He Loves the Mess You Are

Lent begins this week — the spiritual gift of the Church that is a season of paring away the things that cloud our souls in order to see more clearly how much God loves us. We enter into the season by raising our heads to the marking of ashes.

Remember, man, that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.

Remember that we are but crumbled matter. We are broken and fragile. We are ruined. We have struggled and sinned and fallen and pulled others down with us. We are each our own mess. Dust. We are dust.

But out of dust He formed us, and He breathed life into us. He gave us shape, and He shaped our souls. The Creator literally loved the dust of us into being. He did it the first day we first became alive, and He has done it every single day since then. 

Lent brings us face to face with the grim reality of our sin. It brings into sharp focus all the contours of the ruins of our life. We can deny the reality of Lent. We can live the whole season without letting it genuinely, tangibly touch us. We can go through the motions without letting the liturgy change us. 

Or we can let it sink deep into our being. We can let the dust be stirred and notice how we are both: We are sinners, and we are saved. We are fallen, and we are loved. At the beginning of Lent, we can be distracted by “what we’re giving up.” The question is asked and plans are made, and it all sounds like a revision of New Year’s resolutions. Don’t be limited by what you’re giving up; don’t stop at the sacrifice. The real question isn’t what we’re giving up; it’s “how did I wander away from God, and how do I get back?” The essence of Lent is that we are the prodigal (or maybe we are his brother), and we both need the forgiving Father. 

Give up whatever is blocking the path home. Give up the voice in your head that says you are beyond help. Give up the notion that you have to earn your way home. You don’t. Just return to the Father. He loved you from the time you were dust. He still loves you today, despite your dirt.

Lent is about letting the Creator make us new. If we embrace Lent and we live it fully, we see that we are ruined. We count our sins, and we remind ourselves again that without Him, we mess up. An entire season of repentance gives us time to take a complete inventory of the dark places in our souls. 

Perhaps more importantly, an entire season of repentance doesn’t leave us in a place of self-recrimination. Instead, it gives us ample time to see both how wrecked we are and how much God loves us anyway. The liturgy of the season — listen to it — draws us into the everlasting truth that God loves us even in our dirtiest, dustiest state. He loves us deeply and wholly just as we are.

He love us there, but He doesn’t leave us there. He picks us up, dusts us off, and breathes into us a new life.

Glorify the Lord by Your Life

THINK

Go in peace, glorifying the Lord by your life.

(Dismissal, Roman Missal, Third Edition, This option was composed by Pope Benedict XVI)

PRAY

Dear Lord, as I go about my daily round, allow me to rest in your peace, to be at peace with You and with the people you bring into my life. Let that peace be the foundation upon which I act. Let me go forth, confident in your love for me and let me be the real and tangible presence and action of that love to others.

ACT

Today, consider the dismissal as a little examen to be used throughout your day. Are you resting in the peace of Christ, or are you wresting control away from Him? Are you sharing your faith, the Gospel readily apparent in your life? Does God's glory shine through even the most mundane moments? How about the most frustrating ones? 

We are commissioned to GO! At the end of every Mass, no matter which dismissal option is used, we are sent forth into the world to live as Christ wherever we are called. We each have a mission to live a life of Christian disciples. Further, we have a mission to make Christian disciples of all nations (Matthew 28:9). Or maybe just of all the people living under our own roofs for right now.

~*~*~*~

Motherhood can feel like the loneliest vocation in the world. Surrounded by children, who frequently bring us to our knees, both literally and figuratively, we can be overwhelmed by isolation. Mothers need community. We can be community for one another. We can encourage on another and hold each other accountable. If you like these short devotions, please share the image and send another woman here. And when you're here, please take a moment to pray with another mother who is visiting. Leave a comment and when you do, pray for the woman whose comment is just above yours. Just a moment--blessed--will begin to build community.

I like to pray when I run in the morning. Often, I listen to Divine Office and pray Morning Prayer or the Office of Readings. Then, I just take up a conversation with God. I'd love to pray for you! Please leave your prayer requests below and we can pray for each other, no matter how we spend our morning prayer time. Meet me back here tomorrow and I'll share the ponderings from my #morningrun.

the real antidote to spiritual destitution

THINK

The Gospel is the real antidote to spiritual destitution: wherever we go, we are called as Christians to proclaim the liberating news that forgiveness for sins committed is possible, that God is greater than our sinfulness, that He freely loves us at all times and that we were made for communion and eternal life. --Pope Francis

PRAY

Dear Lord, As Lent begins, I place all my intentions at the foot of your cross. I want to "do this well." Please take from me that want and replace it with the sincere acknowledgement that I am nothing without You. I believe that forgiveness is possible and that your love is greater than my sinfulness. I believe that in Your Word there is hope and truth and pardon and peace. Let me steep in the true Love of the gospel. Help me to grow in the gospel during this Lenten season. Bring me back, God. Inspire in me true contrition, true repentance--and let my entire life be a witness to the truth of the Good News. 

