to him is. It is the same for us. 

I often long for magi wisdom and humility. There are times when my prayer is simply an appeal for wisdom. I find myself saying, “I don’t know what to do, Lord. Please help me.” Other times, while praying the daily Examen, I become painfully aware of some fault or failure of mine. Discovering a failure is a mixed blessing: noticing it allows me to ask for forgiveness and God’s grace to correct the failure and recognizing it helps me to grow in humility. It makes me aware of how much I need God’s grace in order to approach others in a kinder, gentler way.

As you await the Christ child, can you imagine the journey that you might travel to him? Might you journey past the dirty dishes, the laundry, and your to-do list to follow the star that leads to Christ? The journey will be fraught with the danger of interruptions from your electronic devices and distracted thoughts but perhaps you can persevere and arrive at a quiet destination where you look upon Jesus. Relax. Speak to him. Does he already know what gift you need? Maybe he wants to surprise you with something unexpected! Tell him about the gifts that you bring to him – your desire for a relationship with him; your trust in him; your efforts to use the talents that he has given you; your desire to please him. And ask Jesus for the gift that he desires to give you. 

Blessed are the eyes that see what you see.

 

Go Deeper:

Prayerfully reflect on Journey of the Magi by T.S. Eliot

Photo by Gerd Altman on Pixabay

Advent: Love Like God: Then the Shepherds Returned

Every year as Christmas stories are retold, I’m drawn to the nativity, deepening themes that surfaced before.  Preparing for this Into the Deep contribution, I returned to Luke’s gospel (2:1-20) for a bit of lectio divina.

Then the shepherds returned…  stopped me in my prayer-tracks.  This year Jesus wanted to show me something new.  I backed up a couple verses:  all who heard their message that this child was the messiah were amazed… Then the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, just as it had been told to them.   Who did the shepherds tell? When?  I moved on in prayer to an Ignatian contemplation.  In my imagination this story came to life:

The night sky was clear.  Five raggedy young shepherds huddled around a low fire, half-listening to each other, half-listening to their drowsy flock bleat and sigh.  Ora was telling star stories, learned from the old Greek woman who taught her sheep-keeping.  As boys will do, Caleb and Zev delighted in disrupting, pointing out faces of local characters. Before Aliza decided whether to get silly with them or go all-girls with Ora and Tikva, flames stirred, revealing a shimmering body.  Before astonished eyes, a man (or woman, they could never agree after) shifted between childlike and elderly.  The stranger settled on something in between, greeting them with open arms, “Don’t be afraid.  I’m a messenger with good news!”

“Stay right where you are,” shouted Tikva, leaping to her feet and grabbing her staff, ready to swing if necessary.  The dogs growled, but stayed at her signal.

“I’m not going to harm you!  I’ve been sent to tell you that tonight, very near Bethlehem, the messiah is born!  You’ll find the baby on the outskirts of town lying in a manger.”   Eyes blazing, she (or he) was joined by a multitude of light-beings dancing among the stars, singing of peace, and praising God’s glory.  The shepherds open their mouths as one, inhaling sight and song into their souls. Darkness returned, but celestial excitement swirled.   ( The rest of the story …)

Like light strengthening slowly at dawn, as I reviewed the movements of my prayer, I became aware of shifting emotions from apprehension to relief to joy and gratitude.  Shepherds acted on the angel’s message with faith and hope, racing to look for confirmation, joy-filled to discover signs just as described.  Mary and Joseph stepped out in trust to have the child, making a life together because of angel visits and dreams, relieved and grateful when the shepherds arrived.

God knows we need signs of encouragement, especially during long winter nights that seem darker than usual.  I invite you to recall a time when you received good news or confirmation of a big decision this year, then share that story with another.  We never know when our reaching out will be a welcome affirmation of someone else’s “yes” to God.  In a card or over the phone, online or in person, how might you encourage someone this Christmas?

 

 

Going Deeper:

Take a five minutes to set the mood for praying with the scripture or shepherds’ story by listening to Stars by Ēriks Ešenvalds based on a poem by Sara Teasdale.  The piece’s ethereal beauty always quiets and expands my heart with grateful awe.  Reflect on comments from the vocal artists of Cantus.
Read the O Antiphons or sing the Advent carol, O Come, O Come, Emmanuel.  Pause on verse five, the antiphon for December 21st, “O Radiant Dawn, splendor of eternal light, sun of justice:  come and shine on those who dwell in darkness and in the shadow of death.”  Pray for the grace to see and share God’s eternal light.
Learn about Georges Lemaître, S.J, a Jesuit priest-astronomer contemplating the heavens around the same time as poet Teasdale composed “Stars”.  Fr. Lemaître developed a scientific theory on the origins of the universe prior to Edwin Hubble and his “Big Bang Theory”.

