A Man of Mercy (Reposted from the Archives)

19 Wednesday Dec 2018

Posted by Jerry Robinson in Advent, Bible Reflections, Christmas, Forgiveness, Love, Mercy

Tags

Forgiveness, Jason Gray, Jesus, Joseph, Love, Mary, Matthew 1:18-25, Mercy, Miracle

Since yesterday’s Gospel was from Matthew 1:18-25, the story of the birth of Jesus, I meant to post this yesterday. But, I got busy with other stuff and forgot. Every year during Advent I think about St. Joseph and what was going through his heart and mind when he learned that his betrothed was carrying a child that wasn’t his. And, I’m reminded of Jason Gray’s song Forgiveness is a Miracle (A Song for Joseph) (link to YouTube music video) in which he paints for us a profound example of mercy that was offered by Joseph, and gives us some insight into the divine wisdom of God. Both the Gospel and the song help me to remember God’s will for me every day is always about love. I hope you enjoy the song, that it encourages you to find a way to grow in love and mercy, and that it helps you prepare your heart to be offered as a gift to our Lord on His birthday. Let me know what you think.

God bless you and may this be your best Advent and Christmas ever!

A Man of Mercy(Reprinted from 5 December 2013)

About this time last year I was listening to a new CD I had purchased by my new favorite singer/songwriter, Jason Gray. The CD is called Christmas Stories: Repeat the Sounding Joy. One particular song on it, “Forgiveness Is A Miracle (A Song For Joseph)”, caught my attention because it was so different from any other Christmas song I had ever heard. Plus, its subject was something which I had never considered: what was going through Joseph’s mind and heart prior to, and during, his wife giving birth to not his son, but Jesus, the Son of God?

I discovered that Jason Gray had written an article for The Rabbit Room describing the story behind the song and he explores this difficult situation in which Joseph found himself. I have re-posted his article below and included a link to The Rabbit Room’s website. I hope you find it as thought provoking as I did.

http://www.rabbitroom.com/2012/10/the-story-behind-forgiveness-is-a-miracle/

The Story Behind “Forgiveness Is a Miracle”

by Jason Gray on October 16, 2012

As I approached writing songs for each of the characters in the Christmas story, I felt particularly protective of Joseph, who I think sometimes doesn’t get the attention he’s due. At the very least I know that I’ve been guilty of not really “seeing” him for the remarkable man that he was, and I wanted to amend that. I enlisted my friend Andy Gullahorn, one of the most masterful storytellers I know, to explore a particular moment in Joseph’s story with me.

Taking my cue from Frederick Buechner’s book, “Peculiar Treasures,” in which he breathes new life into biblical characters who have grown so familiar to us that we no longer experience them as real human beings, I hoped to recapture some of the humanity of the people in the Christmas narrative. It was also important to me to try and write songs that were relevant beyond the four weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas day. I wanted to tell timeless human stories, and with Joseph we have the makings of just that with a love triangle, a question of revenge or forgiveness, and the age old drama of fathers and sons.

As I read his part in the narrative, I found that more than just a foster parent without much to do (as he was often relegated to in my mind), Joseph is revealed as a man after God’s own heart. Faced not only with the news that his fiancée is pregnant, but also with her incredulous story of how it was God’s doing, Joseph’s character is tested and laid out for all of us to see. What will he do? Will he hurt the one who has hurt him? Will he forgive? This is his moment, and all of history waits and watches in wonder.

There are few things more painful than the betrayal and rejection by the one you love most, so we know it must have deeply wounded him—shattering the dreams he may have had of a future with the girl he loved. Pain is like a lightning bolt striking with a violent energy that can’t be held in the human heart for long. It looks for a way out. The way it usually passes through us is in the all too common progression of hurt turning into anger and then into vengeance. Unless the miracle of forgiveness takes place in a person’s heart to absorb it, the pain we experience will pass through us and be visited upon others.

There is debate as to whether it was within Joseph’s power to have her stoned—while Jewish custom might have allowed it, Roman rule did not. However, if not to her body, we know he still could have done violence to her reputation and her heart. But I believe that Joseph did the hard work of bringing his pain to God rather than letting it pass through him, and that God graced him with the miracle of forgiveness. The narrative tells us he was a “godly man” and that instead of doing her harm, “he decided to dismiss her quietly” so that she wouldn’t be publicly shamed. He took the full force of the blow and–acting as the husband he might have been–became a covering over her supposed sin.

It’s hard for us to experience the tension in Joseph’s story since, as the reader, we know from the start that she isn’t guilty of what he naturally supposes and that God is up to something beautiful that the world has never seen before. But to see Joseph for who he is, I have to remember that he couldn’t know these things in real time. It was only after he had given himself to the work of forgiveness that the angel appeared to him in a dream to tell him that what Mary had said was true after all, and that he should marry her.

It occurred to me that perhaps this is where Joseph’s heart was proven—if not to God who already knew his heart, then perhaps to himself. (I haven’t met a man yet who isn’t daunted by the responsibility of being a father, let alone a father to the Son of God. Maybe this was a test to reveal to Joseph what kind of man he could be.) In this moment he is found to be a man of mercy, which I imagine to be just the kind of man that God was looking for to be the earthly father of his son Jesus. In a way, we see that Joseph carries in his heart the same world changing power of forgiveness that Mary carried in her womb.

