Monthly Archives: February 2015

Put Your Faith Where Your Prayer Is

10 Tuesday Feb 2015

Posted by in Faith, Fear, Hope, Prayer, Reconciliation, Scripture

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Photo: Catholicexchange.com

Photo: Catholicexchange.com

On January 5th I became a grandfather for the second time. My grandson, Jack, and his parents came home from the hospital on the 7th. On the evening of the 8th Jack stopped breathing. 

My wife, Melinda, was holding him when the event occurred. Her sister, Barbara, who is an RN, and her husband, Dave, a physician, had stopped by to visit and see the new arrival as they were driving from South Dakota to St. Louis. They helped revive him. The EMTs arrived and whisked Jack to the hospital where he spent the next 17 days undergoing a plethora of tests. Jack is home now and doing well.

But, this story really isn’t about Jack. I needed to set the stage with his life-threatening event in order to relate the life-changing experience I had because of it.

In my life I have had no major tragedies, and only one significant infirmity, within my immediate family. Thus, after Melinda phoned me the next morning, I wasn’t as cool and collected as I had been trained to be in emergency situations. Panicked would be a better adjective. I prepared to go home, pack a bag, and start the ten hour drive from Ohio to Kansas City. But first, I sent an email to friends from church and to the coordinator of our parish prayer chain describing the situation and asking for prayers.

I’ve never driven so far with something so heavy weighing on my heart and mind. Before I reached Indianapolis I found myself crying, fraught with fear for Jack’s health and grief for Lisa and Joe. I felt helpless. I’m a man and an engineer. One of my jobs is to fix problems. Not knowing how to fix little Jack nor how to comfort my daughter was eating me up.

At a rest stop just past Indy I checked my phone for emails. Angie, a dear friend back home, emailed saying she believed that Jack’s guardian angel was with him the night before. Had he been lying down instead of being held, he could have stopped breathing with no one the wiser. Then, she stressed that Barb and Dave were there by no mere coincidence. She believed they were sent there by God at just the moment Jack needed them. Her message was so positive and encouraging, and she lifted my spirits.

But, by the time I reached Illinois I was again in a state of despair. Searching the console between the seats for a napkin to wipe my tears, I found, instead, one of my rosaries. I don’t know how it got there; I don’t remember putting it there. I am not accomplished at praying the Rosary but I sensed I was meant to find that rosary at that moment, and, if there was ever a time to ask Our Lady to intercede and help me in my prayers to Jesus, I felt this was it.

It was Friday and the Sorrowful Mysteries were to be prayed. I contemplated the first Mystery, The Agony of Jesus in the Garden, and read, “In praying to the Father, Jesus found strength, trust, and an angel was sent to comfort Him. So, Jesus will be your comforting angel. It’s as He said to us, ‘Why do you worry in your difficulties? Be strong in Me; look to your God in your most troubled hour, and you will be triumphant.’”

The second Mystery, The Scourging of Jesus at the Pillar, reminded me to bear my pain for the love of our Lord. The third Mystery, The Crowning with Thorns, suggested, “He seems to say to us, ‘Why do you despair when you suffer? Is that the way you love me? Meditate about my passions.’ Let us ask for the gift of patience in our suffering.”

In the fourth Mystery, The Carrying of the Cross, I contemplated how Jesus accepted His suffering out of His love for us. I thought about how His Mother, Mary, must have felt as they met on the road to Calvary. “Oh, how Her Heart must have ached.” I felt we had something in common.

And, finally, as I prayed the fifth Mystery, The Crucifixion and Death of Jesus, I was reminded of Jesus’ words to his disciple just before He died, “Behold your Mother”, and how He wishes that we depend on Her Immaculate Heart for a refuge.

Over the next couple hours I thought much about these messages. I didn’t know how to “give it up”, so I prayed fervently for the Lord to help me help Jack and his parents.

West of St. Louis I took my rosary in hand and prayed again. This time I asked the Lord to take away my pain and suffering or, at least, let me bear it so that Jack and his parents would not have to.

I arrived at the hospital in time to see Jack for a few minutes before visiting hours were over. Seeing him connected to all those wires and tubes was difficult. But, seeing the fear in Lisa’s and Joe’s eyes was even more so.

That night, before bed, I prayed for God to help them and to help me know what to do.

