Writing with a different purpose

Not many posts lately. When I've had time to write, I've been focusing on my book. I'm pretty excited about it. We'll see what comes of the effort. Long way to go.

Out of Order

Okay, I lied. Sorry. 

In this post I indicated that I'd post periodic updates, and then I went and had a triple bypass and took a three month break with no updates at all. 

No one was more surprised than the cardiologist by the results of the heart catheterization. He detected four "old" blockages. These were candidates for being stented, but this approach would have required multiple procedures and necessitated being on blood thinners for an extended period after the last procedure. This would have put me out of the kidney transplant window for a longer period, with the added risk of additional kidney damage from the dye needed for each stent procedure. He and my nephrologist recommended bypass surgery, and referred me to a cardiac surgeon. 

Turns out my referral was to the best guy in town. He consulted closely with my nephrologist. He would install a dialysis port as part of the surgery, as kidney failure is a real possibility with bypass surgery even in people with normal kidney function. It was not at so great a risk for a heart attack that they needed to do it right away. The first date they offered me for the bypass was my birthday, and I didn't see any point in delaying it further so I could celebrate another completed trip around the sun. 

It turned out they only needed to bypass three of the four blockages. My kidney function held steady enough that they didn't need to dialyze me. My previous post covers the immediate post surgery experience. I'll share a little more about recovery in a future post.

Another hiatus

Well, the previously mentioned bypass surgery knocked me out of the communication loop for a long time, although it isn't entirely to blame for my absence. Priorities, I guess. I think a few notes to remind my future self what this was like are in order.

First of all, this isn't something I ever want to do again. When they're preparing you for a surgery like this, they don't do a very good job of explaining how traumatic to the body it is. I knew about and dreaded having my sternum sawn open. That in itself worked its way into every dream I had for half the summer. I didn't realize how sore my leg would be, where they got the blood vessel from for my three bypasses. I almost couldn't feel the incisions themselves, especially the one up in my groin. But the bruising extended the entire length of my leg down into my foot. Any my right arm was a lovely thing due to the blown IV on the third or fourth day after surgery. The most intensely painful thing was definitely the chest tubes. It was frustrating having my blood sugar checked before every meal. The food in the hospital was good, though my appetite wasn't. The most depressing part was the extra hospital time waiting for my blood count to return to normal. Finally they just sent me home on iron because it wasn't happening.

Those are the negatives. There were many blessings, too, though. My health going into the procedure turned out to be a great positive. The rehab folks who came up to the room could tell I'd been pretty active prior to the surgery, even the day after surgery. My dear wife was concerned over how long it took me to come out of the anesthesia and get my tube removed, but when they took it out I tried to sing to her almost right away, attempting to croak out "I Wanna Hold Your Hand." Before that, I faintly remember being frustrated as I tried to write on her leg with my fingertip, "PAIN." They brought me some of whatever they were giving me for pain. They don't really use opioids much, which helps with the bowel recovery. They were surprised at how quickly that bodily function bounced back. 

All in all, I think the experience has me more prepared for what I'll go through with the kidney transplant.

Recovery is going nicely. I'm not running as much as I expected to be by now,  because it's hard to keep the heart rate in range. But I was able to get back on my bike for the first time yesterday, which felt great. That was a matter of waiting for my sternum to heal sufficiently, and the recumbent riding I've been doing in rehab had my legs well prepared for that activity. 

 

Hiatus over

Over a month later, finally back in business with a computer after the cat flipped our old one off of the coffee table where about three inches of it had been hanging off. I was hoping it would be salvageable, but alas, no. 

Now I can resume reading my book and reflecting on it. So much happening though, including upcoming bypass surgery.

Finally catching on

This was probably about the fourth Lenten season that I started reading Death on a Friday Afternoon. I started even before Lent this time, thinking that this would finally be the year I finished it "on time." 

Well, I still didn't. 

But fortunately, the time I spent with Fr. Mike Schmitz doing the Bible in a Year program last year taught me to stop thinking in terms of "on time." Fr. Neuhaus has made clear that it's always a good time to think about Good Friday, and that the Crucifixion and Resurrection are each best contemplated in the light of the other anyway. They each provide the context in which the other should be understood, and they both provide the meaning for my daily life. 

So I have some of the book left, and will continue to read and share from it during this Easter season. This will probably give me time to soak in some of the content that I've rushed through in the past because I was "late" finishing up.

