LOVE has no denomination.
DURING prayer today, a word came to me…
It is no longer the eleventh hour. It is midnight.
Later on around noon, a group of women prayed over Fr. Kyle Dave and I. As they did, the church bell tolled 12 times.
AT MORNING Mass, the Lord began speaking to me about “detachment”…
Attachment to things, people, or ideas keeps us from being able to soar like an eagle with the Holy Spirit; it muddies our soul, preventing us from perfectly reflecting the Son; it fills our heart with other-ness, rather than with God.
And so the Lord wishes us to be detached from all inordinate desires, not to keep us from pleasure, but to enrole us in the joy of heaven.
I also understood more clearly how the Cross is the only Way for the Christian. There are many consolations in the beginning of the sincere Christian journey–the “honeymoon”, so to speak. But if one is to progress into the deeper life toward union with God, it requires a self-renunciation–an embrace of suffering and self-denial (we all suffer, but what a difference when we permit it to put to death self-will).
Didn’t Christ already say this?
Unless a grain of what falls to the ground and dies, it remains just a grain of wheat; but if it dies, it produces much fruit.–John 12:24
Unless the Christian embraces the crosses of life, he’ll remain an infant. But if he dies to himself, he will produce much fruit. He will grow into the full stature of Christ.
FROM the first night of the St. Gabriel, LA parish mission:
Pope John Paul II seemed to speak as the eternal optimist — the glass was always half full. Pope Benedict, at least as a Cardinal, tended to see the glass half empty. Neither of them was wrong, for both views were rooted in reality. Together, the glass is full.
TODAY’s best line on the tour bus (writing from St. Gabriel, Louisiana):
Mommy, I lost my gum!
Where is it Greg?
In Levi’s mouth!
JESUS continues to send me to near empty churches… but there is at least one lost sheep in attendance. This I am sure of.
Which of you men, if you had one hundred sheep, and lost one of them, wouldn't leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness, and go after the one that was lost, until he found it?–Luke 15:4
AT times God seems so far away…
But He is not. Jesus promised to remain with us until the end of the age. Rather, I think there are times when He draws so near in His transfigured brightness, that one’s soul squints until it closes its eyes. Thus, we think we’re in the dark, but we are not. The soul is blinded by Love itself.
There are other times also when the sense of abandonment comes because of adverse trials. This too is a form of Christ’s love, for in permitting this particular cross, He is also preparing for us a tomb from which to rise.
And what is supposed to die? Self-will.
BUT can we really fly to heaven on just the lift of faith (see yesterday’s post)?
No, we must also have wings: charity, which is love in action. Faith and love work together, and normally one without the other leaves us earthbound, chained to the gravity of self-will.
But love is the greatest of these. Wind cannot lift a pebble from the ground, and yet, a jumbo fuselage, with wings, can soar to the heavens.
And what if my faith is weak? If love, expressed in service to one’s neighbour is strong, the Holy Spirit comes as a mighty wind, lifting us when faith cannot.
If I have faith to move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing.–St. Paul, 1 Cor 13
FAITH is not believing because we have proof; faith is trusting when we’ve run out of proof. –Regina concert, March 13, 2006
Consolations, warm feelings, spiritual experiences, visions, etc. are all like fuel to get one down the runway. But that invisible thing called faith is the only force which can lift one toward heaven.
LAST night as I looked up at the moon, a thought burst into my mind. The heavenly bodies are analogies of another reality…
Mary is the moon which reflects the Son, Jesus. Though the Son is the source of light, Mary reflects Him back to us. And surrounding her are countless stars–Saints, illuminating history with her.
At times, Jesus seems to "disappear," beyond the horizon of our suffering. But He has not left us: at the moment He seems to vanish, Jesus is already racing toward us on a new horizon. As a sign of His presence and love, He has also left us His Mother. She does not replace the life-giving power of her Son; but like a careful mother, she lights the darkness, reminding us that He is the Light of the World… and to never doubt His mercy, even in our darkest moments.
After I received this "visual word", the following scripture raced by like a shooting star:
A great sign appeared in the sky, a woman clothed with the sun, with the moon under her feet, and on her head a crown of twelve stars.–Revelations 12:1