Marriage.. why for.

Dating, love, marriage. Ah.

I’m a super indecisive person. About almost everything.

Making decisions isn’t really my thing – I don’t find myself often with preferences for one thing over another. It makes life easy for me, though I suspect frustrating for some of those around me. So I’m working on it…

Anyways.

I think this ends up as a pretty big blessing, for it’s with ease that I pray “Lord have your way” – relieved of the responsibility of making many a decision.

I obviously don’t mean to advocate for sitting around doing nothing until lightening strikes. Instead I set out in a direction that, to the best of my discernment, is God’s will. But I don’t stop asking for His will to be done, acknowledging that His prompting at any time could change the path I’ve set before me.

Just as that’s been my prayer for school, careers, ministry and friendship – so too has it been the prayer of my vocation. Marriage or single life, religious life or not, I desire happiness and holiness – and I’m convinced that they are found in following God’s specific plan for my life.

Anyways, recently someone asked me why I wanted to get married. And I realized, with surprise, I didn’t have a quick answer.

But eventually I did.

[Ctrl C + Ctrl V]

I want to get married because I want to go to Heaven. And I believe it's God's will for me to get married.

Sometime last year, I wondered what kind of vocation God had for me, be it religious or marriage or single life - and then one Sunday in Mass, when one of the readings was Ephesians 5:22 onwards, I felt a keen awareness that I would be married. There have been a couple times in my life when God has assured me that something is true, and this was one of those times. It's not really a romantic answer.

At the end of the day, my hope is to go to heaven. And sometimes I think that appears to take meaning away from things that happen on the Earth... as though I'm "using" the Sacrament of marriage to obtain a greater good. Perhaps I am. I guess that's sort of how it is with all the Sacraments.. they contain beauty and abundance in and of themselves.. but their sort of overarching goal is to get us to Heaven. I don't think the Sacrament of marriage is too different from that. I think it's an opportunity to become Holy... and to learn to love like Jesus loves. I think it also holds a promise of joy and companionship... but you're right... that can't be enough. Because if the day after I get married - my spouse gets in a disabling car accident or suffers a major stroke - my purpose and intention for marriage can't suddenly be wiped away. And if all I hoped for or desired was babies and good conversation, then my hopes would be crushed. But if I aspire for Holiness, then come hell or high water, nothing external can strip my vocation of its purpose.

So, yes – if Jesus says my path of least resistance to Heaven is through marriage, then I want to get married!

The physical presence…

... of a human being compares to little.

And when they’re not close, I feel their absence.

I don’t really understand why… given that little of my close relationships are based on physical touch.
Yet, when those I love are far from me, I genuinely miss them.

I find this hard to explain since technology now makes almost anything possible
I can see them
I can hear them
I can talk to them
… but it’s just not quite the same.

And when they return, we share an embrace, sure, but it’s their ongoing physical presence that brings me comfort… joy… delight.

Yesterday was one such day when I found myself wishing I was in the company of a certain someone.
Incidentally, that very morning in prayer, I had asked the Lord for a greater understanding of the Eucharist.

And so it was that on this Sunday, when we celebrate the feast of Corpus Christi – a pretty clear parallel began to sketch itself out.

It remains a thought without full understanding – but I think it’s right

Though I can talk to and even see those distant from me in real time, it doesn’t compare to the relationship we share when we’re together. And I think it’s the same with Jesus. I can seek Him in prayer in the quiet of my room, and it’s just as legitimate a way of knowing him as a phone call is with a friend. Our interaction is real.

But I think He offers more – I don’t think our experience of Jesus on this Earth is meant to be limited to a phone call. He offers us abundance… through prayer before the Blessed Sacrament, and through receiving Him in the Eucharist – we enjoy a physical, tangible relationship with our Saviour.

And the value of this is clear.

Just as we find greater satisfaction in our earthly relationships when they become tangible, so too is our relationship with Jesus enhanced by our physical experience of Him.

Happy feast of Corpus Christi!

Exothermy...

In chemistry, I think there are two kinds of chemical reactions. There are ones that REQUIRE energy to proceed and there are ones that RELEASE energy at their completion. The former are called endothermic, and the latter exothermic.

I think that’s how it works.

And I think exothermic reactions are the more favourable ones, whereby, when two molecules meet – they require nothing else to proceed and will spontaneously react, releasing energy. (contrasted with the less favourable endothermic collision, that will not proceed unless heat/energy is supplied)

Chemistry.

I often find it a bit hard to explain what happens to and in me when I receive the Eucharist. I don’t find it particularly easy to articulate why receiving Jesus is different than just knowing Him in prayer.

But this is my new thought.

As a baptized, confirmed, practicing Catholic, the Holy Spirit dwells within me. And then when I receive Jesus in the Eucharist – well, there’s no doubt that their meeting is a favourable interaction. And through their interaction, which I think is best identified as love, instead of releasing heat, they release grace. And that grace transforms me, strengthens me, and makes me new.

The Trinity.

Rules? I don't think so...