Kidney transplant status

Background here

I was 26 when I was diagnosed with polycystic kidney disease. I'd known my mom had it. She called from Georgia to tell me she'd had a transplant, it was successful, and that her nephrologist advised that her kids get tested for it because it is caused by a dominant gene. The Air Force tested me using an Intravenous Pyelogram (IVP), and it was clear that I had cysts on my kidneys. So we've basically been monitoring a slow, steady decline in my kidney function ever since. I have now reached the point at which my nephrologist recommends that I try to get a transplant before I reach the point of needing dialysis. 

I've had a few people volunteer as potential donors. To protect their privacy I will be cautious about how I talk about them. The first to be identified as a possible match went for evaluation earlier in the month. They determined that this individual was at long-term risk for diabetes, so they will not approve them as a donor. The team indicated to this individual that there were at least a couple other potential donors who had signed up.

Meanwhile, I am being evaluated as a transplant recipient. As a result of my initial tests, the transplant team has referred me to two specialists. Due to an irregularity in my stress test, they referred me to a cardiologist, indicating that when he cleared me we could proceed. I've met with him twice. He indicated that my strong heart functionality outside of this test led him to believe that, for now, we should just keep an eye on things, monitoring my heart functionality over time and taking further action when there is some other indication of a problem. He indicated that he would approve me for the transplant, but prepared me that the transplant team might nonetheless want a more definitive test before accepting his recommendation. The transplant team has since indicated that they will not approve me without my having first undergone a heart catheterization procedure to make sure there isn't a blockage to be addressed. This procedure requires dye or contrast that will need to be cleared through my compromised kidneys, but my local nephrologist will issue pre- and post hydration orders that will help with that.

The second specialist they've had me see is a neurosurgeon. PKD is associated with increased risk of aneurysms, and the MRA they did in my evaluation testing showed a spot they were concerned about. I expected this because of an issue shown on a previous MRA that was subsequently definitively determined not to be an aneurysm. I've met with the neurosurgeon, and he is confident that the area they are concerned about is also not an aneurysm, but rather an irregular but non-concerning deviation in the junction of a couple blood vessels. I'm still awaiting clearance on that. 

Meanwhile we continue to monitor my kidney function to make sure I'm not seeing enough of a reduction to need to start dialysis, while the transplant team continues to evaluate my remaining potential donors, either as direct matches for me or for the donor swap program.

I appreciate your continued prayers and support. Part of the reason I'm posting this update today is that Easter seems an appropriate time to mention that I am not afraid of what lies ahead. I am confident in the One who holds both me and those whom I love.

I will post periodic updates. 

Kidney transplant background

I was 26 when I was diagnosed with polycystic kidney disease. I knew my mom had it. She called to tell me she'd just had a transplant, it was successful, and that her nephrologist advised that her kids get tested for it because it was caused by a dominant gene. The Air Force tested me using an Intravenous Pyelogram (IVP), and it was clear that I had cysts on my kidneys. So we've basically been monitoring a slow, steady decline in my kidney function ever since. I have now reached the point at which my nephrologist recommends that I try to get a transplant before I reach the point of needing dialysis. 

Knowing our story

The gospel is the story of the world and of everyone in the world, whether they know it or not. Again, in the words of (St.) John Paul II, "Christ is the answer to which every human life is the question." The mission of the Church is bring the world to itself, as we are told that the prodigal son in that distant country "came to himself." . . . Again, the Church does not have a mission, as though missionary work were one of its programs or projects. The Church is the mission of Christ, who continues to seek and save the lost who do not know their story." - Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, Death on a Friday Afternoon

I don't know how closely related this prior post is, but it seems relevant. 

There is this train of thought in the world today that no one knows us as well as we know ourselves, and that this self-knowledge should be sufficient to justify every decision we make. We see this approach at work in many different contexts. I'm sure my mom had similar thoughts when she engaged in the illicit relationship that produced me. Often we arrive at a later point in our resulting story realizing that we didn't know our real story at all. Many times we find that we have written subsequent chapters in our own lives and in others' that have resulted in very painful repercussions. 

The truth is that none of us know our story until will know our Savior. There is no part of our story that does not need to be redeemed and brought to completion in him, to be united to his story (history). When he has brought us to ourselves, we find that we enter into the mission of helping others discover their story in him, too. 

