My dear husband asked me last night why I sent him the article that I referred to in my blog post Will God Protect My Family? . I couldn't answer him. In sending it, I honestly thought everyone had sat in the seat of that atheist and been scared to be a Christian at some point in their life.
It enlightened me to the fact that I'm an oddball. I think a little differently than others. My experiences are not the experiences of others. My thoughts are not the thoughts of others. My feelings are not their feelings. My words do not reflect their life experience.
I think outside of the box and tend to get lost in the woods.
I found it strange that my husband has never been warped with paranoid suspicions that the closer to God you are the more suffering you might endure. But my husband doesn't worry about such things. That is not a cross he's been blessed to carry.
Remember I wrote yesterday:
"I assured them that God did not leave us orphans. He left us the Holy Spirit. And the keys to the kingdom in the hands of St. Peter and a long line of shepherds."
Today those keys are well-oiled in the hands of our current Shepherd.
A quote by Pope Benedict XVI left in the yesterday's comments:
"Are we not perhaps all afraid in some way? If we let Christ enter fully into our lives, if we open ourselves totally to him, are we not afraid that He might take something away from us?" (Read the rest here)
Lucky for me, the Pope understands where I am coming from. There's peace in that.
Lucky for me, I've come to the point in my faith where I understand and accept suffering though I can't fully explain it, certainly don't like it, and, in fact, don't wish to face it. I am not of saint-quality yet. To wish for suffering means to deny my human-ness.
I did assure, encourage, and enforce to those 16 students that if they attempted to meet God halfway, He would not fail their expectations. If they made Sunday Mass, if they made a regular Holy Hour, if they embraced the Sacraments, if they made spiritual reading a part of their week, if they just attempted to embrace their faith; God would meet them halfway.
Again, I can't explain it. I used to shun my faith because I didn't fully understand it. But I made Sunday Mass because that was what our family did. And I made a weekly Holy Hour because of the example of a holy priest who married us. And slowly...oh, so slowly...as I was dragging my poor pathetic feet along the path that Bunyan's pilgrim trudged...God met me halfway. Simply from the graces I received weekly through the Sacraments, I began to accept and understand and fully appreciate my faith.
It's such an easy journey, really. There's nothing complicated about it. There is not one road map for every person, but all roads do lead to Rome. And the Church gives us the vehicles and the gasoline and food for the trip. But we must let Christ take the wheel and be our Navigator.
It enlightened me to the fact that I'm an oddball. I think a little differently than others. My experiences are not the experiences of others. My thoughts are not the thoughts of others. My feelings are not their feelings. My words do not reflect their life experience.
I think outside of the box and tend to get lost in the woods.
I found it strange that my husband has never been warped with paranoid suspicions that the closer to God you are the more suffering you might endure. But my husband doesn't worry about such things. That is not a cross he's been blessed to carry.
Remember I wrote yesterday:
"I assured them that God did not leave us orphans. He left us the Holy Spirit. And the keys to the kingdom in the hands of St. Peter and a long line of shepherds."
Today those keys are well-oiled in the hands of our current Shepherd.
A quote by Pope Benedict XVI left in the yesterday's comments:
"Are we not perhaps all afraid in some way? If we let Christ enter fully into our lives, if we open ourselves totally to him, are we not afraid that He might take something away from us?" (Read the rest here)
Lucky for me, the Pope understands where I am coming from. There's peace in that.
Lucky for me, I've come to the point in my faith where I understand and accept suffering though I can't fully explain it, certainly don't like it, and, in fact, don't wish to face it. I am not of saint-quality yet. To wish for suffering means to deny my human-ness.
I did assure, encourage, and enforce to those 16 students that if they attempted to meet God halfway, He would not fail their expectations. If they made Sunday Mass, if they made a regular Holy Hour, if they embraced the Sacraments, if they made spiritual reading a part of their week, if they just attempted to embrace their faith; God would meet them halfway.
Again, I can't explain it. I used to shun my faith because I didn't fully understand it. But I made Sunday Mass because that was what our family did. And I made a weekly Holy Hour because of the example of a holy priest who married us. And slowly...oh, so slowly...as I was dragging my poor pathetic feet along the path that Bunyan's pilgrim trudged...God met me halfway. Simply from the graces I received weekly through the Sacraments, I began to accept and understand and fully appreciate my faith.
It's such an easy journey, really. There's nothing complicated about it. There is not one road map for every person, but all roads do lead to Rome. And the Church gives us the vehicles and the gasoline and food for the trip. But we must let Christ take the wheel and be our Navigator.
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