It’s also meaningful to me to think of how Joseph forgiving Mary is part of the story that leads to the birth of the savior in whom Joseph would find forgiveness for his own sins. Perhaps it’s the narrative form of Jesus’ teaching that as we forgive we find ourselves forgiven.

As we wrote the song, it was good to be reminded that forgiveness is a kind of miracle. I could be wrong, but I’m not sure that we can muster up forgiveness on our own. It seems to me to be a supernatural force of renewal that we participate in as we point our hearts toward it, pray for it, and make room for it in our lives, but that ultimately we receive it as a gift from God, in his due time.

Forgiveness Is A Miracle (A Song For Joseph)
By Jason Gray / Andy Gullahorn
From Christmas Stories: Repeat the Sounding Joy

Love can make a soul come alive
Love can draw a dream out of the darkness
And blow every door open wide
But love can leave you broken hearted

Did she dare to look you in the eye
Did her betrayal leave you raging?
Did you let her see you cry
When she said the child was not your baby?

Pain can turn to anger then to vengeance
It happens time and again
Even in the best of men
It takes a miracle to save us

When love is like an open wound
There’s no way to stop the bleeding
Did you lose sleep over what to do?
Between what’s just and what brings healing

Pain can be a road to find compassion
When we don’t understand, and bring a better end
It takes a miracle to show us

Forgiveness is a miracle
A miracle
And a miracle can change your world
Forgiveness is a miracle

An angel in a dream spoke into your darkest night
So you trusted in the Lord and you took her as your wife
But the forgiveness that you gave would be given back to you
Because you carried in your heart what she was holding in her womb

Love was in a crowded barn
There you were beside her kneeling
You held it in your arms
As the miracle started breathing

Forgiveness is the miracle
The miracle
And a miracle will change your world
Forgiveness is the miracle
Forgiveness is the miracle
The miracle
A miracle will save the world
Forgiveness is the miracle
Forgiveness is the miracle
Forgiveness is the miracle

Blessed Joseph
Your heart is proven
And through you the Kingdom has come
For God delights in a man of mercy
And has found an earthly father for his son

(A Man of Mercy: (Reposted from the Archives) was first published on the blog Reflections of a Lay Catholic)

©2018 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.

Daily 100: The Cornerstone

04 Monday Jun 2018

Posted by Jerry Robinson in Daily 100, Faith

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Tags

Cornerstone, Faith, Jesus, Mark 12:10, Prayer

In His parable of the tenants of the vineyard, Jesus tells the Pharisees (Mk 12:10) that, although He is the stone they’ve rejected, He is still the Cornerstone, the Son of God.

I know I believe Him. But, how strong is my faith, really? When I pray do I ask Jesus to help me set my cornerstone, or do I ask Jesus to come and be my Cornerstone? Do I ask Jesus to come walk with me where I want to go, or do I ask Jesus to lead me and be patient while I follow Him?

(Daily 100: The Cornerstone was first published on the blog Reflections of a Lay Catholic)

©2013-2018 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 Point of Reference

13 Tuesday Feb 2018

Posted by Jerry Robinson in Faith, Prayer

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

Disorientation, Faith, Garden of Gethsemane, God, Helicopter Underwater Evacuation Training, HUET, Individualism, Jesus, Materialism, Offshore Survival Training, Prayer, Reference Point, Relativism

Jesus Praying in the Garden of Gethsemane

One day last week a friend of mine, the father of a Marine, shared a link to a video of Marines undergoing Helicopter Underwater Evacuation Training (HUET). Although I was never a Marine, the video brought back many memories of similar training.

For many years I managed the construction, operations and maintenance of a natural gas pipeline system in the Gulf of Mexico. We employed helicopters to travel to offshore platforms and, because there was always the risk of an aircraft going down, we trained on how to react to such an event.

Helicopters used in offshore service are equipped with floats designed to keep the aircraft upright in the event of a water landing. Unfortunately, these floats can fail to inflate or fail to stay inflated. If one float fails, the helicopter will list to that side, capsize and go inverted.

Our offshore survival training was conducted in a swimming pool using a mock helicopter cockpit made for two, four or six passengers. Trainees were strapped in and, because an aircraft may go down at night, we were blindfolded. Then, the cockpit was suddenly inverted and the fun began.

As water rushed in, the person nearest the door opened it, and everyone began unfastening their harnesses. Amidst the rush of water and flailing arms and legs, we each, then, tried to find our way out before inflating our personal floatation devices. (Inflating your PFD before egressing could pin you to the floor of the aircraft.)

The natural tendency is to panic in these situations. When you fear drowning and can’t breathe, see, or hear; can’t find the latch to your harness; and you’re getting kicked and clawed by others trying to save their own lives, it can get hairy. The worst part about being blindfolded and inverted underwater, however, is the total disorientation. Up is now down, down is up, and left and right are reversed. It’s this disorientation, this confusion, that causes people to lose their lives.

The secret to surviving is to find a fixed point of reference onto which you can grab with your off hand before the aircraft starts to list, keeping your predominant hand free to release your harness; and to make a mental note of where exit doors are in relation to that reference point. With respect to the aircraft, this point of reference doesn’t change regardless of the aircraft’s orientation. Taking a moment to mentally orient yourself and visualize what you need to do, will probably save your life.