Photo by Kyle Gregory Devaras on Unsplash

 

Advent: Love Like God: A Reflection on the Innkeeper

Oh what now?  Who could be knocking on my door at this time of night?

There is truly no rest for the weary, I thought.  I’ve had a long, hard day, preparing and renting my rooms to those who are traveling for the census.  I remember how glad I was to rent the last available room in my inn that day.  I’m grateful for the business, but it has certainly worn me out.  All I wanted was to go to my own room and sleep.  But now I hear knocking.  Maybe I’ll just ignore them.  Maybe they’ll go away.  I know there are other inns on the way, let them stay at one of those.  (Although I heard that all the nearby inns are also full .)  Well, whoever this is should have thought about the census rush and how places to stay would be at a premium.  It’s certainly not my problem.  I’ll just roll over in my bed and go to sleep, I thought. 

But I couldn’t go to sleep. Not while I still heard the knocking at my door.  I’ve got to turn these people away or I’ll never get any rest.  Yes, I’ll tell them there’s no room and I’ll send them on their way…

I opened the door to see a man and a young woman about to give birth.   This couple was not like the others staying at my inn.  They looked rather poor, no servants were with them.  They had no caravan of animals carrying their extra clothing or possessions. They looked so tired, weary from traveling.  I could see that they had a rough journey in many ways.  But in spite of this, the couple seemed to radiate a peacefulness, joy, and hope.

Before I could send them away they both smiled at me.  The man said his name was Joseph, of the tribe of David, and offered me a blessing from the God of Abraham. He asked if he and his betrothed (her name was Mary) could stay for the night.  He explained that they had been to several other inns but were turned away for lack of rooms.  Joseph said that all they needed was a place to rest for the night and water for their animal.  I looked at them and tried to say the words that would make them leave and bring me back to my bed, but I couldn’t do it.  They seemed so trusting, so dedicated to each other.  They really could use a break, I thought, but I couldn’t help them, I had no rooms available. 

But I kept noticing a determination in Joseph, a fidelity to his God and a responsibility to his betrothed.  There was a humility about them both, a deep sense of trust that I could actually feel. Mary reminded me of my own daughter – young, gentle, and right now very vulnerable.  Before I knew what I was saying, I apologized for not having a room for them, and I offered them all I had – the stable.  Would they accept that?  It wasn’t the best accommodation.  It was full of animals belonging to the other travelers.  There was nowhere for them to sleep except on the hay.  But it was protection from the cold night, and they could hopefully rest safely.  To my surprise, they agreed to stay there.  And what further surprised me was the extent of their gratitude.  It was as if I had offered them my own room!  And they thanked God for me providing this place for them.  In all my years as an innkeeper, none of my guests has ever thanked God for me!  There was definitely something special about them, and the more we talked, the more my heart was touched by their love of God and each other.

My heart was so touched that I forgot how tired I was.  I offered to help them settle in for the night.  Joseph and I cleared a warm spot in the stable and put down fresh straw.  I brought in a few pieces of cloth to use for cover and an extra lamp for warmth.  I wanted to minister to this couple in a way that I had never wanted to with any other guests.  It was as if my heart was being transformed just by being with them.  After they were settled, we even prayed together!  (Between you and me, I think she’s going to have that baby tonight in the stable.) 

I went back to bed that night feeling grateful for the chance to be of service to them.  I went to sleep surrounded by a feeling of peace, joy, and hope.

 

Go Deeper:

Pray with the scripture: Luke 2: 1-7
The Innkeeper’s heart was opened by the light of God shining through Joseph’s and Mary’s hearts.  No longer filled with his own desire to be left alone, the Innkeeper was able to make room for Jesus.  Ask God to empty your heart of what keeps you from making room for Jesus there.
Pray the prayer, “Jesus, Ready My Heart” from Becky’s We are Not Alone Online: An Online Advent Retreat.
Who in your life needs ministering to?  What can you do to help him/her/them?
Pray for those who are fleeing their homes due to persecution or fear, who are seeking a better life for themselves and their families.

 

Photo by Marco Antonin-Reyes on Pixabay