10/18/2018 1 Comment Dying, Living, ProclaimingWe had a beautiful night last night. I was moved by your children's prayerfulness, by their willingness to engage in the evening, and by their open hearts. We played games, listened to talks, reflected and journaled, went to Mass, had a candle-lit vigil, and so much more. Our evening was filled with laughter, joy, prayer, and life. We also heard stories of death. We heard stories of ways that sin can hurt us and reflected on where there might be sin hurting us in our own lives. We talked about how "dying" to the parts of us that are sinful and pulling us away from Christ can lead us to new life. And then we talked about how we are called to be heroes in everyday life, and what God is asking us to do with our lives. As I prepared for my talk (about how the Paschal Mystery works in my life; about sinning, suffering, and rising to new life) I reflected that more often than not (in my life, at least) it seems I'm drawn away from God, not by huge, glaring sins that are clearly SINS (like murder or adultery) but by a sin I can only name as a fierce independence. There's nothing wrong with being independent, certainly. I grew up on a farm and my parents raised me telling me that I could become anything I dreamed of being, telling me that I was strong enough, I was smart enough, I was good enough. It's A+ parenting, truly; I have amazing parents. But I've lived my whole life telling myself those things are true; telling myself that when things are hard, I don't need to ask for help, I just have to push through. I tell myself that I am capable of anything I set my mind too, that I can do everything at the same time; I can juggle a schedule and make it through everything on my plate. I've justified my way into all sorts of things, all sorts of situations, with nothing but good intentions, saying this is for the kingdom of God. I've said to myself I can do it all. But the truth is that I can't. Not even close. I cannot tell you the number of times I have started something (often with prayerful consideration) and then I've attacked it. I've worked and I've worked at it, and then I work a little more. I push myself and stretch myself as thin as I possibly can and I find myself stressed, and grumpy, and tired. I get to that point and I just drop. I drop to my knees and I realize that I have been pushing and striving and running a race that I say and believe is for God, without God being in it. It's not to say that God doesn't want me there, it's not to say that He doesn't have plans for me, and it's not to say God was not in the picture. But it is to say that I didn't enter the race with God as my Master, nor even as a partner. And then, late in the game when things are desperate, I start praying. I ask God to show up in my ministry, in my friendships, in my life, and He does. Just like that. Inevitably, He shows up and things get easier, new ways to accomplish things show up, my schedule clears, I find the right words, and my soul can take a deep breath (finally). Without fail, God shows up for me and I am left standing there speechless, in awe of the things He can accomplish if I just stand back for a minute and listen. And I find myself wondering what would have happened if I'd managed to listen along every step of the way. How many struggles could I have saved myself? How many frustrations would have disappeared or been abated? How much more would that project have felt like God's work? How much more joy and peace could I have had? I asked the Edge participants last night to write something they wanted to die to so they could rise to new life with Christ. I told them that even though I wasn't going to ask them to share what they wanted to die to, I would share with them what I was writing on my piece of paper to leave at the foot of the cross. I wrote that I wanted to die to my pride and my independence. I wanted to die to feeling like I have to do everything on my own; feeling like I have to be good enough, and smart enough, and strong enough. The story I told them was from when I was in high school and my first year of college (almost 7 years ago, at this point) but I still struggle with the same sin that keeps me from being as close to God as I want to be. I still struggle to let go of my illusion of control and to just let God. If I'm being honest (and I'm doing my best to be) it seems like this is something a lot of adults struggle with. Is it any wonder Jesus says people with childlike faith will inherit the Kingdom of heaven? For children, believing isn't as hard. God is there, He is good, He loves me, He'll take care of me. Somewhere along the way, we start thinking we have to take care of ourselves. And maybe that's because in a sense we do. We grow up and we move out, suddenly we have a job, we have kids, we have people who depend on us, we have responsibilities and we forget that there is someone who still wants to take care of us. We forget that God never stopped being our loving father who wants to dote on His beloved child, He never stopped wanting to help us and wanting to see us succeed. Maybe you aren't like me. Maybe you pray every step of the way and you know God's got this. Maybe there's something else in your life that is holding you back from the closeness of God. Whatever it is in your life, I invite you to pray and to die to it. I invite you to stop suffering and struggling, let it go and live in the freedom of loving Father who wants you to have life. I pray that God blesses your week and that He gives you an open heart to experience His love in a new way this week. Peace, Michaela
1 Comment
Leah Kondes
10/19/2018 06:22:14 pm
Michaela, thank you for your prayerful leadership of Edge this year! We are blessed to have you.
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