Through Our Goodbyes, God Abides

Throughout summer I wrestled with a major decision about work and life. In the first days of August, I had to make my decision final. My choices were (1) stay at Our Lady of the Valley, an intimately familiar place I love with people I know and a growing mission to minister to teens and families, or (2) move to the Baltimore area to work as the youth minister at Church of the Nativity, a parish I admire and use as an example in my ministry.

I decided this week that God's gentle promptings are leading me to Church of the Nativity. I am mostly packed and ready, and I have a one-way plane ticket for next Friday, August 18. This will be sudden for many of you, and I apologize that I didn't announce things sooner. It's a been long and difficult struggle.

Let me explain how I arrived at my decision.

Originally, I found out about the youth ministry position at Nativity the day after Easter. This happened to be the day after I finished a 90-day journey of prayer, fasting, and spiritual practices with a small group of men at the parish. I don't believe the timing was a coincidence. I didn't know it, but this intense prayer experience prepared me for what was to come.

Somewhat on a whim, I submitted my resume and cover letter for the job, but I didn't apply thinking I would be a viable candidate. I applied to research their process because I knew we would be hiring a new youth minister in the coming weeks as I planned to transition into a new position at OLV. As I mentioned, I admired Nativity and thought I could learn from their process so we could improve ours. Plus, the position had been vacant since October. I figured they hired someone or were close to it.

Even though I was late in applying, Nativity did not find the right fit for their organization in the original pool of applicants. I had two interviews in May with the consulting company they used to filter the applicants, and they thought I might be a fit, so they gave my application to Nativity. We went back and forth until we found a date they could fly me to Baltimore for an in-person interview. During this time I felt guilty. I didn't really want to make a big change. I wanted to be at OLV. I felt like I was betraying the people I was serving. Besides, I was convicted that I should be at OLV as our new pastor arrived and that I would lead Family Ministry through the next steps of growth. Yet God continued to open possibilities at Nativity even as I was unsure.

Meanwhile, I began a consecration to Mary shared by the same group of men at the parish that completed the 90-day challenge. We used the book 33 Days to Morning Glory. This was another journey into prayer as I reflected on what God wanted for me and what I wanted to do next. Mary was with me on the journey. She encouraged me, reminded me that there is often pain in walking with Christ, that faith takes sacrifice, that joy is not found in pleasure but in choosing the Father's loving will.

Eventually I flew to Baltimore. I met the staff at Nativity. I answered questions. I was impressed by their care for each other and shared commitment to their mission. They are making disciples for Christ and the Church.

Two days after I returned from my interview they offered me the job. I talked to trusted people, prayed and prayed and prayed, struggling again to find God's peace and purpose. The timing seemed unfair. Our Lady of the Valley was changing pastors at the end of June. I was sure when Fr. Flores told us he was being transferred that I would be around for the transition to provide continuity and welcome the new pastor into his role. I didn't go seeking a new job. I felt horribly torn between an incredible opportunity that somehow found me and continuing with the people, mission, and parish I loved.

I also had to consider leaving my family, my friends, and my support system in Boise. Even giving up indoor soccer seemed like a big sacrifice.

So after reflecting for a few days, I initially told Nativity no, I would not be joining their team. I was going to stay at OLV.

But God kept gently nudging me. I went through remorse. Would I regret letting this opportunity pass? I couldn't seem to wrap my head around how quickly this decision developed. I wasn't even searching for it! It seemed to find me even though I am the one who submitted my application, who took the interviews, who kept going in the process.

I went through the motions of work in June. We had Junior High Camp. I continued to struggle with what to do. I prayed by myself. I prayed with my spiritual director. I prayed for healing with a couple who have been wonderful to me. I prayed with my family.

At the end of June, I sent Nativity an email I had crafted a couple weeks before and let sit in my drafts folder unsure if I should send it. The email said that even with my reservations, I felt God asking me to be open to this opportunity, so I was ready if they still wanted me. They said yes, they still wanted me.

You would think that might be the end of the ordeal, but throughout July and the beginning of August, I felt little but dread. Dread of leaving, dread of goodbyes, dread of what would happen to OLV after I left, dread of all the arrangements involved in a cross-country move, dread of missing out on family life, dread of leaving the relationships that give meaning to my life.

I was moody and preoccupied most of the last month. I put off doing the things I should have been doing, and procrastination is not normal for me. Nativity grew frustrated at my unresponsiveness. Very few at OLV knew about my discernment because I wasn't sure if it was going to happen. I asked God why these choices are so difficult for me. Significant transitions and life choices weigh deeply on me. They always have. They probably always will.