Yesterday morning at church, I was gazing at the stained glass window of Jesus in the garden of Gethsamane that is behind our altar and this recollection of survival training came sneaking into my consciousness, distracting me. I tried to push it away. But, before I could, I realized that the image in the window was Jesus praying to His point of reference, God the Father, for strength, courage and direction.

Then, I thought about when the exigencies of life turn my world upside down; when crises leave me confused and disoriented; and when heartbreak leaves me feeling lost in the dark and unsure of which way to go, I know Christ is my unchanging reference point.

When our culture tries its best to convince me that my happiness depends on the material things I accumulate, having Jesus as my reference point reminds me that, although I could lose everything tomorrow, He will never leave me.

When the world tells me that the only way to get ahead is to always put myself first regardless of the impact it may have on others, I can, instead, look to Him as an example of unselfishness and compassion.

When I’m told that right and wrong are matters of personal preference, and I should feel ashamed if my opinion differs from that of another, I can rely on Him for the truth.

I know when my ship goes down, as it someday will, it won’t be easy. But, I’ll be ready because I train every day, not in a mock cockpit in a swimming pool, but in daily prayer, meditating on God’s Word, and listening to His message – my point of reference.

How do you train?

“Lord Jesus, You are the Light and the Truth. You are unchanging. Lord, You give me the grace to always turn to you, especially when I’m in danger of drowning. When I reach for your hand in the dark, I know you will be there to pull me up. Amen.”

(A Point of Reference was first published on the blog Reflections of a Lay Catholic)

Before the Cross

31 Wednesday Jan 2018

Posted by Jerry Robinson in Blessed Sacrament, Eucharistic Adoration, Love

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Adoration, Blessed Sacrament, Cross, Crucifix, Desert, Eucharistic Adoration, Good News, Jesus, Kingdom of God, Love, silence, solitude

Jesus Crucified, Le Coup de Lance – Peter Paul Rubens

It’s amazing how time and space can be transformed when you’re in the desert. One hour of silence and solitude during Eucharistic Adoration in the real presence of Jesus can transport you into the mysteries of Christ’s life.

Yesterday, as I knelt before the Blessed Sacrament during my Holy hour, I found myself not alone, but alone with Christ. It was so quiet in the chapel that I could almost hear the flicker of the flame burning in the candle to the right of the tabernacle. Yet, I was listening to the voice of Jesus.

As I knelt on the rocky ground, I could feel the gravel digging into my knee caps. Before me, Jesus was hanging from the cross, struggling for every breath. I felt helpless and ashamed of my cowardice. To rise up and object would certainly mean my death from the Roman soldier standing nearby.

Blinking away the blood and sweat in His eyes, He looked at me. Our eyes met. I uttered, “My Lord, how can this be happening? How can you endure such torture? I cannot bear it!”

He had not enough breath to speak, but in His eyes I could hear Him say, “Because of my suffering you will have eternal peace and salvation.”

“How can I ever repay You?, I pleaded, choking on my words.

Again, I read in His eyes, “I thirst for your love. Show me your love by loving others as I have loved you. Go, let that love multiply as we did with the loaves and fishes. Spread the Good News of the Kingdom of God as I have taught you.”

The pain from the gravel beneath my knees grew worse and I blinked. I lost His gaze and He was gone.

I found myself back in the Adoration Chapel kneeling on the soft cushion of the prie-dieu with the monstrance before me. My hour was almost over. The pain in my knees was just the arthritis from growing older.

(Before the Cross was first published on the blog Reflections of a Lay Catholic)

Do You Not Yet Have Faith?

28 Sunday Jan 2018

Posted by Jerry Robinson in Bible Reflections, Blessed Sacrament, Confession, Eucharistic Adoration, Faith, Fear, Prayer, Reconciliation

≈ 9 Comments

Tags

Desert, Faith, I Trust In You, Jesus, Mark 1:21-28, Mark 4:40, Prayer, Reconciliation, Reflection, Spiritual Warfare

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– St. Augustine

God continues to work in my life! And, after reading today’s Gospel, Mark 1:21-28, about Jesus casting out the unclean spirit from the man in the synagogue; and yesterday’s Gospel, Mark 4:35-41, about the Apostles’ lack of faith while in their boat during the storm, I feel compelled to tell you how He recently touched me and helped my faith grow deeper.

My wife and I had a wonderful but busy Christmas season. We traveled to Europe to visit our daughter who was studying abroad, and we toured parts of Belgium, France and Germany.

We returned home on the 31st and caught up on a few necessary items before driving to Kansas City on Friday the 5th for our grandson Jack’s third birthday. Then, on Monday, I went on to my second in-residence week of training (also in Kansas City) to become a spiritual mentor.

To say that I had been looking forward to this week would be an understatement. I was dying to get there and experience another week of God’s peace and the joy that radiates from the Sisters of the Apostles of the Interior Life (AVI).

Don’t get me wrong, I truly loved spending quality time with my wife and daughter over the holiday, but with all the traveling and site-seeing I let my daily routine of meditative prayer slide. And, I dearly missed it. I was so looking forward to getting back on track, to the spiritual formation and the times of silence and solitude in the coming week.

When I checked in I immediately felt a sense of belonging. The Sisters of the AVI and alumni mentors were there to meet me and the other students with whom I had become friends during our first session last May. We soon went to mass, had dinner, and had our first classroom session.

