I can say I’ve been on both sides of the spectrum. I remember seasons of my life when I was trying to grow in my faith but didn’t take my sins seriously. They were times when I knew I needed Confession but still received Eucharist week after week, in a “God-loves-me-anyway” but “I-make-my-own-rules” sort of way.
A teaser of our upcoming video!!
The Gospel of the Mustard Seed is one of Jesus’s most well known parables about the kingdom of God. Jesus is responding to the question, “What is the Kingdom of God like?” The Mustard Seed demonstrates that while the kingdom started small, with the coming of Jesus, it will and has grown far beyond imagination. Reflecting on this reading in the past I have easily shrugged it off thinking: Ya, ya if you have a little faith that is all it takes to grow into a great, big bush of faith.
When I was in high school, my family built our house. I remember spending hour after hour, week after week, year after year, working on our home--framing walls, running wires, plumbing, building cabinets and desks, tiling bathrooms, painting, and so much more. By the end of it, our hard work paid off in the beauty of the design, the craftsmanship, and the integrity that it took to build.
The Lord calls me to obedience so that I may live with joy but do I obey the Lord and firmly root myself in a life with Him? Only when I root myself in obedience to His commands and the demands of His love will I be able to receive the life-giving water that He longs to give me.
If I’m honest with myself, these are the same reasons I find myself not growing in virtue. The Lord has called me out. I must be vigilant, keep watch, and stay awake, not only for the day He comes again, but for what He is calling me to today.
In the Gospel reading for today, we see another instance of Jesus giving those petty Pharisees their daily dose of humility.
You see, I build those same towers with my accomplishments, to-do lists, impatience, and even bitterness towards events or people who I feel stand in the way of my goals.
I am mad, and right now, it’s the only way I know to talk to God.
My invitation to the banquet has nothing to do with my goodness, and everything to do with how loved I am by God.
I had a vision of something brighter. To see it though I had to look beyond the rejection that was smacking me in the face over and over again.
What comes to mind when you think of pride? Is it a co-worker who constantly boasts about his sales accomplishments? An athlete who takes all the credit for his success for himself? Maybe a middle school bully who used to put you down?
I am the type of person that tends to stumble through my day, kind of like a pinball machine, going to and fro, from thing to thing. Pretty typically, by the end of the day, I have to find a chapel to stop all of the to and fro-ness and ask Jesus to help me.
The problem is, any time I’ve tried to live by this popular saying, I’ve been left unsatisfied. Something wasn’t right. Trying to live like I’m dying, like I have limited time on the earth and need to cram in the things I haven’t done, somehow made me more fearful of death.
Obviously it’s natural to vent, complain, even Jesus became frustrated with His disciples at times.
“The devil isn’t here to ruin your day. He is here to ruin your ability to redeem the day. Once he takes that ability away, he steals your access to worthiness. He takes away your knowledge of your God-given gifts so that you can’t change your eternity.”
My friends clearly are living better and more fulfilling lives than I am. I find myself becoming envious of the “perfect lives” I see portrayed and as a result, I spend time and energy focusing on what I don’t have rather than appreciating what I do have. Sometimes, I may not hit the “like” button, even though I know I should.
They were big hands with large calluses. I could tell that they came from hard work. A few even looked like they had been bleeding recently. I looked up at the man receiving Communion and saw the sincerest smile, someone ready to become Christ through the reception of the Eucharist.
When my heart can't handle the sufferings of this world, I weep. I weep at tragedy, at the loss of a loved one, at the brokenness, and at the pain that comes with living. I weep when my husband and I desire a child but another month passes with a negative line on the pregnancy test.
The idea of sitting in adoration for an extended period of time requires me to psych myself up as if I’m about to run a 20 mile race. As frequently as I give friends advice to “take time alone with God” or “pray about it and see what you hear,” it’s advice I’m horrible at accepting. I begin and before long am convincing myself that God wants me to pray by serving others and being joyful in my work.