Starting on July 25, I prayed a novena to my guardian angel asking to better understand my emotions so I could find peace, purpose, and a final decision. I also asked that if God wanted me to stay at Our Lady of the Valley and wanted to reveal it to me at this time, someone would give me an image of Our Lady sometime during the nine days. The nine days passed slowly as I hoped beyond hope for that image of Mary. The image of Mary would give me permission to stay comfortable in my current role with the people and support I already know.

On the ninth day, we had a staff meeting. Our new pastor Fr. Rob set on the table an 8-inch statue of Mary holding the infant Jesus. The meeting went as usual. We read and reflected on Sunday's gospel, calendared, gave our reports, and prayed together. He didn't say anything about the statue. He didn't give it to me. Mary was just there, a somewhat foggy sign from God.

I even asked Fr. Rob about the statue. "I liked that statue of Mary you had at the staff meeting," I told him later in the day. Not knowing about my novena or request for an image of Our Mother (no one did), Fr. Rob didn't take the bait. He just said it was a beautiful piece of German craftsmanship and that we wanted to include Mary in much more of our parish planning and vision casting.

What was I to do? As I drove home from work that afternoon, I knew the statue wasn't substantial enough for me to base a significant decision on it. It was, however, another gentle nudge from God. The statue told me the possibility of OLV still existed, but I had to make the choice. No one was going to make the decision for me. God was not going to override my free will.

On Monday, I talked to Fr. Rob and told him I was still struggling and perhaps wanting to stay at OLV. He said we should pray about it and talk in a day or two.

On Tuesday, I talked to Nativity, and though they were frustrated with my indecisiveness, they still thought God was calling me there.

I spent one last night talking about the decision with my parents, weighing everything I'd said and heard the last three months, praying, reflecting, reading my journals, agonizing, and seeking the Lord.

On Wednesday morning, I called Fr. Rob. He gave me perhaps the last bit of permission I needed to let go at OLV and take the leap. I called Nativity.

"I'm coming," I told them.

Although this announcement is sudden, it's been a continuous struggle for me the last three months. My heart is divided. I love Our Lady of the Valley. I love the people. I love the challenge and fulfillment of the work. I wish I could stay, and I will miss everyone immensely.

Yet I go back to the example of Jesus. He poured himself out to his disciples for three years of public ministry (the same amount of time I've been at OLV), and when the time came for him to carry his cross, depart this life,  redeem humanity, and join His Father in Heaven, Jesus went where the Spirit led Him, not counting the cost. He entrusted the Church to us, a flawed, frail, fallen but redeemed bunch of humans. Here we are 2000 years later, still flawed, still frail, and still fallen but doing our best to follow Christ's lead all the way to Heaven.

I treasure the time I spent at OLV. I will remember everything we experienced together with fondness, as I hope our team does as well. Yet I cannot covet these wonderful parts of my life. They are not my own. They are the Lord's, as is my life, as is yours. I cannot hold onto these things if God calls me to put out into the deep.

As I go, I am so grateful to each person who was a part of my three years at Our Lady of the Valley and in the Treasure Valley. I am sorry if I miss saying goodbye. It's an unfortunate consequence of my indecision that time is so short. Each of you played an unrepeatable role in my life, and I trust fully that God knows what is happening at OLV, at Nativity, in your life, in our Church, and in our world. Lean into the Lord. He will never, ever love you more or less than He does now. His love is endless and relentless. He will be present in the Eucharist. He will heal you in Confession. He will abide when times are dark. He will rejoice when our joy is full. He will wait for us to join Him in eternity, and He will call us to an incredible, heroic earthly life if we come back again and again to sit at His feet.

Though distance may separate us, we continue on the same journey together. That journey is to Heaven. I'm so glad to be part of your journey here on earth and for you to be part of mine, but we can't lose sight of our ultimate destination as we make stops along the way. Let's pray together in thanksgiving for our time together and in anticipation of sharing eternity with the one who is Love.

Viva Cristo Rey,

Daniel

Have Smartphones Destroyed a Generation?

From The Atlantic, By Jene M. Twenge

Click here to view in its original form

More comfortable online than out partying, post-Millennials are safer, physically, than adolescents have ever been. But they’re on the brink of a mental-health crisis.