By bedtime I was ready to pack my bags, get in my truck and go home.

In a matter of a few hours everything about me transformed from being on fire to being consumed with doubt in my ability to ever succeed as a mentor, and a total sense of unworthiness to be there amid so many holy people. I hurt.

I laid in bed begging Jesus for direction on what I needed to do to shake the fear. I was confused and worried. I knew I needed to trust in Him but I just couldn’t make myself let go.

I awoke the next morning in worse condition than when I fell asleep. I prayed but still didn’t know what to do. I began my daily meditation by reading the scripture for the day. The Gospel for that morning, January 9th, was Mark 1:21-28 (the same passage as today). When I read about Jesus casting out the demon from the man, I was reminded of the spiritual warfare I had last year that made me fearful of posting on my blog. It was deja vu all over again! I thought, “Okay, been there and done that”, so I changed my prayer from, “Jesus, help me figure this out!”, to, “Jesus, I trust in You!” I prayed for the grace to truly turn it over to Him.

But, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t do it. It wasn’t happening.

The order of the day began with morning prayer followed by meditation, an opportunity for reconciliation, an hour of Eucharistic Adoration, and a half day of silent retreat dubbed “the Desert”. Fr. Allessandro led the meditation in his soft, kind, Italian accented voice. Between his accent, my hearing aids and the acoustics in the chapel, I barely understood a word he said. But, somewhere in the middle of his talk I heard, “In the desert, you can’t hide from your fear.”

I knew God was talking to me and I was meant to hear those words even if I understood nothing else. I knew something was going to happen while “in the Desert”, but I didn’t know what.

Feeling ashamed of my failure to put all my faith in Jesus, I felt compelled to go to reconciliation as soon as the meditation was over. I confessed to Fr. Steve that my prayer life had been naught over the prior three weeks and I desperately wanted to get it back. I explained my feeling of unworthiness to be there and confessed that I simply couldn’t find a way to turn it over and totally trust in Jesus. Kindly, he told me there isn’t a day goes by during which he doesn’t feel unworthy to be a priest but he knows God called him to be one. And, he told me he knows God called me to be there and to be in the program. Christ, working through Fr. Steve’s hands, forgave me for my unbelief.

I left the confessional and said my one Our Father for my penance. I knelt on the tile floor before Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament and I started to say, “Jesus, I trust in You.” But, before I uttered the first syllable, I felt an overwhelming rush of consuming love wash over me. If I hadn’t already been on both knees, I would have collapsed to them. In that instant of giving my heart and fear to Him, I felt and heard Him say, “Don’t be afraid, I’ve got this! You’re my beloved.” I broke into tears.

From that moment, the rest of the week was perfect! I couldn’t have asked for more.

Later that day, I recalled the one other time I felt touched by Jesus in this same way (see Put Your Faith Where Your Prayer Is ). It was when I was praying for my four day old grandson Jack’s life as he lay in the NICU at Children’s Mercy Hospital in Kansas City. I had finally realized there was nothing I could do to help him when, in that moment of giving it up I began to say, “Jesus, I trust in You”, He hit me with the same overwhelming feeling of love and I heard Him tell me, “Don’t be afraid, Jack’s going to be okay.”

Thinking about Jack now as a healthy and normal little boy, I realized it was exactly three years to the day since that first event. Coincidence? I don’t think so. No, I think it was Jesus reminding me and asking me, “Do you not yet have faith?” (Mark 4:40)

I know I’ve shared many stories over the last five years about how God has worked in my life. But, folks, He is with us and is just waiting for us to open our minds to the truth, our hearts to His love, and our eyes to see the tangible signs of his presence in everything around us. I’m nobody special. You can find Him in your life, too.

God bless you!

“Lord Jesus, thank You for Your infinite love, Your forgiveness, and Your patience. Thank You for leading me to the Father. Holy Spirit, thank You for opening my heart and mind to the Word of God, and for opening my eyes to see His presence in the ordinary things of my life. Amen.”

(Do You Not Yet Have Faith? was first published on the blog Reflections of a Lay Catholic)

Soil Conditioning for the Heart

24 Wednesday Jan 2018

Posted by Jerry Robinson in Bible Reflections, Faith, Prayer, Scripture

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Faith, Jesus, Mark 4:1-20, Parables, Prayer, Reflection, Resolution, silence, solitude, The Parable of the Sower

The Angelus, Jean-Francois Millet, 1859

In my previous life (pre-2012 and pre-Catholic) I would occasionally crack a Bible and read a passage or two before losing interest and closing it up. This didn’t happen often, mostly when I was traveling, alone and bored in a hotel room somewhere and there was a Gideon Bible in the nightstand drawer. I remember reading from the Gospels and wondering why Jesus talked to the people in parables. As far as I could tell, it was all a riddle that nobody in their right mind could understand. It made no sense.

This recollection came back to me today as I read and meditated on today’s Gospel, Mark 4:1-20, the Parable of the Sower. A lot has changed over the last six years. I understand this parable today – that Jesus is the sower, the Word of God is the seed, and the different types of soil are the dispositions of the diversity in our faith. Or at least I think that’s what it’s about.

But, as I meditated on this today, my thoughts were more on why Jesus spoke in parables rather than the message in the parable.

