Seeing past the signs

So over the past few weeks, I've been meeting with a few friends to discuss the book "Letters to a Young Catholic." I highly recommend this book to anyone, whether it be a person of the faith or a curious bystander who wants to know more...the book goes very much into depth in different locations where the Catholic faith has taken prominence or has importance. These locations range from a monastery, a shrine, a pub, a neighborhood in Baltimore, MD, and more. Through the locations, the author George Weigel dives into spiritual subjects, using the different areas and the people who have lived in them to describe complex, deep ideas. So far, the book is nothing short of wonderful.

Last night, we were talking about the pub and got on the subject of signs. Before I go into signs, it would be helpful to give a little analogy. Think of a road sign that you see on the highway. The sign is signaling you to keep moving forward towards the end goal, and when we are in a car we generally use that to guide our way. However, we as people don't usually follow signs that we see in life that way. Take, for example, beauty. Beauty is something that people look at and revel in. But beauty...whether it is in nature, in people, in art, in music...beauty is something that is meant to bring us closer to God. It is a "sign" that is showing us towards God and what He has created for us. However, so many times we cut ourselves short and stay at the sign, thinking that just reaching that point is enough. Through the media and general outlook of signs, it is easy to get caught up in the crowd and simply stop short of the destination...to stunt our progress from what we really ought to be seeing.

There is a beautiful story that I think really describes this well. In the early Christian Church, several bishops were gathered outside a cathedral in Antioch, when a beautiful prostitute passed by on the street. Upon noticing her, the crowd of bishops looked away to avoid being seduced. Bishop Nonnus, however, stared intently at her, and then said to his fellow bishops, "Did not the wonderful beauty of that woman delight you?" The bishops remained silent. Nonnus insisted, "Indeed it delighted me," but he wept for her. When the prostitute saw how the bishop looked at her, she was caught off guard. No man had ever looked at her with such purity. He was not lusting after her, but rather saw something in her that she did not even see in herself. The simple purity of that one bishop's glance marked the beginning of her conversion to Christ. She soon returned to find him, and today, we know this former prostitute as St. Pelegia.

Bishop Nonnus saw past the sign to the destination. We all see signs in our life, some that easily point to God, and some that don't seem to point to God at all. It is in the ones in where we don't see God that require us to rethink, revisit, and assess how it DOES lead to Him. I know in my life, I have seen signs that don't require any second guessing as to where God is: education, nature, food, friendship, family, my relationship. But there are other parts of my life where I desperately need to connect the dots and see past the signs for what it is here on earth. Keep the signs of this world in the rearview, and allow the light of God to shine the way into eternal life.

Getting the edge back...

 

Since the year I went through RCIA and got confirmed in the Church (almost at the 7 year mark...whoot woo!! Go Catholics! haha) Lent has never ceased to be an amazing time of transformation for me. In fact, I welcome these 40 days in anticipation of clearing out the cobwebs and getting back to God. I've always been fortunate enough to be surrounded by wonderful people and positive reinforcement during Lent, as well.

  This year, hoping for and preparing for the same experience of this important time in the liturgical year, I have been frustratingly disappointed. Granted, there is nowhere to place blame (although I am frequented downtrodden by the fact that life out here in "anything goes" California has made my faith life more challenging than usual) I just sit here 10 days before Easter feeling no different. All the while I see Francisco having spiritually-enriching discussion at book club, going to the Shrine every morning and living the plan of Lent. I long for that and realize I have done a piss-poor job of seeking God intensely these past 4.5 weeks. It's like I've lost my spiritual edge. I feel this sense of urgency that these 40 days have almost elapsed and once they do my yearly chance to "make things right" and dust myself off, humbling my being before the Lord, will be gone and I will be doomed to a year of funk-on-funk-on-funk. 

   Before you laugh, I realize how ridiculous this sounds. It is never too late to crawl back to God, prayerfully seeking humility and self-denial. Enter the Daniel fast. Because food is such a big part of who I am I decided that I would seek God through my plate. The Daniel fast is meant to do exactly that. A fast of sorts (think vegan/unprocessed/unsweetened) that is biblical in origin and not terribly inconvenient. 21 days of cleansing the body and cleansing the soul. Sure this takes me past Easter Sunday which means no Sunday morning cinnamon rolls but hey, sometimes life doesn't go as planned. Sometimes God wants you to seek him outside the boundaries of time and tradition. I feel like that's where I'm at right now. The drudgery of a secular culture out here, endless obligations that prey on my pride and ego, and a general lack of a spiritual partner in crime have me in need of something more this time...

...so until I find some time to get myself to a weekend retreat I will just have to make room for God in prayer in other ways. 

    After all, it's become entirely too easy in today's fast-paced world of convenience and instant gratification to neglect the matters of the soul and stay in touch with that part of our being that is capable of so much more. The part that God seeks to nourish and cultivate...if we can only step away from the iphone and cereal bowl long enough to listen. 

What are your stones made of?

I came across this article and it absolutely hit home with me tonight. I've really been struggling through Lent and feeling the weight of that proverbially "spiritual desert" with great intensity. (How does this always seem to happen?) I've found myself at absolute odds with my "self" over-analyzing my every success and failure and feeling like I can't move a muscle without absolute self-pride, disgust and/or awareness. This is obviously not living in God's grace, but I've found it even difficult to pray about it because in prayer I seem to just get lost in a cycle of my own highs and lows and forget that I'm even praying. For these Type-A personality episodes I think the article highlights an important thing to remember: "part of the miracle of God is not that I live in perfection, but that the Spirit is somehow bringing all of these parts of me together, refining me, and teaching me how to live with myself." Marching onward and upward through the Lenten season and the stresses of a busy life, I can't imagine more important words for me to remember at the moment.