One day last summer, around noon, I called Athena, a 13-year-old who lives in Houston, Texas. She answered her phone—she’s had an iPhone since she was 11—sounding as if she’d just woken up. We chatted about her favorite songs and TV shows, and I asked her what she likes to do with her friends. “We go to the mall,” she said. “Do your parents drop you off?,” I asked, recalling my own middle-school days, in the 1980s, when I’d enjoy a few parent-free hours shopping with my friends. “No—I go with my family,” she replied. “We’ll go with my mom and brothers and walk a little behind them. I just have to tell my mom where we’re going. I have to check in every hour or every 30 minutes.”

Those mall trips are infrequent—about once a month. More often, Athena and her friends spend time together on their phones, unchaperoned. Unlike the teens of my generation, who might have spent an evening tying up the family landline with gossip, they talk on Snapchat, the smartphone app that allows users to send pictures and videos that quickly disappear. They make sure to keep up their Snapstreaks, which show how many days in a row they have Snapchatted with each other. Sometimes they save screenshots of particularly ridiculous pictures of friends. “It’s good blackmail,” Athena said. (Because she’s a minor, I’m not using her real name.) She told me she’d spent most of the summer hanging out alone in her room with her phone. That’s just the way her generation is, she said. “We didn’t have a choice to know any life without iPads or iPhones. I think we like our phones more than we like actual people.”

I’ve been researching generational differences for 25 years, starting when I was a 22-year-old doctoral student in psychology. Typically, the characteristics that come to define a generation appear gradually, and along a continuum. Beliefs and behaviors that were already rising simply continue to do so. Millennials, for instance, are a highly individualistic generation, but individualism had been increasing since the Baby Boomers turned on, tuned in, and dropped out. I had grown accustomed to line graphs of trends that looked like modest hills and valleys. Then I began studying Athena’s generation.

Around 2012, I noticed abrupt shifts in teen behaviors and emotional states. The gentle slopes of the line graphs became steep mountains and sheer cliffs, and many of the distinctive characteristics of the Millennial generation began to disappear. In all my analyses of generational data—some reaching back to the 1930s—I had never seen anything like it.

At first I presumed these might be blips, but the trends persisted, across several years and a series of national surveys. The changes weren’t just in degree, but in kind. The biggest difference between the Millennials and their predecessors was in how they viewed the world; teens today differ from the Millennials not just in their views but in how they spend their time. The experiences they have every day are radically different from those of the generation that came of age just a few years before them.

What happened in 2012 to cause such dramatic shifts in behavior? It was after the Great Recession, which officially lasted from 2007 to 2009 and had a starker effect on Millennials trying to find a place in a sputtering economy. But it was exactly the moment when the proportion of Americans who owned a smartphone surpassed 50 percent.

Click here to continue reading.

Four Keys to Discerning God's Will

Mother Teresa's Words to the Sisters of Charity...and to Us

Jesus wants me to tell you again...how much love He has for each one of you—beyond all you can imagine. I worry some of you still have not really met Jesus—one to one—you and Jesus alone. We may spend time in chapel—but have you seen with the eyes of your soul how He looks at you with love? Do you really know the living Jesus—not from books but from being with Him in your heart? Have you heard the loving words He speaks to you? Ask for the grace, He is longing to give it. Until you can hear Jesus in the silence of your own heart, you will not be able to hear Him saying “I thirst” in the hearts of the poor. Never give up this daily intimate contact with Jesus as the real living person—not just the idea. How can we last even one day without hearing Jesus say “I love you”—impossible.

Our soul needs that as much as the body needs to breathe the air. If not, prayer is dead—meditation-only thinking. Jesus wants you each to hear Him—speaking in the silence of your heart. Be careful of all that can block that personal contact with the living Jesus. The devil may try to use the hurts of life, and sometimes our own mistakes—to make you feel it is impossible that Jesus really loves you, is really cleaving to you. This is a danger for all of us. And so sad, because it is completely opposite of what Jesus is really wanting, waiting to tell you. Not only that He loves you, but even more—He longs for you. He misses you when you don’t come close.

He thirsts for you. He loves you always, even when you don’t feel worthy. When not accepted by others, even by yourself sometimes—He is the one who always accepts you. My children, you don’t have to be different for Jesus to love you.

Only believe—You are precious to Him. Bring all you are suffering to His feet—only open your heart to be loved by Him as your are. He will do the rest.

Don't We All

I was parked in front of the mall wiping off my car. I had just come from the car wash and was waiting for my wife to get out of work. Coming my way from across the parking lot was what society would consider a bum. From the looks of him, he had no car, no home, no clean clothes, and no money. There are times when you feel generous but there are other times that you just don't want to be bothered. This was one of those "don't want to be bothered times."