I have learned that the Jewish rabbis and teachers in Jesus’ time, taught using stories with familiar images and experiences to which the learner could relate. The messages in these stories were not explicit but, instead, were designed to make one think. The answers were complex and seldom simple. If you thought you had it figured out, you probably didn’t. You needed to think about it more, and think more deeply.

Jesus’ parables were similar to what we call allegory today. He always had a hidden complex spiritual meaning or moral lesson embedded within his parable. And, depending on one’s level of faith, you either got it, partially got it, or you were totally lost.

Even Jesus’ disciples and His chosen Apostles didn’t always understand. In today’s Gospel, His disciples questioned Him about the parables. Jesus answered them, “The mystery of the kingdom of God has been granted to you. But to those outside everything comes in parables so that they may look and see but not perceive, and hear and listen but not understand, in order that they may not be converted and be forgiven.” Jesus continued, “Do you not understand this parable? Then how will you understand any of the parables?” (Mk 4:11-13)

We often think that the Apostles were all totally on board and on the same page as Jesus. But, the reality was that they never did quite figure it out until Jesus’ resurrection and eventual ascension into heaven. No, they were quite often lost regarding the mysteries of Christ’s life (e.g. Mk 8:32-33, Peter’s response to the first prediction of Jesus’ Passion; and, Mk 9:28-29, the healing of a boy with a demon).

Jesus wanted everyone, His disciples included, to think deeply about His message. He wanted them to look beyond the obvious, below the surface, and outside of the box. He challenged them to compare and relate His stories, His parables, with their own lives. The extent of their understanding and ability to relate often depended on their faith.

Nothing has changed. It still depends on faith. The reason I didn’t understand the Gospel as I read while lounging on a hotel room bed was because I had no faith. The difference between then and now for me is that I now believe the Word of God to be the truth. I have a deep desire to understand it so that I can apply it to my life.

Jesus still challenges us to understand God’s Word within the context of our own lives, our own experiences. He wants to sow the Seed on fertile soil so that it may grow and produce fruit. How do we prepare that garden plot in preparation for His sowing?

First, we need to create an atmosphere in which we can listen to God through His Word in the scripture, an atmosphere of silence and solitude that is conducive to deep thought without distractions. Author Henri J.M. Nouwen in his book, The Way of the Heart, describes silence as, “not not speaking, but listening to God”; and solitude as, “not being alone, but being alone with God.” Finding that time and place is critical.

Once you’re there, open up your heart in prayer. Give thanks to God for the opportunity to be with Him in that moment. Ask the Holy Spirit to open your heart and mind to receive the Word of God, and for the grace to understand His Word as you read and reflect upon it.

As you read the scripture, think deeply about what it is God is telling you at that moment. Maybe there is a verse or a phrase or just a couple words that jump out at you. Stop and reflect on that which catches your attention and let the Holy Spirit take you deeper to reveal God’s unique message for you. Say a prayer of thanksgiving once you’ve absorbed His revelation.

Next, ask yourself how that message relates to your life today. Is there something you can do to change? What can you do today to be more virtuous, to grow in holiness, and to become a better disciple, spouse, parent, and friend? How can you condition your soil to make it more fertile? The Holy Spirit will convict you and show you the way!

Finally, take that one thing, that one change for the better, and write a concrete resolution that will effect an improvement that day. Make it easy but make it concrete. Think baby steps instead of leaping tall buildings. Something that you can, at the end of the day, look back on and say with a sense of accomplishment, “Yes! I did it!”

And then go do it.

This is how you grow in faith. This is how you begin to understand the Word of God and not get confused in the complexity of the parables. And, this is how you gradually grow in holiness on your way to becoming a saint just like the Apostles.

“Heavenly Father, thank You for giving me the deep desire to understand Your Word, and for Your Son, Jesus, to sow that Seed in my heart. Thank You, Holy Spirit, for the gift of faith that has conditioned my heart to be fertile ground for producing fruit for Your kingdom. I pray that, through Your grace, the harvest is abundant. Amen.”

(Soil Conditioning for the Heart was first published on the blog Reflections of a Lay Catholic)
©2013-2018 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 Taste of Spiritual Warfare

17 Sunday Dec 2017

Posted by Jerry Robinson in Fear, Prayer, Saints, Scripture, Spirituality

≈ 20 Comments

Tags

Bible Reflection, Do Not Be Afraid, Fear, God, Holiness, Jesus, John the Baptist, Prayer, Spiritual Warfare, Spirituality, St. Michael the Archangel, Testifying to the Light of Christ

Stained glass of John the Baptist testifying to Christ.

It’s been over three months since I’ve posted anything on Reflections of a Lay Catholic. In a strange way, I wish I could tell you that I’ve been experiencing a dry spell, or had writer’s block, or have just been too busy to post. But, I’d be lying. The truth is I’ve written a half dozen blog-worthy reflections during this last quarter. But, I didn’t post them because I was afraid.

I first began experiencing this fear in May. I didn’t know what it was nor why I was feeling afraid. I posted a few times this summer but each posting took more courage and strength than the one before it. Finally, after my last post in September, I was able to define my fear, and, once I did, I couldn’t make myself post again.

My fear was that when others read my posts, they think that my personal reflections of how I am inspired by seeing God work in my life are attempts to brag at my growth in holiness, that I’m exhibiting a “holier-than-thou” attitude, and that I’m writing for the purpose of having my ego stroked. It wasn’t a fear that had me shaking in my shoes but it was debilitating, nonetheless. I was stymied.