It may seem arrogant from the outside, but I suspect it's more arrogant by far to think that my story matters in any other context.

Witness

An apostle is ever so much more trustworthy than a religious genius. A genius may have flashes of insight and come up with a brilliant spiritual scheme, but what he has to say is finally and uniquely his. I cannot enter into it or trust it completely. An apostle's role is much more modest and, therefore, more credible: "I have been told something that I must tell you. Make of it what you will." - Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, Death on a Friday Afternoon

I think the desire to come up with our own insight and brilliance is a sin of pride. What more could I aspire to than to witness to the love of Christ Jesus? Yet many of us want to find some new way of putting out the message, some new angle that helps people accept what they have rejected or what they struggle with. I think this is a matter of getting our role wrong, of wanting to be responsible for the saving of souls, when that is not our job. 

Our job is to witness. Jesus has done an amazing thing in my life, and I want to share how He has loved me so that some who hear me understand how very much He loves them, too. The point of my discipleship is to become more like Christ so my life bears the same testimony as my words.

The glory of humble obedience

At the juvenile level of popular culture, Jesus might be more admired had he defied the will of the Father. One can readily  imagine the herd of independent minds cheering his defiant," I want to be free to be ME!" To the more mature, he might seem to be a greater hero had his final surrender to his destiny been preceded by a titanic struggle against that destiny. Why do so many think the glory of the cross is diminished because Jesus' will and the will of the Father were perfectly one? I expect it is for the same reason that, as we discussed earlier, many people say that the original fall was a fall upward rather than a downward. Modern consciousness has no higher interest than itself.  - Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, Death on a Friday Afternoon

Yes, we seem to put out struggle against ourselves on a pedestal, as if the nobility in our obedience is found in the fact that we want to be disobedient and struggle not to be. There is, indeed, glory in a struggle, but it is not a greater glory than that of humbly accepting that God's will is greater than our own.

I have a good friend, probably my best friend, who desperately desires a different path for her life than the one she is on. I admire that she is determined to trust in God's will and follow his guidance rather than selfishly make decisions that could bring her wishes to fruition in a way other than God's revealed plan. I have never mentioned to her that, by her obedience, she is probably sparing someone else great pain. Instead, she chooses to bear her own, and trusts that God is going to work out her life according to His plan for her. 

I see God's glory revealed in her life as she obeys His will. I know it is a struggle for her, just as Jesus' agony in the garden reveals that his obedience to the Father was a struggle for him, too. 

Hope in the Forsaken One

If, as St. Paul says, Christ who knew no sin was made sin for us, can there be any sin he did not bear there on the cross? If the answer is no, as I believe it must be, then even the utterly forsaken are not bereft of the company of the utterly forsaken one, the Son of God, and therefore not bereft of hope." - Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, Death on a Friday Afternoon

This is a comforting thought as I instinctively contrast my Aunt Helen's life and recent death with my dad's so long ago. He was proud and adamant in his atheism. He would not accept God's grace while he lived, and in his hopelessness took his own life. 

Yet I hope that he is not now bereft of hope.

Perhaps there is hope for me, too, as I continue to refuse to yield my will fully to God's, one way or another, decade after decade. 

Tragedy - updated

"I always thought you had a tragic life." - Fran

My cousins were very close to her family, and I always felt like an outsider. Oh, I was close with my cousins, but I wanted to be close to the people they were close to, too. Seems that she knew all about me, though. At the cemetery, waiting for my aunt's funeral procession to arrive, was the first chance I'd ever had to talk with her much, or any member of her family. I was glad for the opportunity to finally have a bit of connection with these ones who were so dear to my aunt and cousins. But she knew I was Shirley's son, knew about when and how my dad had died, about his alcoholism, and did not seem surprised when I mentioned that he wasn't my biodad. 

And she's right, I did have, in multiple ways, a tragic childhood. It didn't seem that way to me at the time, especially, except maybe for when my dad died. That's how childhood is: whatever you experience is what you think of as normal. In retrospect, mine definitely wasn't, and I'm glad to know that now and to have dealt with it. I'm a better person for it. 

Funny thing is, Fran doesn't know nearly the worst of it.

Great thing is, God has already made something far better than tragedy out of it, and there's an eternity more to come.

The Derelict

Not starting this one with a quotation, but it's still inspired by Death on a Friday Afternoon, by Fr. Richard John Neuhaus.