"I hope he doesn't ask me for any money," I thought.

He didn't.

He came and sat on the curb in front of the bus stop but he didn't look like he could have enough money to even ride the bus.

After a few minutes he spoke.

"That's a very pretty car," he said.

He was ragged but he had an air of dignity around him. His scraggly blond beard keep more than his face warm.

I said, "thanks," and continued wiping off my car.

He sat there quietly as I worked. The expected plea for money never came. As the silence between us widened something inside said, "ask him if he needs any help." I was sure that he would say "yes" but I held true to the inner voice.

"Do you need any help?" I asked.

He answered in three simple but profound words that I shall never forget. We often look for wisdom in great men and women. We expect it from those of higher learning and accomplishments. I expected nothing but an outstretched grimy hand. He spoke the three words that shook me.

"Don't we all?" he said.

I was feeling high and mighty, successful and important, above a bum in the street, until those three words hit me like a twelve gauge shotgun.

Don't we all?

I needed help. Maybe not for bus fare or a place to sleep, but I needed help. I reached in my wallet and gave him not only enough for bus fare, but enough to get a warm meal and shelter for the day. Those three little words still ring true. No matter how much you have, no matter how much you have accomplished, you need help too. No matter how little you have, no matter how loaded you are with problems, even without money or a place to sleep, you can give help. Even if it's just a compliment, you can give that.

You never know when you may see someone that appears to have it all. They are waiting on you to give them what they don't have. A different perspective on life, a glimpse at something beautiful, a respite from daily chaos, that only you through a torn world can see.

Maybe the man was just a homeless stranger wandering the streets. Maybe he was more than that. Maybe he was sent by a power that is great and wise, to minister to a soul too comfortable in themselves.

Maybe God looked down, called an Angel, dressed him like a bum, then said, "go minister to that man cleaning the car, that man needs help."

Don't we all?

-- Author Unknown

Ash Wednesday and Lent in 60 seconds

A Catholic Guide to Ashes

How do I love myself?

“Teacher, which commandment in the law is the greatest?” He said to him, “You shall love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind. This is the greatest and the first commandment. The second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” -Matthew 22:36-39

During this first week of Love Month, I realized that when I look at the greatest commandment, I often forget the last two words. I'm not just to love God and neighbor; I am to love myself.

How do I do love myself? It's not as easy as it sounds. You would think this would be easy. In one sense, I am more lenient with myself. I might think of myself as a good person. I go to church. I pray each night. I even go to Confession regularly. I take care of my physical needs by eating well, exercising, sleeping. I do things that stimulate my mind and build healthy relationships.

But are these things really loving myself?

How do I handle self doubt? Do I check my destructive behaviors? Am I practicing moderation and fasting so that I have self control and freedom to make healthy choices? Do I just fulfill my religious duty or am I in relationship with a God I can trust and love?

The difference in providing for myself and loving myself is a fine line, but it is distinct. Taking care of myself is one part, but feeding my soul is another. Jesus didn't specify how we are to love ourselves, and for each person it is different.

Some of the ways I love myself are to seek solitude, spirituality, and silence. These come in many forms.

Solitude can be getting up from my desk in the office so I can have a few minutes of quiet on the other side of the building. Solitude can be going on a run on my day off. Solitude can be foregoing plans with friends so I can have a day to myself for reading, cooking, napping, and doing laundry.

Spirituality can be reading a Christian book. Spirituality can be daily journaling. Spirituality can be praying through memories with a trusted friend.

Silence can be the nightly time reflecting on my day and sitting in the space I allot for God to speak. Silence can be quietly taking in a situation rather than responding emotionally. Silence can be turning off the radio and the noise during the car ride home.

I wish I were better at loving myself. Like most people, I struggle with many things about my physical appearance, my adequacy at work, my purpose in life, and my devotion to God's will. Like most people, I'm on a journey of self love.

What are the ways you love yourself? How well are you following the commandment of Jesus?

A Note to Good Fighters

Dear Good Fighters,

Between the long Christmas break and the snow causing us to cancel Family Ministry, I miss you. Like most of you, I've been stuck at home the last couple weeks. I've been trying to get everything ready for our upcoming meetings and ministry, but there's only so much I can do at home. At Mass today, Fr. Radmar preached at St. Paul's BSU about ENCOUNTER. He even had us turn to someone we didn't know, learn the person's name, and encounter the person for one minute. Our faith, our Church, and our God are all about the ENCOUNTER.

Even though you may be stuck at home, God wants to ENCOUNTER you today.