I spent a lot of time rereading my reflections and thinking about how the messages in them might be perceived by my readers. Even though I could find nothing to support why I was afraid, my fear remained strong.

I cautiously ventured to ask some trusted friends if they sensed a lack of humility in my reflections. They answered just the opposite, that my posts gave credit to God working through me. I knew they wouldn’t lie to me but I still doubted them.

I questioned why God chose me to share my faith through my writing. Why didn’t he choose Joe or Steve, or any of the other men who were with me that weekend when we were renewed in Christ? I found some comfort in 1 Corinthians 12:4-6:

“There are different kinds of spiritual gifts but the same Spirit; there are different forms of service but the same Lord; there are different workings but the same God who produces all of them in everyone.”

Although I believed God had chosen me to share my faith and proclaim His Word to show others how He works in my life so that they can learn to see Him working in their own, I wondered if I was abusing the gift He had given me.

I meditated on why I write and share with others and whether I was being honest with myself. I learned from this that I have two different purposes: I write for myself. But, I post for the potential benefit of others.

I write every day to get more in touch with my own spirituality and I’ve discovered it’s one of the ways I learn. I know if I don’t write it down, I will forget it before the winds of worldly busy-ness whisk it away. During my morning prayer and meditation, I reflect on the scripture and I write what I hear God saying to me. Then I write how that understanding might relate to my life that day. And, finally, I make a resolution to take what I learned and apply it in some way that will make me a better version of myself.

Occasionally, I think, I believe that my inspiration might be worth something to other people. Thus, I try to write my thoughts and insights in such a way that others might find them valuable in building a stronger relationship with Christ. Then, I post, hoping that others may find God’s grace in the little things of their own lives and that they will grow in their own holiness.

Since I retired in May, I have tried to grow in holiness by attending daily mass and by reading and meditating daily on scripture to listen to what God wants me to hear that day. My desire has been to grow holier than I was the day before, not holier than someone else. This regimen has brought immense peace into my life and a closeness to Christ.

In November, while I was meeting with a group of other men, including our Deacon, I opened up about my fear and I mentioned some of these things. After some conversation, our Deacon, who saw that it was no coincidence that my fear and my new prayer life both began in May, asked if I’d considered that perhaps Satan was messing with me since I’d been especially focused on strengthening my relationship with Jesus. I had to admit that thought had never crossed my mind.

I had heard of this phenomenon from many people but had never consciously experienced it myself. In reading the lives of the saints, I’d heard them mention this same thing. I realized I had just had my first taste of spiritual warfare.

After admitting I had not considered the devil sabotaging my spiritual life, I was even more ashamed that I had not done the one thing that would have simplified it all: pray for help and understanding about what was going on. I hadn’t turned to Christ for help; I’d tried to manage it all myself. Later that night, before bed, I did turn to Him in prayer.

The next morning I awoke and took my place in my comfortable chair to spend my time in silence, solitude and meditation. After my regular morning prayers, I went to my phone app to read the daily scripture passages and about the saint of the day. When I clicked on the latter, some quotes by well-known saints popped up:

“When the servant of God endeavors with all his strength to possess and preserve that joyousness of spirit which proceeds from purity of heart, and which is acquired by fervent prayer, the demons may try in vain to hurt him.” – St. Francis of Assisi

“We need to be especially alert to the evil subtlety of Satan. His one desire is to keep people from having a mind and heart disposed to their Lord and God….He wants to extinguish the light of the human heart.” – St. Francis of Assisi

“Proclaim the truth and do not be silent through fear.” – St. Catherine of Sienna

“Do not be afraid. Open wide the doors for Christ.” – Pope Saint John Paul II

I kid you not! God answered my prayers that morning.

Over the last three weeks I’ve been debating how to get started again posting my reflections. I knew if I didn’t begin again, the evil one would win this round. I wasn’t sure how to resume and, to be honest, I’ve been procrastinating. Until today.

At mass this morning, I heard the lector read from Isaiah 61, “He has sent me to bring glad tidings to the poor…”, and the purpose of my reflections came to mind.

In the Psalm, I repeated, “My soul rejoices in my God” and I gave thanks for the relationship we have.

In the second reading, 1 Thes 5:18, I heard, “In all circumstances give thanks, for this is the will of God for you in Christ Jesus”, and it occurred to me that I had not thanked God for this long and painful experience. I thanked Him.

In the Gospel, John 1:6-7, I heard our priest proclaim, “A man named John was sent from God. He came for testimony, to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him.” I couldn’t help but think that this was God telling me it’s time for me to get off high center. It’s time for me to resume testifying to the light of Christ. My daily resolution was to write and post this, to alert others to the devil’s designs, and to get it behind me so I can move forward.

After mass I sat down to complete my daily meditation before beginning to write. I read the day’s reflection by Fr. Francis Fernandez from In Conversation with God, Vol. 1, 114, “What is more, we should have no opportunities at all for growing in virtue if we had no obstacles to overcome.”

Ain’t that the truth!

“Thank You, Lord, for Your love. Thank You for Your gentle ways of teaching. Thank You for Your patience as I learn to love You more. Lord, help me to never stop pointing others to you and witnessing the truth of Your Word and grace. Amen.”