On Saturday morning I saw an article on social media about self-pity and how we need to look to God instead of to ourselves. This drifted in and out of my conscious thoughts the rest of the morning.

Also that morning, I discovered a headlight out on my car. I didn’t need that, but I knew it would need repairing before heading home the next day. I spent a few precious minutes with Jack back at the hospital before I left for the dealership. Standing there, unable to hold him, I still felt helpless. I knew Lisa felt the same way.

On my way to the dealership, I recalled Angie’s note, the messages I received from praying the Rosary, the message about self-pity, and my despair of not knowing what to do. Then, with the images of Jack wired to the monitors, and the concern on my daughter’s face, my emotions reached a climax. I’m not sure how to explain what happened next. I think I realized it was all beyond me, that only God could help. I think, in my heart, I finally gave it up to Him. I say “I think” because, in the nanosecond in which I made that leap of faith, I went from bewilderment to immediate, unprecedented, and intense joy. I instantly began praying, “Thank you, Jesus, thank you!” In that moment when I had unconsciously placed my trust in Him, He told me Jack was going to be okay. I also knew that my faith had finally become more than words.

Over the next couple hours, He reinforced my faith with more God-moments. Afraid I was likely to have a wreck, I got control of my emotions. I turned on the stereo and the first song I heard was one from Jason Gray, A Way to See in the Dark1:

“Here I am begging for certainty again / But simple trust is what You’re asking me to give…

“The question mark hung at the end of every fear / Is answered by the promise that You are with me here / And that’s all I’ve got when the lights go out and I lose my way / So, I’ll close my eyes, I won’t be afraid, I won’t be afraid.

“And, I’ll reach for your hand in the night / When the shadows swallow the light / ‘Cause I’m giving up, giving in / Once again a childlike faith is my only way to see in the dark….”

I have listened to this song hundreds of times but this was the first time I actually heard its message. It was like Jesus telling me, “Son, how many times do I have to tell you to trust in Me?”

At the moment I pulled into the dealership I received a text from Eric, a friend back home, saying he was praying for Jack and the rest of us. This text was special because Eric is the one person I know who routinely says, “Let go and let God.” It was as if he intuitively knew I had just done so for the first time in my life.

Preparing for a long wait, I grabbed my rosary and a devotional from my back pack. Since it was Saturday, the Joyful Mysteries were the prayers of the day (Coincidence? I don’t think so!). My take-away message from this Rosary was, “In the difficulties of life, the only safety is finding Jesus and never again leaving his great love.”

I had not taken time that morning to read Saturday’s scriptures. The first reading for January 10th included 1 John 5:14-15, and said, “Beloved: We have this confidence in him that if we ask anything according to his will, he hears us. And if we know that he hears us in regard to whatever we ask, we know that what we have asked him for is ours.” God was telling me again, “Trust me!”

The Gospel for that day, included John 3:30: “He must increase; I must decrease.” It was a reminder to look constantly to Jesus instead of inwardly with self-pity like I had the last day and a half.

From my devotional for January 10th I read: “Practice trusting Me during quiet days, when nothing much seems to be happening. Then when storms come, your trust balance will be sufficient to see you through. Store up for yourself treasure in heaven, through placing your trust in Me. This practice will keep you in My Peace.”2

I thought, “Okay, Lord, I get it now. In one hour, You have, in several ways, affirmed there is no such thing as despair if I will only put my faith and hope in You.”

Finally, I read the daily reflection from Presentation Ministries. It referenced 1 John 5:16 saying, “Many have not had Christmas because they have not repented of sin in their lives. Through the Lord’s forgiveness, they will be given Christmas just before the season ends. On this second to last day of the Christmas season, go to Confession. For so many, Confession is the key to Christmas.”

At 2:10 p.m. my car was repaired. I wanted to get back to the hospital to see more of Jack, but, I now felt pulled to go to Reconciliation. I found the Queen of the Holy Rosary Church was on my route back to the hospital and they had Confession at 2:30 p.m. I arrived there at 2:27 p.m. After relating my story to the priest and confessing my sin of not trusting God, he assigned me a penance to say a prayer of Thanksgiving.

When I returned to the hospital and saw the little man again I knew in my heart he was going to be okay. I didn’t know when but I knew, in God’s time, he would be. I felt the positive power of hundreds of prayers being said for him. I was at peace.