God wants a relationship with you. God wants to love you. God wants you to let him love you. We have so many broken relationships around us (including our relationship with ourselves), but our relationship with God is the one relationship that will never be broken. You are loved as you are, loved where you are going, and loved without condition.

This Sunday at Good Fighters our topic was going to be FOLLOW: How does God guide us into the full life? Even though we can't meet, I invite you to watch the Alpha video below. Think about it. Pray about it. Talk about it. Then, if you're serious about encountering God, journal about this question:

Let’s say God has a plan for your life. Imagine God is giving you a guidebook to SEEK, FIND, and FULFILL that plan. Based on what you know about God, your life experience, what we’ve covered at Good Fighters, your gifts and desires, and your purpose in life, write what you imagine God telling you in your personalized guidebook.

We will add to the Guidebooks in the coming weeks. God is speaking to us. God wants to encounter us. Are we listening? I hope so.

Trying to FOLLOW and ENCOUNTER God alongside you,

Daniel

Need a Confirmation Saint?

If you are an Igniter looking for a Confirmation saint, there's a two-minute quiz that matches you with a saint who shares your interests. It might not be a perfect patron, but it's a fun way to start your saint search. Thanks is due to ChurchPop.com for the Obscure Saint Quiz. Take it here.

Christmas Reflection: Jesus is Listening

Part XI:
Jesus is Listening

In this Christmas season of the Church, we ought to spend time rediscovering Jesus. Who is this God-man? What did he do? Why should we love him? Why is our Church founded and grounded in him? Look for a series of posts leading up to the Epiphany on January 6 that reawaken our love for Christ and the Church.

Jesus listens to what we say, but he also listens to what we don't say.

Christmas Reflection: This Changes Everything

Part X:
This Changes Everything

In this Christmas season of the Church, we ought to spend time rediscovering Jesus. Who is this God-man? What did he do? Why should we love him? Why is our Church founded and grounded in him? Look for a series of posts leading up to the Epiphany on January 6 that reawaken our love for Christ and the Church.

The covering of snow melts, seeps into the earth to water it, and gives life as it leads to spring and summer.

Christmas Reflection: Jesus is Alive

Part IX:
Jesus is Alive

In this Christmas season of the Church, we ought to spend time rediscovering Jesus. Who is this God-man? What did he do? Why should we love him? Why is our Church founded and grounded in him? Look for a series of posts leading up to the Epiphany on January 6 that reawaken our love for Christ and the Church.

Where do you need Jesus in your darkness?

Christmas Reflection: Here's What You've Been Waiting For

Part VII:
Here's What You've Been Waiting For

In this Christmas season of the Church, we ought to spend time rediscovering Jesus. Who is this God-man? What did he do? Why should we love him? Why is our Church founded and grounded in him? Look for a series of posts leading up to the Epiphany on January 6 that reawaken our love for Christ and the Church.

What is it in your heart that you're really longing for?

Christmas Reflection: What's Your Why?

Part VII:
What's Your Why?

In this Christmas season of the Church, we ought to spend time rediscovering Jesus. Who is this God-man? What did he do? Why should we love him? Why is our Church founded and grounded in him? Look for a series of posts leading up to the Epiphany on January 6 that reawaken our love for Christ and the Church.

When a person has a WHY, a person can do almost anything. What is Jesus' WHY? And what is his WHO?

Christmas Reflection: Jesus is Not Safe

Part VI:
Jesus is not safe.

In this Christmas season of the Church, we ought to spend time rediscovering Jesus. Who is this God-man? What did he do? Why should we love him? Why is our Church founded and grounded in him? Look for a series of posts leading up to the Epiphany on January 6 that reawaken our love for Christ and the Church.

Jesus doesn't allow us to stay in the same place, but constantly invites us to grow. How will you grow this new year?

Christmas Reflection: The Six Most "Un-Christlike" Things Christ Did

Part V
The Six Most "Un-Christlike" Things Christ Did

In this Christmas season of the Church, we ought to spend time rediscovering Jesus. Who is this God-man? What did he do? Why should we love him? Why is our Church founded and grounded in him? Look for a series of posts leading up to the Epiphany on January 6 that reawaken our love for Christ and the Church.

WWJD: What would Jesus do?

It’s a great question. Christians are of course supposed to follow the example of Christ.

There can be a problem, though, when the answers people give to the question are disconnected from Scripture. People can end up just taking whatever they would do and then claim Jesus probably would have done it, too. But the Jesus described in the New Testament does not fit well with many of our modern sensibilities.