I haven't been reading or reflecting as much on this book of late while I participated in the Holy Father's requested Annunciation novena for the Consecration of Russia and Ukraine to the Immaculate Heart of Mary. For me, this was a matter of obedient availability, of subjecting my agenda to what it seemed God was asking of me. I would far prefer to reflect on this inspiring book, yet I have found this rosary each morning to still be a blessed time in God's presence. It has given me the opportunity, too, to pray for my dear Aunt Helen, for whose funeral we will be departing tomorrow, along other prayer intentions. 

Now I return to this book in the fourth chapter, on the word "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me." I am torn between this verb and "abandoned," which is used in some translations of this psalm. Fr. Neuhaus presents the image of Jesus as a derelict, which on its face can seem offensive. This is God Incarnate we're describing here, my Savior. How dare you refer to Him using the same term we'd apply to an addicted bum in an alleyway!

And that is the point. Jesus gave us multiple instances of exactly why we need to embrace this concept rather than reject it outright, and they are all about God's love for every one of us rather than an insult to the Son of God. 

In the parable of the rich man and Lazarus, I'm sure the former disdained the latter (oops: five minute thought break while my cat climbs into my arms for a snuggle. Now, where was I? Oh yes:) in very similar thoughts to those we have in mind as we think of dirty, urine-smelling, disgusting bums on the street. Perhaps we think the only thing offensive about Lazarus is that he was very poor, but I imagine the rich man found him abhorrent. Yet God saw them both very differently, perhaps even than Lazarus himself did. And likewise, outside of God's merciful grace, we are all as abhorrent as the most despicable human being we can imagine. When we have recognized this about ourselves and truly received the grace God desires for us, we become less judgmental of those whose struggles in this world are different from our own.

"For as often as you did it to the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did it to me." Thus Jesus says in the parable of the sheep and the goats. Who do we think "the least" is, anyway? Do we somehow think it's only the "circumstantially deserving least"? Yet so we often behave. 

We often convince ourselves that we somehow deserve God's love because of the wonderful people we are, not realizing that it is God's love that makes us wonderful people rather than our own innate worthiness. 

What derelict am I called to embrace today?

More of the crucial glory

 "'In the Cross of Christ I Glory,' declared  the nineteenth century hymn writer John Browning. It seems a strange, even bizarre, glory. "We have beheld his glory," St. John wrote, meaning that he was there, with Mary, beholding the final and perfect sacrifice. In the churches of Asia Minor that were founded by John, Easter was celebrated not on Sunday, as with other churches, but on 14 Nisan, the anniversary of Christ's death. This was his 'hour' of glory. The resurrection ratified and reinforced what was already displayed on the cross. When John, therefore, places Mary at the cross, he is placing her at the very center of salvation. She was there with him, beholding a glory different from, even the opposite of, everything ordinarily meant by glory. It was God's glory, which is love." - Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, Death on a Friday Afternoon

For me and for Fr. Neuhaus, this passage is a continuation of the one I began to reflect on the other day and subjugated the the Holy Father's prayer agenda. This thought process reinforces my prior thoughts about what Jesus himself meant whenever he referred to being glorified, and how we ourselves tend to view pain as something to avoid rather than embrace as an act of love when God reveals it as his plan for our lives. (I'm sure I have shared some related ideas about how husbands are called to love their wives, too.)

I love how Fr. Neuhaus has tied Jesus's sacrifice for us to the fullest possible expression of God's love. Maybe more than anything else, this is why it is so important to spend time reflecting on Good Friday. We prefer to rejoice in the resurrection, and perhaps we should. But the victory that the resurrection expresses was won on Calvary. How apt that St. John insisted on celebrating Easter on the anniversary of that date.

I will, however, make this objection to Fr. Neuhaus's thoughts: it wasn't John who placed Mary at the cross. It was Mary's devoted love for her son that caused her to be there, in the grace bestowed on her that led to her initial and ongoing fiat. 

We never know where our fiat, our availability, will take us, either, but it will be glorious, and perhaps strangely so.