“St. Michael, the Archangel, defend us in battle. Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil. May God rebuke him, we humbly pray; and do thou, O Prince of the Heavenly Host, by the power of God cast into hell Satan and all the evil spirits who prowl throughout the world seeking the ruin of souls. Amen.”

(A Taste of Spiritual Warfare was first published on the blog Reflections of a Lay Catholic)
©2013-2017 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.

The Choosing

13 Wednesday Sep 2017

Posted by Jerry Robinson in Bible Reflections, Discernment, Prayer, Scripture

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Apostles, Bible Reflection, Discipleship, Faith, Grace, Jesus, Love, Luke 6:12-19, Mercy, Prayer, The Twelve

As I read and meditated on Tuesday’s Gospel, I couldn’t help but wonder about a few things.

“In those days He departed to the mountain to pray, and He spent the night in prayer to God. When day came, He called His disciples to Himself, and from them He chose Twelve, whom He also named apostles: Simon, whom He named Peter, and his brother Andrew, James, John, Philip, Bartholomew, Matthew, Thomas, James the son of Alphaeus, Simon who was called a Zealot, and Judas the son of James, and Judas Iscariot, who became a traitor.” (Luke 6:12-16 NAB)

Did Jesus spend the night in prayer discerning which of His disciples He would choose to be the Twelve? And, if so, what criteria did He consider? Was He looking for the one with the greatest love for God? Or, the one who was most faithful? Or, maybe the one most loyal to Him? Perhaps the deciding quality was the ability and willingness to show compassion and mercy to others. Could it have been the ones who demonstrated love for their neighbors as they loved themselves? Or, was it the ones who had the greatest zeal to go out and spread the Good News?

One would think it would have been several or all of those things. But, then, maybe it was none of them.

And, did He learn from his prayerful conversation with God that night that Judas Iscariot would betray Him?

Who knows.

But, an even more important question came to my mind: “Would He have chosen me?”

Followed by, “If not, why not?”

In which of those qualities that, on the surface, would seem to have been the most important to Him, do I not measure up? Just a few? Or all of them?

It gives me something to pray about, to ask Him to show me where I should focus my attention.

Would you have been chosen? What would have excluded you?

“Lord Jesus, I love You and I desire to grow closer to You. I give You thanks for Your Mercy. I pray for the Grace to always trust in You, to always live the Father’s commandments, and to be Your voice, hands and feet in spreading Your Good News. Amen.”

(The Choosing was first published on the blog Reflections of a Lay Catholic)
©2013-2017 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.

Thoughts on the Total Solar Eclipse

21 Monday Aug 2017

Posted by Jerry Robinson in Bible Reflections, Faith, Scripture

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Eclipse, Faith, Jesus, Jgs 2:11-12, Lk 23:44-45, Mt 19:21-22, Ps 106:36-37, Solar Eclipse, Total Solar Eclipse, Worldly Attachments

Today’s the day the scientific community and millions of regular folks across America have been waiting for: the total solar eclipse. The last one to occur was in 1979, and prior to that, the last to be visible from the contiguous 48 states was in 1918.

From my perch here in southwest Ohio, the eclipse is supposed to begin at 1:02 p.m., peak at 2:28:41 p.m., and end at 3:52 p.m. – almost three hours. The sky is clear and we should see a 90% eclipse.

I don’t have any special dark glasses with which to look at the eclipse, nor did I make a pinhole viewer from a shoe box. I’m just sitting here on my front porch waiting to see it get dark in the middle of the day.

Waiting to see if anything special happens when the moon blocks out the sun.

I recall a story of an eclipse which happened about 2,000 years ago that also lasted about three hours.

“It was now about noon and darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon because of an eclipse of the sun. Then the veil of the temple was torn down the middle” (Lk 23:44-45).

It occurred in Jerusalem as Jesus was dying on the cross – a death demanded by the self-righteous of the time, most notably the Jewish scholars and priests who were blinded by their man-made beliefs to which they were attached and who refused to accept that God had finally sent their Messiah, the Son of Man, as He promised.

Their beliefs blocked out the “Son”.

I recall this morning’s Scripture passages:

“The children of Israel offended the Lord by serving the Baals. Abandoning the Lord, the God of their fathers, who led them out of the land of Egypt, they follow the other gods of the various nations around them, and by their worship of these gods provoked the Lord.” (Judges 2:11-12)

“They served their idols, which became a snare for them. They sacrificed their sons and their daughters to demons.” (Psalms 106: 36-37)

“Jesus said to him, ‘If you wish to be perfect, go, sell what you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.’ When the young man heard this statement, he went away sad, for he had many possessions.” (Matthew 19:21-22)

Each of these passages spoke to me about how our society often puts other things ahead of God and His Son, Jesus, making it easy to turn away from Them. These other things, our “possessions”, our attachments, are the habits and “important” stuff we can’t turn loose of. They’re those things that keep us from focusing on, and spending time with, our Lord.

They, too, block out the “Son”.

One has to wonder if the Church picked these passages specially for today. But, I know they didn’t. I also know it’s not just coincidence. This is the way God works.

Perhaps, then, today, the day the moon eclipsed the sun, would be a good day to think about what things we allow in our lives to eclipse the “Son”, and what it will take to turn loose of them.