I have a friend who vehemently disagrees with reading instruction manuals. I was helping her set up her apartment one day, which necesarily included some do-it-yourself furniture from IKEA, and there I came to appreciate the value of the aforementioned instructions.

So we had a couple options we might pursue in order to acheive this end. We could read the enclosed, step-by-step instructions or we could try and figure out how to assemble her desk ourselves. Thinking we were a couple of bright university students, we chose the latter.

2 hours later, we re-visited our starting point and chose the former. And within 25 minutes, her desk was up and running..


I'm often told that the faith that I ascribe to is a long list of rules. I'm told it's restrictive. I'm told it's an assault on my freedom.
Interesting, I say.

But I do disagree.

I don't think it's rules. I think it just makes sense.

In the assembly of furniture, if the instructions are neglected, you end up with a consumer newly acquainted with their purchase, bumbling around trying to create something that maybe they've seen a couple times on display in the store.
To me, this makes little sense when, included in the package, are detailed instructions on how the product is best assembled. Intuitively, it makes sense that if the designer has included directions, they will provide the path of least resistance to the desired end.

I think the same holds true when we talk about the purportedly restrictive rules the Church has ever espoused. The Church has no hidden agenda - she gains very little from the obedience of her congregation. More often that not, her teachings result in persecution rather than pleasure. And yet she continues to espouse them.

Because they make sense.

See, if I believe that I have been uniquely crafted by God, and if I also believe that He has not only created me, but also set before me guidelines within which to live my life (communicted through His Church), then I naturally I think it logical to follow them - or at the very least, to give them the time of day. So quickly today the teachings of the Church are easily dismissed on the basis of being old-fashioned, or just because they depart from the norm of society today. But before they can be dismissed, I think they need to be tested.

In my 22 years of life, I've lived a life in line with the Church's teachings, and I've lived a life that rejects her instruction. And I say without hesitation that the former has brought me exceedingly more joy, peace and warmth-in-my-soul satisfaction than the latter.

And this really shouldn't come as much of a surprise.

The One who has created us, and placed in our hearts a deep desire for happiness, for real joy, knows what it is that will fill us. Our God has not rejected the superfluous pleasures of society so that we would lead lives of misery. It is such the opposite. He has seen how they tease the spirit. He has seen the brokeness that's left when they're gone. He knows the high they provide - but He also knows the depth of the residual low.

And He demands better for His beloved.

So we're called to a life pursuant of everlasting joy. The road map has been set before us by the Church. It isn't meant to oppress us, and it certainly isn't meant to lead us through lives of misery. The Church espouses a life of freedom. It encourages a self-discipline that allows the human person to take control of their own lives, to be free from the slavery of our passions; discerning that, when we experience this freedom, we will find great joy.

As a human family, we are all walking this life looking for happiness. We can either bumble our way around and hope to one day end up there - or we can recognize the treasure of the Church's teachings and jump on the express train.

Muscles of love

Everyone has muscle. You’re born with it. You develop it as you grow from an infant to a toddler and a toddler to a teen. But everyone has a different muscle mass. And to a large extent, the amount of muscle we have is based on the choices we make and the lifestyle we live.

I had a friend go in to the hospital for surgery last year. Her stay ended up being extended due to some complications that landed her bedridden in the ICU for a couple days. She recovered fully (praise God) and when we were later talking about her experience, one of the first things she mentioned was how her strength was significantly altered when she left the hospital. See, if we don’t use our muscles, if we lie in bed all day long – whether by choice or by circumstance – our body thinks it a waste to divert a larger than necessary amount of oxygen and nutrients to muscles we aren’t using. And so they begin to shrink , to atrophy, and we lose some of our visible muscle mass and functional strength.

The opposite, of course, happens when we exercise. When stress is placed on your muscles, they break down. And then tomorrow, they are re-built to be stronger than they were originally. And the more you stress them, the bigger and stronger they become. It’s not an irreversible process though, and so, when you take an extended break from whatever form of resistance training you may have been doing, your muscles will lose some of their acquired strength.

The efficiency of the body!

I think our capacity to love is much like the strength of a muscle.

We have choices in our love. We can choose to just love when it’s convenient. To offer a smile or a helping hand when it’s easy. But that’s a pretty superficial, self-serving kind of love. It doesn’t challenge our natural inclinations. It doesn’t cost us anything. It puts no strain on our heart. And so our ability to love doesn’t get stronger. Nope, I think that as we accustom ourselves to love in this way, we begin to teach our heart a pattern. And our ability to love sort of shrivels up.

I think the opposite happens too. There are people in this world who choose to love sacrificially on a daily basis. And it brings them great joy. They are constantly rebelling against the natural inclinations of their fallen flesh. They give up their own desires that they might fulfill the needs of another. They challenge their seemingly feeble selves, until one day they are no more the frail heart they once were. They are constantly breaking down their weak muscle, only to find it stronger the next day. And so, just as over time, we can go from lifting 10lbs to lifting 30lbs – so too, with time and use, our capacity to love is expanded.

When John Paul II was shot – he was able to go with peace and forgive the man who wanted him dead. Did he receive that grace overnight? Unlikely.
I’m more inclined to believe it was his lifetime of selfless service to his flock and the whole world that prepared him.

