And over all things, love.

This summer, I forgot that God loved me.

Can't say exactly how it happened. Somewhere in uprooting from my mission home to prepare for a new mission field, in the moment when I was most vulnerable, I found myself lost in a whirlpool of fear. What if I'm an unforgiven sinner? What if I'm not good enough for this life or for heaven? What if, without the constant busyness of service, I have no worth and no purpose? 

And underneath it all, the deepest, cruelest lie that was hiding within the recesses of my heart: 

What if God didn't really love me?

What if?

The haunting emptiness, the darkness that I experienced was like nothing I'd ever known. A loneliness that surpassed all human expression.  I searched unremittingly for answers, for comfort, for reassurance and consolation, but I found none.

And then, the light of the sun shone forth as at the break of dawn: my Jesus had mercy on me. I am weak, I am broken, and because of this, He loves me. He loves me! HE LOVES ME!! I have no need of success, of personal merit -- I claim as my own the merits of His Cross.

The miracle of it all is that Jesus did not allow me to experience such great suffering merely to teach me a lesson for the summer of 2013.  No, He makes all things work together for my good. Memories flood back to me from my childhood, adolescence, and now young adult years -- me being unable to accept His love. Feeling unworthy, unclean. Trying to earn His love through my attempts at perfection. And it was never enough.

And how could it be?? Jesus chose not to shed just one drop of His most Precious Blood, but to spill it ALL, washing over the entirety of the earth, over my sins, over my soul, over all space and all time. It is HIS Blood that saves me, that purifies me, that catches me and draws me up to His Father and my Father in heaven.

I can't say what tomorrow will bring. If this summer has taught me anything, it's that God's ways are inscrutable and not my ways. But I do know that today, and tomorrow, and every day for the rest of eternity, I will be held in His love. And He will never let me go. And that is enough for me.

HE is enough for me.

Why did David dance?

"David and all the house of Israel danced before the Lord with all their might, with singing, and with lyres, harps, tambourines, sistrums, and cymbals." - 2 Sam. 6:5

We are a people of praise. This is not a title to be taken lightly.  Praise is firstly a duty out of justice, something owed to God because He is our Maker.  To give glory to His Name is one of the greatest gifts we can give Him!  But we, too, are blessed when we praise.  Our bodies and our very selves crave this type of worship because it reminds us on some deeper level of who we are -- our identity as children of the Father -- and our place in His creation.

Why did David dance before the Ark of the Covenant? Perhaps because a simple prayer spoken with head bowed and hands folded could not suffice to express the tidal wave of love that was bursting through the walls of his heart at that very moment!  Because the Spirit of the Lord was likely shaking his arms and legs, compelling him to stand and give glory to God with his whole body and soul!  I certainly am not criticizing fervent, contemplative, silent prayer - it, too, is a necessary part of worship - but I would gently question anyone who practices this type of prayer to the exclusion of the other, claiming that it better fits their personality or preferred style of worship. Are we embarrassed to raise our hands to our Father in Heaven because we wonder what others will think of us? Are we too prideful to sing out to our Lord Jesus Christ because our voices are not melodious or pleasing to the human ear?

We can only reach the crux of worship when we stop concentrating on what is "acceptable" according to our own personal and societal norms and instead fix our gaze solidly on the King of Heaven.  When prayer becomes an intimate conversation with Him, when we can gaze upon Him in the midst of the tumult that surrounds us and see only His beauty, feel only His presence, and hear only His words of love, then can we praise Him in true freedom of heart.

"It is good to give thanks to the Lord, to sing praise to Your Name, Most High!" - Ps. 92:2

You ARE called (missionary memories, unpublished 12/2012)

Praise Him for converted hearts and souls made new!  Today I met up with a sophomore girl to help her begin fundraising for SEEK 2013, our FOCUS National Conference.  I first met Lindsey last year at one of our women's nights here at our apartment -- a just-for-fun fellowship event with crafts, snacks, and anything else that would appeal to our girly interests.  Lindsey was truly struggling through her first year of college and in need of real friends.  I offered a listening ear for a short time that evening but quickly forgot all about it.  Months later, after a choir concert, she tapped me on the shoulder and asked if we could get together sometime -- she had a few questions to ask me.  Well, I was quite embarrassed because I couldn't even remember who she was!  But like every skilled missionary, I played it off throughout our short conversation, afterwards hissing at my teammate, "Who WAS that girl??"

I invited Lindsey to lunch at my apartment and she spilled out her story -- growing up in a Catholic home, rebelling against the Faith because she felt "forced" into it, ultimately rediscovering God at a retreat which she attended begrudgingly at the insistence of her loving little brother.  Now she desired only to grow and learn more about Catholicism and this God she had so long denied.