Yes, Jesus taught love, mercy, and sacrifice. But these things, if viewed from a contemporary lens, can easily be reduced to a kind of hollow sentimentalism. The Jesus of the Gospels, on the other hand, was deeply serious – both about loving others, and about sin.

So here are 6 things Jesus did that many people today would probably brand as “unChrist-like.”

1) Called people names

You might just want to read all of chapter 23 in Matthew’s Gospel.

Jesus gives a long and detailed attack on the moral character of the Pharisees and the teachers of the law, and he pulls no punches. Among the names he calls them are “snakes,” “brood of vipers,” “hypocrites,” and “blind guides.” Ouch.

2) Offended people without apology

In Matthew chapter 15, some Pharisees and teachers of the law challenge Jesus about why he and his disciples don’t keep a certain tradition of the elders. In response, Jesus ignores their question, calls them hypocrites, and points out how they contradict the law of God with some of their traditions.

Then Jesus’ disciples come to him and say, “Do you know that the Pharisees were offended when they heard this?”

Jesus’ response? He offers no apology, no attempt at clarification, but continues his critique: “Every plant that my heavenly Father has not planted will be pulled up by the roots. Leave them; they are blind guides. If the blind lead the blind, both will fall into a pit.”

3) Warned against laughter

A lot of people have heard of the Beatitudes as they appear in Matthew chapter 5: “Blessed are the poor in spirit… blessed are those who mourn… blessed are the meek,” etc.

A similar set of blessings also appear in Luke chapter 6, except that they are also paired with corresponding warnings:

But woe to you who are rich, for you have already received your comfort.
Woe to you who are well fed now, for you will go hungry.
Woe to you who laugh now, for you will mourn and weep.
Woe to you when everyone speaks well of you, for that is how their ancestors treated the false prophets.

All four of these are challenging. But notice that the 3rd one is a warning against laughing. Imagine the headlines if Jesus had preached this today. He’s probably be branded as some sort of rigid, humorless archconservative.

4) Cleared the Temple with a whip

One of the times Jesus’ visited the Temple in Jerusalem, the Gospel of John says “he found people selling cattle, sheep and doves, and others sitting at tables exchanging money.” His response?

So he made a whip out of cords, and drove all from the temple courts, both sheep and cattle; he scattered the coins of the money changers and overturned their tables. To those who sold doves he said, “Get these out of here! Stop turning my Father’s house into a market!”

It’s easy to read over these words quickly without grasping their full import. He made a whip, and used it to at least drive the animals out of the Temple, and possibly the people as well (there’s ambiguity with the word “all”). He flipped tables and scattered people’s money around, while he was also driving them out.

This was not just some nice request.

5) Was intentionally opaque in his teaching

Jesus had so many memorable parables. He told them because stories are easier for common people to understand and remember, right?

Actually, it’s the opposite.

In Matthew chapter 13, Jesus is asked point-blank: “Why do you speak to the people in parables?” And here’s his answer: Because the knowledge of the secrets of the kingdom of heaven has been given to you, but not to them. Whoever has will be given more, and they will have an abundance. Whoever does not have, even what they have will be taken from them. This is why I speak to them in parables: “Though seeing, they do not see; though hearing, they do not hear or understand.”
In other words, it appears that Jesus taught in parables to make it hard for the average person to understand. He then revealed the meaning of his parables secretly to his close disciples.

6) Preached graphic depictions of hell

Everyone knows that “fire and brimstone” preaching is ineffective and, in any case, antithetical to the spirit of the Gospel of love, right?

Then why did Jesus preach about hell so much?

Jesus gave horrifying descriptions of the place. Throughout the Gospels we find that Jesus describes hell as a place of “weeping and gnashing of teeth,” a place where “the worms that eat them do not die, and the fire is not quenched,” a “blazing furnace,” “darkness,” “unquenchable fire,” and “the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels.” (Several of these descriptions he repeats several times.)

And he constantly warns people from doing things that would get them sent there. So maybe preaching about hell isn’t so bad?

Christmas Reflection: And They Crucified Him

Part IV:

And They Crucified Him

In this Christmas season of the Church, we ought to spend time rediscovering Jesus. Who is this God-man? What did he do? Why should we love him? Why is our Church founded and grounded in him? Look for a series of posts leading up to the Epiphany on January 6 that reawaken our love for Christ and the Church.