ACT

Ash Wednesday can feel like New Year's Day. Firm commitments made for Lent can look a lot like resolutions made as the calendar year begins. Our Lenten commitments deserve a sharper focus. Lent is about returning to the Father. What we give up, what we do extra--they are to serve one purpose: to bring us back to Him, to restore us to His will for us. Lent is about remembering that He breathed us into being and He loves us unconditionally. All the things that pass between our beginnings in His hands and our return to the earth are dependent upon the one, true God. He's in it all. He gives it life. He gives us life--again and again and again every day. Our Lenten sacrifices need to sting a little, to require some struggle. They need to make us cry out to Him for grace sufficient. Over. And over. And over. Lent is habit training in dependency. Without Him, we are nothing. With Him, we are and we have everything. Let this Lent be about knowing Him. Seek Him earnestly in the Word. Become intimate with the love letters there. And, confident in who He is and how He loves, let this Lent be about asking for His grace for every step and knowing that His grace is enough.

Right here, Right now.

THINK

"For if you keep silent at this time, relief and deliverance will rise for the Jews from another place, but you and your father's house will perish. And who knows whether you have not come to the kingdom for such a time as this?" Esther 4:14

PRAY

Show me, Jesus. Show me what you would have me do right here, right now, in this time and place where I find myself. You know me. You know where I am. I am here in this part of your Kingdom for just such a time. Use me right here, today.

ACT

When Colleen and I first started meeting together in the Lord--oh about 9 years ago--she was in a rural Louisiana home and I was about an hour outside Washington DC in certain suburbia. Our lives seemed different from each other, but also very similar. Back then, one of the stark differences was that she had Sonic Drive-thru nearby and I didn't, but the commercials played on the television and radio here. That meant that I still had Sonic ice cravings when I was pregnant, but couldn't act upon them. The struggle was real, my friends.

Then Colleen moved to Costa Rica and embraced 24/7, 365 days a year mission life. And our lives looked starkly different. Over the past few years, we've had lots of conversations about those differences. Sometimes, it's hard not to feel guilty that my mission is here and I am not immediately in danger of poisonous snakes or bugs or an active volcano. Colleen is. I don't serve indigenous women who walk countless miles through the jungle for basic maternity care. Colleen does.

What is the time for which I was born? This one. Here and now in northern Virginia. This is my place and this is my moment. And every day there are opportunities for works of mercy. Sometimes--often, really--there are chances for heroic acts of faith. They just look different here. The needy don't look so materially needy. The wounds are mostly hidden, deep beneath lovely clothes and perfectly manicured fingernails. I cannot put the pictures of these women on Facebook and ask for prayers. The piece of the Kingdom of God that has been entrusted to me is one of relative affluence. I remind myself daily that it it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God. (Matthew 19:24)

But God calls them. He wants them. He is waiting to heal them. These are souls in peril. I was born for a time such as this. Today, on the soccer field, in the grocery store, in the carpool pick-up line, be Christ to someone else. Someone who might not look sorrowful or suffering, but who has wounds only He can bind. Be the hands that heal in Christ, no matter where you find yourself in the Kingdom of God.

~*~*~*~

Motherhood can feel like the loneliest vocation in the world. Surrounded by children, who frequently bring us to our knees, both literally and figuratively, we can be overwhelmed by isolation. Mothers need community. We can be community for one another. We can encourage on another and hold each other accountable. If you like these short devotions, please share the image and send another woman here. And when you're here, please take a moment to pray with another mother who is visiting. Leave a comment and when you do, pray for the woman whose comment is just above yours. Just a moment--blessed--will begin to build community.

I like to pray when I run in the morning. Often, I listen to Divine Office and pray Morning Prayer or the Office of Readings. Then, I just take up a conversation with God. I'd love to pray for you! Please leave your prayer requests below and we can pray for each other, no matter how we spend our morning prayer time. Meet me back here tomorrow and I'll share the ponderings from my #morningrun.

I want to be all in for God

THINK

My God, I choose all. I do not want to be a saint by halves. I am not afraid to suffer for you. I fear only one thing--that I should keep my own will. So take it, for I choose all that you will.

--St. Therese

PRAY

It's such a hard prayer to pray sometimes, Jesus: the one the that says, "I'm not afraid to suffer for you." Give me the courage to pray it and the grace to suffer well, in the small, daily trials and the big, scary tribulations. Let me be a saint with every breath. Let me be all in for you.

ACT

In the everyday clamor and chaos--whether the frustrating child or the incessant dinging of your inbox--know that you are given graces aplenty for your vocation. Ask for them! Then, embrace the struggle and remind yourself that, really, this life is not a bad way to suffer at all.