Fast forward to this fall semester: a senior girl I disciple invited Lindsey to be a FOCUS student missionary, and so for the past month or so they have been meeting weekly in discipleship to discuss prayer, evangelization, and the challenges of living as a dynamic Catholic on a college campus.  Today Lindsey admitted to me that she's never been as happy as she is now; touching her hand to her heart, she explained that this is a lasting happiness, not just a fleeting feeling.  Beginning a daily prayer life has been somewhat difficult, but she bashfully explained to me that in a recent prayer period, after silencing her mind, she unexpectedly heard a voice telling her to love and not to condemn others.  She seemed almost shocked at this: was it God speaking to her, or merely her own voice in her head?  I assured her that the Lord does indeed speak with a still small voice, even a whisper.  She was surprised that she could have such an experience so early in her spiritual development, after only praying for a short while.  But I know better -- God works quickly when He is presented with a willing and humble heart.

Lindsey was also proud to tell me about her experience of barehanding "unintentionally."  She had a 45-minute conversation that began simply with her telling a fellow student about her father's large family...which led to the big family=Catholic connection...which, after finding out that he used to be Catholic as well, led her to ask him why he was no longer practicing the Faith.  So often we are turned off by the concept of evangelization, blaming either our own timidity, ignorance of theology, or distaste for the prospect of forcing our beliefs on others.  But true evangelization is nothing more than a conversation which, when spoken in truth and love, inevitably leads back to our God and our hope in Him.

You could say that Lindsey has no particular talent or charisma that would mark her as a student or a teacher of the Faith, and yet she is just one more proof that this duty to evangelize falls on the shoulders of each one of us, whether or not we consider missions our "day job." But first we must sit with Jesus in the classroom of silence, allowing Him to work in our own hearts and shape us into something new.  We must pray for many, many more to hear and answer the call to holiness and to live the life for which we were created.

Come, Lord Jesus, send us Your Spirit, and renew the face of the earth!

All my love

Counting down the days to the bitter end...or as my team director says, it's all over but the weeping.  Finals week is upon us, final coffee dates and lunches have been penciled in, departing conversations and letters and hugs and memories to be made.

Questions arise in my mind - did I do enough? did I say what needed to be said? did I love as I should have loved?  Names of girls I wanted to invest in and never had the chance to do so.  Seemingly "failed" relationships or attempts to spark a conversion.  The dreams of a missionary.

Daydreaming about the past two years, where I've been and how I've grown.  Dreams for the future, looking ahead at the long road in front of me.

Desires arise in my heart, not to be stifled but to bring to the foot of the cross. This too, my Jesus, I offer up to You.  Everything is Yours.

True love on Christmas Day

Throughout our spiritual lives, it seems there are moments when a little of the veil is lifted from our eyes and we suddenly see more clearly.  Sometimes I call them epiphanies, sometimes they come when I'm deep in prayer, but at other times they are more of an evolution, a slow unraveling of my own mistaken ideas and simultaneous materializing of God's truth.

What I have noticed over the years is that I can always go deeper -- that even when I believe I have finally reached a full understanding of love, or faith, or trust in God's promise, I have in fact only scratched the surface.  And thus you will find me months or years later once again proclaiming to have experienced an epiphany on this same subject.

In high school, I thought I knew how to "save myself" for marriage.  I understood only a physical sense of chastity, while my mind and emotions ran wild with diaphanous dreams of my perfect mate.

In college, I abandoned all feminine dignity and discretion (at least in the presence of my journal) and penned heartsick letters to the object(s) of my affections -- a case study in unrequited love.

Then I learned for the first time of emotional chastity, and my life was forever changed.  But 5+ years of damage to my heart and mind had yet to be undone.  I still pined after young men, and then pined over my poor heart which was no longer permitted to dwell on such matters.  The year of my dating fast, I tried desperately to embrace my temporary vocation to the single life of a missionary and to chase away all romantic daydreams and overly friendly thoughts of the opposite sex.  And it worked...to an extent.

Coming off the dating fast was another story.  The first few months were a torment for me.  I realized I had never had a "healthy relationship" with my feminine desires regarding my need to be loved, cared for, and understood.  During my fast, I learned the light switch approach -- when thoughts arise, turn them off immediately, no questions asked.  This was a temporary fix, but one that was no longer effective once my fast had ended and I had discerned my call to marriage.  If God desired for me to one day enter into holy matrimony, casting out all romantic notions of marriage would surely hinder any potential for a relationship that He had planned for me.

