Just when do I get there?

Friday, Feb. 20, 2015

Last weekend it was brought home to me that not only haven’t I progressed down the trail of my faith journey, I haven’t even left the parking lot.

At Saturday’s leadership retreat, Glenmary Missioner Father Les Schmidt repeated over and over again that as leaders, as Catholics, as followers of Christ, we need to move past focusing on ourselves and give our attention to others. 

“It’s all about me” is where most people start their faith journey, Fr. Schmidt said, but if that’s where you end up “your life is a disaster; your discipleship hasn’t even begun because your discipleship is becoming ever more and more like God.”

 Well, then, mine’s a disaster; just count how many times in the previous three paragraphs the words “I,” “me,” “my” and “mine” appear.

My (there it is again!) only excuse is that I know I’m still at the starting line. There’s so much that I don’t know, so many questions I have. 

Another reflection of my neophyte standing came at Sunday’s Mass at the Cathedral of the Madeleine in honor of the Year of Consecrated Life, during which the religious order women and men who serve in our diocese were recognized. As Bishop Wester pointed out, the service these sisters, brothers and priests give to Christ “is not grounded in a superficial relationship with him, but a deep embrace of Christ.”

I admire those who have dedicated their lives to God, and want to be more like them, but I think “maybe in the same room with him” is a better description of my relationship with Christ than “deep embrace.”

It’s not that I haven’t been working on this relationship. I started reading the Bible and a book of daily meditations, I regularly attend Sunday Mass. Going through the motions is comparatively easy, but I can’t say I’ve become more holy because of it. I’ve learned some, but whether I’ve improved my relationship with God is another question. Having a friendship with another human being is hard enough when you can have an actual conversation, see the other person, give them a hug. How do you become friends with an entity you can’t see, hear or feel? 

According to everything I’ve read and every priest I’ve talked to, the answer to that question is “prayer,” but how am I supposed to know if I’m praying in a way God will hear me; and how am I supposed to know if he’s speaking to me, if he doesn’t use words? When do I get to the point where I know, really know, that God is in my life, so that I can stop focusing on my own shortcomings and start feeling that I have something to offer others? 

Pope Francis, in his Lenten message this year, offers the assurance that each one of us has a place in God’s heart, that he’s not indifferent to us. Among the Holy Father’s suggestions for Lent are two that may help answer my questions. First, he suggests praying “Make our hearts like yours (Litany of the Sacred Heart of Jesus). In this way we will receive a heart which is firm and merciful, attentive and generous, a heart which is not closed, indifferent or prey to the globalization of indifference.” 

He also advises partaking of the sacraments, “especially the Eucharist. There we become what we receive: the Body of Christ.”

 Basically, the pope’s telling me to keep doing what I’m doing, so I will. It’d just really help to have some kind of sign to know that I’ve at least set foot on the right path.