A medical doctor provides a physical description: The cross is placed on the ground and the exhausted man is quickly thrown backwards with his shoulders against the wood. The legionnaire feels for the depression at the front of the wrist. He drives a heavy, square wrought-iron nail through the wrist deep into the wood. Quickly he moves to the other side and repeats the action, being careful not to pull the arms too tightly, but to allow some flex and movement. The cross is then lifted into place. The left foot is pressed backward against the right foot, and with both feet extended, toes down, a nail is driven through the arch of each, leaving the knees flexed. The victim is now crucified.

As he slowly sags down with more weight on the nails in the wrists, excruciating fiery pain shoots along the fingers and up the arms to explode in the brain -- the nails in the wrists are putting pressure on the median nerves. As he pushes himself upward to avoid this stretching torment, he places the full weight on the nail through his feet. Again he feels the searing agony of the nail tearing through the nerves between the bones of his feet.

As the arms fatigue, cramps sweep through his muscles, knotting them deep relentless, and throbbing pain. With these cramps comes the inability to push himself upward to breathe. Air can be drawn into the lungs but not exhaled. He fights to raise himself in order to get even one small breath.

Finally, carbon dioxide builds up in the lungs and in the blood stream, and the cramps partially subsided. Spasmodically, he is able to push himself upward to exhale and bring in life-giving oxygen.

Hours of limitless pain, cycles of twisting, joint-renting cramps, intermittent partial asphyxiation, searing pain as tissue is torn from his lacerated back as he moves up and down against rough timber. Then another agony begins: a deep, crushing pain deep in the chest as the pericardium slowly fills with serum and begins to compress the heart.

It is now almost over. The loss of tissue fluids has reached a critical level. The compressed heart is struggling to pump heavy, thick, sluggish blood into the tissues. The tortured lungs are making frantic effort to gasp in small gulps of air. He can feel the chill of death creeping through his tissues.

Finally, he allows his body to die.

All this the Bible records with the simple words, "and they crucified Him" (Mark 15:24).

-- C. Truman Davis, M.D., M.S., Arizona Medicine, Vol. 22 No. 3 March 1965

Christmas Reflection: My Son's Sacrifice

Part III:
Prologue from Rediscover Catholicism by Matthew Kelly

In this Christmas season of the Church, we ought to spend time rediscovering Jesus. Who is this God-man? What did he do? Why should we love him? Why is our Church founded and grounded in him? Look for a series of posts leading up to the Epiphany on January 6 that reawaken our love for Christ and the Church.

Imagine this.

You’re driving home from work next Monday. You turn on the radio and you hear a brief report about a small village in India where some people have suddenly died, strangely, of a flu that has never been seen before. It’s not influenza, but 4 people are dead, so the CDC is sending some doctors to India to investigate.

You don’t think to much about it—people die every day—but coming home from church the following Sunday you hear another report on the radio, only now they say it’s not 4 people who have died, but 30,000 in the back hills of India. Whole villages have been wiped out and experts confirm this flu is a strain that has never been seen before.

By the time you get up Monday morning, it’s the lead story. The disease is spreading. IT’s not just India that is affected. Now it has spread to Pakistan, Afghanistan, Iran, Iraq, and northern Africa, but it still seems far away. Before you know it, you’re hearing about this story everywhere. The media have now coined it “the mystery flu.” The president had announced that he and his family are praying for the victims and their families, and are hoping for the situation to be resolved quickly. But everyone is wondering how we are ever going to contain it.

That’s when the President of France makes an announcement that shocks Europe: He is closing the French borders. No one can enter the country and that’s why that night you’re watching a little bit of CNN before going to bed. Your jaw hits your chest when a weeping woman’s word are translated into English from a French news program: There’s a man lying in a hospital in Paris dying of the mystery flu. It has come to Europe.

Panic strikes. As best they can tell, after contracting the disease, you have it for a week before you even know it, then you have 4 days of unbelievable symptoms, and then you die.

The British close their borders, but it’s too late. The disease breaks out in Southampton, Liverpool, and London, and on Tuesday morning the President of the US makes the following announcement: Due to a national-security risk, all flights to and from the US have been canceled. IF your loved ones are overseas, I’m sorry. They cannot come home until we find a cure for this horrific disease.

Within 4 days, America is plunged into an unbelievable fear. People are wondering, what if it comes to this country? Preachers on TV are saying it’s the scourage of God. Then on Tuesday night you are at church for boble study when someone runs in from the parking lot and yells, “Turn on a radio!” And while everyone listens to a small radio, the announcement is made: Two women are lying in a hospital in NYC dying of the mystery flu. It has come to America.