“Heavenly Father, I give you thanks for Your great glory. Thank You for this world in which we live with all its wonders – Your Wonders. Thank You especially for the greatest Wonder of all, Your Son, Jesus. Holy Spirit, help me to turn loose of my unnecessary worldly attachments so that I may grow closer to Christ. Amen.”

(Thoughts on the Total Solar Eclipse was first published on the blog Reflections of a Lay Catholic)

©2013-2017 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.Thout

Take Up Your Cross

18 Tuesday Jul 2017

Posted by Jerry Robinson in Bible, Bible Reflections, Faith, Hope

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

Faith, God, Jesus, Joy, Matthew 10:38, Resurrection, Suffering, Take Up Your Cross

“…and whoever does not take up his cross and follow after me is not worthy of me.” – Mt 10:38

As I read this passage from this morning’s (Monday’s) Gospel I asked myself the questions, “What does Jesus mean by ‘take up your cross’?”, and, “What is my cross?”. It was like deja vu. I’ve asked myself those two questions a gazillion times and never took the time to reflect upon them. But, this time the last four words of that verse, “is not worthy of me”, jumped out at me and I decided I really ought to know the answers.

I’ve been thinking about this most of the day. Here’s what my simple brain came up with:

In the first sense, the cross is a sign of suffering. It’s where Jesus suffered and died and it’s where many were crucified by the Romans before and after Him. Our “cross” is that which causes us to suffer.

We all suffer in some way. It may come in the form of real physical or emotional pain. Perhaps our suffering is a physical handicap, the loss of a loved one, the experience of an injustice, or the loss of a job and the inability to make ends meet.

Or, maybe, our suffering is one of inconvenience – the perceived pain of not getting our way, of being “put out” by circumstances beyond our control.

By “taking up our cross”, I think Jesus is telling us in a round-about way that, no matter what our suffering is, we need to deal with it. Life isn’t a bowl of cherries. In this life there will always be a certain amount of suffering. Not until we find ourselves in heaven will we live a peaceful and painless eternity.

Taking up our cross, then, means to accept that which causes us to suffer. It means we need to take ownership and, in doing so, we need to accept our suffering without complaining, moaning and groaning. But, I think there are two kinds of complaining.

The first, the good complaining, is like groaning that your legs hurt after you’ve just completed the fastest mile you’ve ever run. It’s a hurt that is expected, and one you’re glad to experience because it means you’ve grown/advanced/improved. It’s a hurt for which you’re grateful. There’s no cross to be taken up in this case.

The second, the bad kind of complaining, is when we express our misery because of an unfortunate circumstance: we couldn’t get our grass mowed this week because it rained and then our lawn mower wouldn’t start. The irony is that, if we think about it, we should be grateful for the time we have, while we’re not mowing the lawn, to do other things, like improving relationships, that often get pushed to the back burner. In this regard, I think about the verse from 1 Thessalonians 5:18, “In all circumstances give thanks, for this is the will of God for you in Jesus Christ.” By doing this, we’re elevating the circumstance to the first level, the good complaint.

With respect to this second type of complaining, taking up our cross is not making another person, intentionally or unintentionally, feel bad because of our situation. This is where taking ownership comes into play. It’s ours and we can’t make it someone else’s. Asking someone to pray for us and hoping for their compassion is fine. But, expecting someone to commiserate with us and personally feel bad over our personal issue isn’t part of taking up our cross.

On the other hand, there is one person whom we can ask to bear our suffering with us – Jesus. He tells us throughout the Gospels that He is there for us, that we can trust in and turn our troubles over to Him. He will make our burdens light.

Taking up our cross means that, in accepting our circumstances, we realize it is in the past, it’s behind us, and we can’t do anything about what’s already happened. We need to let it die.

It’s now that the second meaning of taking up our cross and following after Jesus comes into play. After we’ve let that which causes our suffering to die, we need to start living again. That’s when we not only take up our cross but we begin to follow after Jesus. It’s a resurrection for us.

Jesus died and, upon His resurrection, went to a better place. By taking up our cross and following Him, we, too, can find a kind of resurrection, a better place. We begin to open ourselves up to finding joy in the every day gifts which God provides. In opening up, we begin to accept His love for us, a love that is independent of our circumstances. Then, ultimately, our resurrection is complete when we begin to love others unselfishly in spite of our personal suffering. In fact, we no longer view it as suffering but, instead, as a unique gift.

You know what? I’m not going to expound on what my cross is. That’s because I can see that I have many crosses to bear. After going through this exercise, I realize my crosses can be different from one day to the next, or even one hour to the next. Some crosses are heavier than others. Some I accept quicker than others. I think the important thing is that I have figured this out for myself and can begin to see my suffering, both the real and the inconvenient, as crosses to bear.

And, I resolve to pray to our Lord, Jesus, for His help in lightening the load of each of those crosses.

Won’t you take some time to think about your crosses and how you take them up in following Him?

“Lord Jesus, I know that You know that I know what my crosses are. And, I know that You’re just waiting for me to turn to You, to place my trust in You to lighten my load. I know You will because You have so many times before. I pray for an increase in faith that it is Your will that is done, not mine. Lord, thank You for all your many blessings, even those which I didn’t recognize as blessings at the time. Amen.”

(Take Up Your Cross was first published on the blog Reflections of a Lay Catholic)
©2013-2017 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.