It is in these God-moments, when the Lord reveals Himself to me, that I feel closest to Him. I now know what Eric means by, “Let go and let God.” I know what trusting in Him means. And, I now know how to put my faith where my prayer is.

(Put Your Faith Where Your Prayer Is was first published in Reflections of a Lay Catholic)

1 A Way To See In the Dark, ©2011 Centricity Music Publishing, (ASCAP)/Nothing is Wasted Music (ASCAP)/Simply Complex Songs (SESAC)/Countermechanical Music (SESAC)/Centric Songs (SESAC), words and music by Jason Gray, Doug McKelvey, and Seth Mosley.

2Jesus Calling, ©2014 Sarah Young, Thomas Nelson Publishing

©2015 Reflections of a Lay Catholic. Reposting and sharing of material in its full and original content is permitted, provided that full and clear credit is given to the author(s) and Reflections of a Lay Catholic.

A View from the Back Pew

03 Tuesday Feb 2015

Posted by in Christian Community, Communion

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St. Francis de Sales Church

St. Francis de Sales Church

In the almost three years I’ve been going to church, I have sat nearly every Sunday in about the same place: in or close to the fifth pew from the front on Mary’s side and at the end of the pew next to the outside aisle. Why there, you ask? Well, because that’s where my wife, who is a cradle Catholic, always sits. And, I suspect, she sits there because that’s where her mother always sat, and her mother before her, and so on. Some habits are hard to break, I suppose.

But, last Sunday was an exception. My wife was out of town for the weekend which allowed me to sit wherever I wanted. I chose to sit next to my friend, Joe, in the last pew in the back, still on Mary’s side, and still next to the outside aisle. I couldn’t sit at the very end of the pew. That is Joe’s spot. He always sits there and gets to Mass early to make sure he gets it. He’s as habitual as my wife. It drives me crazy. I accused him of sitting there because it ensures he’s the last one to take communion and, thus, he gets to finish the wine. He gave me a lame denial, claiming that’s where his mother always sat.

Sitting at the back of the church was an entirely new experience. There’s a lot that goes on behind you that you can’t see when you’re sitting up near the front. For example, it appears that parents with young children prefer row eight and back. I always knew they were back there somewhere but when you sit in the front you don’t want to crane your neck around to see where the commotion is coming from. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining about crying babies, I’m happy they are there. They are the future of our Church. But, I do wonder how my wife got away with it all those years when she toted our three diaper-clad daughters to church alone, without me, and still managed to sit in the fifth pew.

I noticed that many children eat their dry Cheerios and Froot Loops for breakfast while in church although I’m pretty sure our priest has spoken about not doing exactly that. Since I’ve never been in their shoes I can’t be judgmental of the parents but I expect they have weighed the risk of getting caught with the peace that goes along with keeping their kids occupied and quiet. I imagine my wife pulled the same covert maneuvers when our girls were young.

Another observation: there appeared to be a big void in the middle of all the pews from about the seventh or eighth row back. The pews were occupied and crowded at each end but only a couple people sat randomly in the middle. I couldn’t help but wonder why the first people to church don’t move to the middle of the pew so that those coming after them don’t have to pardon themselves as they squeeze past just so they can get to a seat. But, then, with some embarrassment, I realized that my wife and I are two of those people who regularly occupy the end of a pew. On the other hand, we never get to church early. Maybe that’s something we can work on.

I made two other significant observations.  The first was how reverent the congregation was as a whole.  Based on what I see from my normal perch, I have always been impressed by the reverence exhibited and my observation from the back pew simply reinforced that notion.

On the other hand, the second of those final two observations was a striking realization that nearly blew me away. Kneeling there, singing the Communion song and waiting, with Joe, to be the next to last soul to walk up to the altar for Holy Communion, I couldn’t believe how many people, upon receiving Holy Communion, simply walk out of church without waiting for the Mass to be over, without waiting for the final blessing, or to hear any announcements that might be made. When you sit near the front, you just don’t know this is going on. And, then, I couldn’t help but put myself in our priest’s position – he sees all of this! How discouraging for him!

Now, again, trying not to be judgmental, I am sure some of those departing early have a legitimate reason. I won’t try to guess what those reasons are but I’ll give them the benefit of the doubt. But, they can’t all have urgencies that are more important than finishing the business at hand!