The glory of the cross

 "Exploration into God is exploration into darkness, into the heart of darkness. Yes, to be sure, God is light. He is the light by which all light is light. In the words of the psalm, "In your light we see light." Yet great mystics of the Christian tradition speak of the darkness in which the light is known, a darkness inextricably connected to the cross. At the heart of darkness, the light of the world is dying on a cross, and the longest stride of soul is to see in this a strange glory . . . . The cross is not the eclipse of that glory but its shining forth, its epiphany." - Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, Death on a Friday Afternoon

Hard to believe I started this post five days ago, immediately after finishing my last one. I've read more since then, just haven't blogged more. 

My agenda this morning would be to finish this post right now, and move on to the dream that I had about the importance of subjugating our agendas to God's will so we can receive the gifts he greatly desires for us. Instead I am going to come back to these thoughts later, and this morning join in a global novena for peace. I think I'm going to find that the two things are related.

A different type of flower

 "Availability is letting God have his way, even when it leads us to the cross. For those who are available, life is at God's disposal, kept in readiness for what he may be up to." - Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, Death on a Friday Afternoon

I've included the first part of this quotation in a post before, but again, I have a different perspective in mind now than what I did before. 

I'm amazed at how much of our lives, of our availability, we waste by having our eyes fixed on our own goals, our own agenda, our own ideas about life. We are, each one of us, called to serve God where we are, in the current circumstances of our lives. Yet we spend so much energy on trying to work toward the goals and dreams we have for our lives.

Not that I'm discarding the value of goals and dreams. Without them, we can let inertia keep us stuck where we are. But sometimes we focus on our plans, our ideas, and our vision, even when we don't have any way to bring those to fruition. We let what we want in life drive our attention and actions--or our frustrated inactivity--to the point that we miss the wonderful chances to serve God and the people he loves where we are right now. 

But when we make ourselves available to God now, we often find that he has something in mind for us that is far different from our dreams and desires. There's an old country song about overlooking an orchid while searching for a rose, and our lives can become like that. There is incredible wonder that God wants to work through us, and he just wants us to be available so he can pour out his blessings in and through our lives. Instead, we keep beating our heads against a closed door rather than finding the one that God is holding open for us.

Laying down our lives

 "Today's sexual politics and disputes over gender are, at least in this connection, but another variation on a longstanding aversion to the way of discipleship. Let it be said that men have far more to answer for than women, for they have been more in charge of deriving alternatives to the way of the cross. But let us be completely candid: to say that Mary's way is not our way is to say that Christ's way is not our way." - Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, Death on a Friday Afternoon

First, I love the subtle way that Fr. Neuhaus has linked the way of discipleship to the way of the cross. There is no embracing discipleship without embracing the cross and all it implies for us. Laying down our lives, in one way or another, is not an optional thing that only some are called to do. I have written at length and on multiple occasions previously about one context in which husbands, including me, have often failed to answer this call. We have made women fight for their autonomy by not being willing to treat them how God has treated us all in this regard. Sometimes we all overreach what our freedom means for us, imposing restrictions or consequences on others in the process. 

So while some are called to the ultimate sacrifice of our lives for the sake of the kingdom, more of us, I think, are called to embrace our calling to support our loved ones who are called in different ways than we are. Sometimes this can pierce our hearts, and feel like its own death. 

Taking part

"'Woman, what have you to do with me. My hour has not yet come.' He has now no other life than what he calls "my hour," referring to his appointed mission. There is no way to be part, to have part, except to take part in his "hour." There is no independent connection with Jesus, no connection apart from that mission, not even the connection of a mother with her son." Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, Death on a Friday Afternoon

"Unless I wash you, you have no place in me." Jesus conveys the same message to St. Peter the night before he dies for us. "As I have done for you, so you must also do." Our serving Jesus in others is how we take part in this mission, this hour. Such service can feel like laying down our lives sometimes, even when it is for people we love deeply. Sometimes mostly for them, and this is when we know the depth of our love. When we connect this service to Jesus' mission, to our mission as his body on earth, we find ourselves living out our part in him, and drawing nearer to him than we have ever known.

We should know better

 "'For God has consigned all men to disobedience, that he may have mercy upon all.' The entire discussion of judgment and grace in the Letter to the Romans is to drive home how total is our dependence on God's grace in Christ. If we draw a distinction between ourselves and others--even if the distinction is that we do and they do not trust God's grace in Christ--we diminish the radicality of our dependence on grace. We are saying that, at least with respect to our faith, we are different from them, we are somehow not under the same judgment." Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, Death on a Friday Afternoon

For starters: the passage that this quotation starts with is Rom 11:32, and its context is St. Paul emphasizing that both Jews and Gentiles are under judgment. But the mercy of God in reconciling us to himself in Christ Jesus is for all. 