Within hours the disease envelops the country. People are working around the clock, trying to find an antidote but nothing is working. The disease breaks out in CA, OR, AR, FL, MA, it’s as though it’s just sweeping in from the borders.

Then suddenly the news come out: The code has been broken. A cure has been found, A vaccine can be made. But it’s going to take the blood of somebody who hasn’t been infected. So you and I are asked to do just one thing; Go to the nearest hospital and have our blood tested. When we hear the sirens go off in our neighborhood, we are to make out way quickly, quietly, and safely to the hospital.

Sure enough, by the time you and your family get to the hospital it’s late Friday night. There are long lines of people and a constant rush of doctors and nurses taking blood and putting labels on it. Finally it is your turn. You go first , then your spouse and children follow, and once the doctors have taken your blood they say to you, “Wait here in the parking lot for your name to be called.” You stand around with your family and neighbors, scared, waiting, wondering. Wondering quietly to yourself, what on earth is going on here? Is this the end of the world? How did it ever come to this?

Nobody seems to have had their name called; the doctors just keep taking peoples blood. But then suddenly a young man comes running out of the hospital screaming. He’s yelling a name and waving a clipboard. You don’t hear him at first. “What’s he saying?” Someone asks. The young man screams the name again as he and a team of medical staff run in your direction, but again you cannot hear him, But then your son tugs on your jacket and says, “Daddy, that’s me, That’s my name they’re calling” Before you know it, they have grabbed your boy. “Wait a minute, Hold on!” you say, running after them. “That’s my son.”

“It’s okay,” they reply. “We think he has the right blood type. We just need to check one more time to make sure he doesn’t have the disease.”

Five tense minutes later, outcome the doctors and nurses, crying and hugging each other; some are even laughing. It’s the first time you have seen anybody laugh in a week. An old doctor walks up to you and your spouse and says, “thank you, your son’s blood is perfect. It’s clean, it’s pure, he doesn’t have the disease, and we can use it to make the vaccine.”

As the news begins to spread across the parking lot, people scream and pray and laugh and cry. You can hear the crowd erupting in the background as the gray-haired doctor pulls you and your spouse aside to say, “I need to talk to you. We didn’t realize that the donor would be a minor and we…we need you to sign a consent form.”

The doctor presents the form and you quickly begin to sign it, but then your eyes catches something. The box for the number of pints of blood to be takes is empty.

“How many pints?” you ask. That is when the old doctors smile fades, and he says,”We had no idea it would be a child. We weren’t prepared for that”.

You ask him again, “how many pints?” The old doctor looks away and says regretfully, “We are going to need it all!”

“But I don’t understand. What do you mean you need it all? He’s my only son!”

The doctor grabs you by the shoulders, pulls you close, looks you straight in the eyes, and says, “We are talking about the whole world here, Do you understand? The whole world. Please sign the form. We need to hurry!”

“But can’t you give him a transfusion?” You plead.

“If we had clean blood we would, but we don’t. Please, will you sign the form?” What would you do?

In numb silence you sign the form because you know it’s the only thing to do. Then the doctor says to you, “Would you like to have a moment with your son before we get started?”

Could you walk into that hospital room where your son sits on a table saying, “Daddy? Mommy? What’s going on?” Could you tell your son you love him? And when the doctors and nurse come back in and say, “I’m sorry we’ve got to get started now; people all over the world are dying,” could you leave? Could you walk out while your son is crying out to you, “Mom? Dad? What’s going on? Where are you going? Why are you leaving? Why have you abandoned me?”

The following week, they hold a ceremony to honor your son for his phenomenal contribution to humanity…but some people sleep through it, others don’t even bother to come because they have better things to do, and some people come with pretentious smiles and pretend to care, while others sit around and say, “This is boring!” Wouldn’t you want to stand up and say, “Excuse me! I’m not sure if you aware of it or not, but the amazing life you have, my son died so that you could have that life. My son died so that you could live. He died for you. Does it mean nothing to you?”

Perhaps this is what God wants to say.

Father, seeing it form your eyes should break our hearts. Maybe now we can begin to comprehend the great love you have for us.

Kelly, M. (2010). Rediscovering Catholicism (2nd ed.). Cincinnati, OH: Beacon Publishing.

Christmas Reflection: That's My King

Part II
That's My King

In this Christmas season of the Church, we ought to spend time rediscovering Jesus. Who is this God-man? What did he do? Why should we love him? Why is our Church founded and grounded in him? Look for a series of posts leading up to the Epiphany on January 6 that reawaken our love for Christ and the Church.

Today, soak in this sermon from Dr. S. M. Lockridge.