As I walked out of church I remembered an article I had read just a few days before about people leaving Mass before it was over. I found the article and I feel obliged to include it below.   It is written by Andrew Werkheiser in the January 20, 2015 edition of IntegratedCatholicLife.org, and is entitled Leaving Early? Really? .

You have been invited to a wonderful dinner by one of your friends and/or family. You had no worries about cooking the meal or going out that night, and were just able to relax and enjoy a nice home cooked-meal. As your host is walking in with the dessert that he/she spent an hour preparing, you get up, put your head down, cautiously never making eye contact, and quickly shuffle your way to the door and leave…Well that was rude. If you do that to my fiancé or me, I think I would say something along the lines of, “What the hell?” I mean it’s nice to leave all the dessert for the rest of us, but sometimes that one piece was really meant for just you or that kid that you’re dragging out by the hand. By the way, you forgot the most important thing of all, helping with the dishes. What a way to say thank you!

Where on Earth am I going with this?

I’m talking about Mass people! I’m talking about leaving before the final blessing, and dare I take it one step further, before the final hymn is over. I know, I know, that horribly long one to two minute song that is just oh so painfully cutting into YOUR SUNDAY. I want to relate it to something that should hit home, and explain why I feel the way I do about it.

You would never in a million years so rudely leave your friend or family’s house before dessert, and more than likely you would help with the dishes as well. I see the final blessing as our dessert. I see it as that final step to fulfill a weeklong void, which we have only been asked to fill once a week for one hour. Now, for you sly corporate smart alecks out there, you probably think, “Well, I would like to add about 30 minutes to that clock spent on drive time, thank you.” I don’t want to hear it, you’ll survive. You see, our priests and pastors spend an hour preparing our meal and then so graciously offer us a little extra, a blessing at the end. Something that helps us get through the week… and something that is meant for us to hear, and meant to nurture us. Just as you may have had a piece of pie for yourself and everyone else gathered at the table, maybe last week when you walked out, you missed out on that slice that was just for you. That one little line or phrase that was maybe solely for your ears, but you’ll never know. I don’t know about you, but if the big man upstairs has some Holy Spirit, or wisdom for me, I’m going to take every slice of that I can.

Now, as for helping with those dishes I was talking about earlier. After your amazing church staff has so graciously provided you with “dinner and dessert,” you should say thank you. They took even more time out of their day to serve you than you did to just show up. That choir singing their heart out every Sunday, remember them? How about you say “thank you” by hanging around for, never more than, 120 extra seconds of your life. Just be there, just remain and whether you sing or do the dishes or not, at least hanging around is a much better gesture than just high-tailing it out of there.

And for those that need proof, here is what the Catechism of the Catholic Church states:

CCC ¶ 2180 – The precept of the Church specifies the law of the Lord more precisely: “On Sundays and other holy days of obligation the faithful are bound to participate in the Mass. The precept of participating in the Mass is satisfied by assistance at a Mass which is celebrated anywhere in a Catholic rite either on the holy day or on the evening of the preceding day.”

This, to me, is a straightforward explanation that states that we are to attend and participate in the “Mass.” Not half the Mass, not almost the whole Mass. “THE MASS.”

Oh, and if you still feel like it’s okay, this may change your mind – Judas was the first to leave the Last Supper right after our Lord presented the bread and wine, body and blood. The other apostles, they hung around the whole time, they showed a thankful appreciation, to He who prepared the meal.

Sorry for the rant… sometimes I just can’t help but feel sad with so many folks leaving early.

As I said, I’m sure there are people who certainly have, on occasion, a reason to leave Mass early, but as it applies to most folks who habitually rush out, I think Mr. Werkheiser hits the nail on the head.

One final thought before I leave you. These observations from the back pew in the church make me wonder how much life and vitality we could each infuse into our community if we took it upon ourselves to get out of our habits, to consciously choose to sit in a different location each Sunday, to meet a new person and shake their hand at the Sign of Peace, then to take the time to talk to them and get to know them as we walk out into the gathering space together after Mass is over. Perhaps that would be all it takes to encourage those who leave early to stick around and extend their reverence another couple minutes….for dessert. That might be an idea for Lent. Who’s going to join me?

God Bless You All.

(A View from the Back Pew was first published on the blog Reflections of a Lay Catholic)

©2015 Reflections of a Lay Catholic. Reposting and sharing of material in its full and original content is permitted, provided that full and clear credit is given to the author(s) and Reflections of a Lay Catholic.