We won’t all be shot. But we will all find ourselves in situations where our ability to love is challenged. And I think we will only be able to respond generously if that has been the practice of our daily lives. Whether in friendships, relationships or family ties – it is our mandate to love. A la 1 Corinthians 13:4-7.

Mortal sin – here we gooooo

Mortal sin is tough. Straight up.

I think it’s hard to reconcile the notion of an all-loving, ever-loving God with the existence of Hell. I think this is in part due to our present day notion that we deserve things – our sense of entitlement if you will.
So it’s kind of hard for us to accept that heaven shouldn’t be handed to us on a silver platter.

I think the truth is that we are blessed beyond our knowledge. And part of that blessing is our free will.

I’m not that smart - But the Church is.
Soooo here’s what she has to say…

1861 Mortal sin is a radical possibility of human freedom, as is love itself. It results in the loss of charity and the privation of sanctifying grace, that is, of the state of grace. If it is not redeemed by repentance and God's forgiveness, it causes exclusion from Christ's kingdom and the eternal death of hell, for our freedom has the power to make choices for ever, with no turning back. However, although we can judge that an act is in itself a grave offense, we must entrust judgment of persons to the justice and mercy of God.
- Catechism of the Catholic Church

So mortal sin is a big deal.
It’s a huge deal.

It’s also kind of hard to accept – that a single, voluntary action of grave nature committed with full knowledge can keep us from inheriting the eternal Kingdom our Father has prepared for us.

Sooooo when things are hard to understand – I find myself looking for comparables in this world.
Here’s one.

I think mortal sin is like this…
I once heard a priest explain how or why it could be possible, using the example of a man who jumps off a bridge. He doesn’t have to jump 10 times to die – it only takes one moment, one choice, and his life on Earth is over. So Father Larry suggested that, in the same way, a single action on this Earth can have that same degree of eternal consequence.

I’d like to slightly modify that…
I think when we commit a mortal sin – it’s as though we jump out of a helicopter in to the ocean.
The ocean breaks our fall, and we survive for the moment.
The helicopter then throws a rope out, reaching down to pull us to safety.
And so we remain in the water – with a choice.
A choice to grab a hold of the rope and be pulled back to safety, or a choice to fight to stay afloat in the water as long as we are able to tread water, but then eventually to tire and die.

Our God is a God of endless mercy. His rope is strong. His call is unending.
He beckons us to choose Him. To trust Him. To hang on to the rope He extends – and He guarantees our safety.

I believe the rope He offers us is the gift of Reconciliation – the Sacrament of Confession.

He doesn’t ask for gold or silver; for your happiness or for your possessions – but just for a repentant heart. He calls us to the confessional where His tender mercy is overflowing from the mouth of His minister.

The gift of Reconcilliation is the lifeline that will be present for the rest of your life and mine.
We can struggle and fight on our own in the waters of sin – or we can reach up and hang on tight to a lifeline that will not fail.

If you or I witnessed a man fighting needlessly for his life with help so near by – would we not desperately urge him to cling on to the rope that holds the hope of new life?

The good for the great...

When Jesus reappeared to the Apostles after His Death and Ressurection – I don’t think I could imagine their joy. Yes they had found the empty tomb, and yes they knew that Christ had risen from the grave – but how full their hearts must have been when they first came to recognize His presence amongst them once again.

And then He ascended in to Heaven – then He left them again.

So I wonder – If they had had a choice in whether or not to let their Lord physically leave them, could they have been persuaded? Even with the promise of greater things to come (John 14:12), would they have been willing to risk it? I’m not sure I would have, in their shoes. I don’t think I could have imagined anything greater than walking beside the Lord. I think I would have clung on tight.

But praise God that His plans are greater than ours – that He is able to see beyond our vision, that He is indeed a God of the great and impossible. And so Jesus left and the Church was founded. And it spread throughout the world. And men and women were drawn to the perfect and sustaining love of God. And lives were transformed. And goodwill was propagated. And the Apostles worked miracles. And Jesus Christ was lifted high.

Because God had His way.

I think the Apostles were ‘fortunate’ in a sense. They had no say in whether or not Christ was going to stay. When His Father called him to Heaven – that was that, He was going.

But I think in our lives sometimes, we need to be just as submissive to the Lord’s calling. Christ’s obedience was perfect, and so He went without looking back. But sometimes I wonder if I’m more like the apostles might have been. I don’t know that I’m always ready to let go and give up the good that I have. But I think we’re asked to give up the good, in anticipation of the great. We’re called not to settle for mediocrity, but to realize our full potential – as a favourite author of mine says – to become the best version of ourselves (Matthew Kelly).

It’s a somewhat terrifying thing to do – knowing that the good that we give up may never be realized again. But it’s a risk worth taking. The Father doesn’t lead us to a place He hasn’t prepared for us. He called His Son. And then He sent His Spirit. So, too, in our lives – when we open our hands, He takes what doesn’t belong and replenishes them with abundance.