And somehow, in the midst of my confusion and distress, God revealed to me His love.  That which is greater than any poet could express or any songwriter could put to music.  That we even exist is proof of His love, but the truth of the Incarnation greatly surpasses all other gifts we have been given.  For God so loved the world...

If I have been so loved, if God has from the first moment of creation chosen me to be His daughter, His littlest missionary, how can I refuse?  And it is in this spirit that I no longer complain about my singlehood, sigh over lost loves and forgotten hearts, or glance with jealous eyes at the "perfect" lives of my young married friends.  I have been given the perfect life -- a life in Christ.  I have joy because I am following His will.  I have found fulfillment in Him alone.

I am honored that He has selected me from among many to serve Him in this capacity, to give of my life and my very self in order that others might come to know and love Him.  He has granted me the desires of my heart -- to be loved, cared for, understood.

How beautiful that the Church has chosen Isaiah 62 for the Christmas Eve reading:

"You shall be called by a new name which the mouth of the Lord will give.  You shall no more be termed Forsaken, and your land shall no more be termed Desolate; but you shall be called My delight is in her, and your land Married; for the Lord delights in you."

"What if the good God wants me?  I am His and His only.  The rest has no hold on me.  I can do without all the rest if I have Him."  ~Blessed Teresa of Calcutta

Surviving, Not Thriving: Part 1

It's hard to be an adult.  True, I'd take this life any day over that of a child.  I love the feeling of having grown, overcome obstacles, learned lessons.  But how dearly I long to be taken care of, cared for by another.

One of my mentees expressed it well when she said, "I just want to dependent again."  Feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders, she longs for the comfort of home, parents to care for her and siblings who know and love her for who she is, not what she can do.

I broke down this week.  There.  I said it.  Rebecca, the missionary girl who has all her ducks in a row, who needs Jesus and nothing else in this life, lost it completely on Tuesday at approximately 11:54am.  A month straight of work with no real weekend to speak of, failing to take care of myself physically and emotionally, and what do I have to show for it but a nasty cold compounded by sleep deprivation and a decaying tooth in need of a crown.  Nice one.  It's clear I can't even hold it together.

And it shows in my ministry, too.  Students asking me repeatedly if I'm okay, telling me I look awful, tired, or awfully tired.  Conversations no longer seem as fruitful as they once were.  I can tell interiorly because girls will be in the midst of telling me a story and I realize I've completely tuned them out, continuing to nod with that knowing expression that I can fake so well.  It scares me how proficient I am at this and how ignorant they are of what is or isn't going on inside my head.  My prayer life, too, has suffered on and off.  It's hard to pinpoint because on one hand I'm having to trust more in the Lord as I can feel my life hurtling downward, but at the same time I'm struggling to listen for His voice when I can't even keep my eyes open.

The moral of the story?  I'm still in the middle of it, trying to figure it all out, but I think it comes down to the fact that I am not God.  I. Am. Not. God.  I can save neither myself nor anyone else.  Praise Jesus for being my Savior, because I'm doing a lousy job of it on my own.

Well this turned out to be a more depressing post than I anticipated.  It sounds like volume one of a two- (or three, or four) part series.  I have so much left to work through, but not alone.  I've learned that at least, that I am powerless without Him.  So let it rain, Lord.  Open the floodgates of heaven!  Come into my heart today.  Pour Your Spirit into me, that I may LIVE.

Restless spirit

I'm missing a dear friend.  He's closer than a brother, he's hundreds of miles away, and I don't know when I'll next see him.  In fact, given his current vocational discernment, it's likely that he'll join a religious order in the next few years and move out of the country, postponing our next meeting until we get to heaven.

That's a terribly sad truth that I'm trying to grapple with as I simultaneously attempt to figure out my foggy future.  I believe this next year will be my last as a FOCUS missionary.  I love the apostolate and greatly appreciate all it has done for me, and hats off to all those "lifers" who intend to continue this as their permanent vocation.  It is not mine.  I am made for relationship, firstly with my Lord but also within the context of a family.  I can feel God preparing my heart for marriage and having children.  It is nearly impossible for me to be patient in this moment, when all I want to do is dive into that messy and beautiful life.

I struggle with trusting Him, but isn't our God wise?  He gives me no other option but to sink or swim.  I can either melt into a pit of anxiety, trying to control everything in my grasp, or I can allow Him to be the Master Architect of my future.

For the past few weeks, I've chosen the former, and I've been slowly but steadily sinking.  O Lord, give me the strength to choose to trust You.  Because I need to.  Because You have asked me to.

Jesus, I trust in YOU!!!