But the point of this has been nagging at me for a really long time now, as I watch my fellow believers cast judgment. Why, when God has bestowed on us such an incredible gift of grace, do we insist on futile efforts to justify ourselves in comparison with our brothers and sisters? We are instead to be vessels of grace for them, not on our own terms but by meeting others where they are and sharing the love of God with all. 

Holy Hunger

"For paradise we long. For perfection we were made. We don't know what it would look or feel like, but we must settle for nothing less. This longing is the source of the hunger and dissatisfaction that mark our lives; it drives our ambition." - Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, Death on a Friday Afternoon

Much to my surprise, I keep being led to reflect on passages in this book that I've never written about before. Not exclusively, but still. 

For most sins, it's easy to see something good that has been corrupted. They tend to represent some basic human need that has become a disproportionate priority. Each of the seven deadly sins has a corresponding virtue identified as its cure or counterpart. Those virtues are not the need grown out of control, but the approach to bringing balance back into our lives. While Fr. Neuhaus isn't specifically calling out sin here, what he's expressing is the longing that can lead to several of the deadly sins, including greed, gluttony, envy, and lust. And he seems to be saying to be careful not to throw the baby out with the disgusting bath water. 

"The hunger is for nothing less than paradise, nothing less than perfect communion with the Absolute--with the Good, the True, the Beautiful--communion with the perfectly One in whom all the fragments of our scattered existence come together at last and forever. We must not stifle this longing. It is a holy dissatisfaction. Such dissatisfaction is not a sickness to be healed, but the seed of a promise to be fulfilled." - ibid.

Don't let the longing grow out of proportion into sin, but neither squelch it out. I've skipped the part about how our friendships and loves are unsatisfactory, less than whole efforts to fulfill this longing, because to me it's more important to remember how they give us the greatest satisfaction when we receive them in the context of the greater longing for the Perfect. Each time we allow God's love to form a relationship in our lives we must avoid the temptation to grasp it and twist it into something that meets only our needs and desires. When we do, we find that those become part of how God works in and through us to create a fellowship that is the smallest insight into the perfect one we will finally enter into one day. Sometimes we are privileged to work on the twisted parts of those relationships and let God make them more conducive to his plan for our eternal lives.

When I come back to read these words, I want to remember that they were written in a time of great turmoil, as Russia has invaded the Ukraine. Even Putin's desire to recreate (his flawed recollections of) Soviet glory has roots in something not entirely evil. Our battle is still spiritual, as is our enemy. (That doesn't at all mean that we should let him have his way.) Even though I am now too old to be required to fast on this Ash Wednesday, I have entered into prayer and fasting anyway, and am offering the hunger in my belly as a further prayer for the protection of the people of Ukraine and an unlikely change of heart for those who have undertaken this invasion.

"Inadequate" faith

"Dysmas has faith smaller than a mustard seed, and it blossoms into a tree of eternal life, a tree of paradise. Christ's response to our faith is ever so much greater than our faith. Give him an opening, almost any opening, and he opens life to wonder beyond measure."

"When our faith is weak, when we are assailed by contradictions and doubts, we are tempted to look at our faith, to worry about our faith, to try to work up more faith. at such times, however, we must not look to our faith but look to him. Look to him, listen to him, and faith will take care of itself." - Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, Death on a Friday Afternoon

I knew I had to have previously blogged on some of this, or on the later, somewhat repetitive one that was underlined by my friend Ellie who gave me this book at a time when I was concerned over the weakness of my faith. I think we put so much stress on ourselves concerning our perceived lack of faith because we are so often tempted to think of our faith as the way we earn or deserve our salvation. It's especially tempting when we've been told that we're saved by faith alone, putting the emphasis slightly in the wrong place compared with the scripture that says we are saved by grace through faith. Luther added "alone," and insisted that the "papists" would never get it out. 

But "faith alone" can still give us the wrong impression that our salvation is up to us. Our faith is itself is a gift God gives us. Yes, we have a responsibility to respond to it, but that response is also God's gift to us. It's all grace. We don't in any way earn our place in Christ, even by our response to him. All we do is cooperate in his plan for us, but that participation is still his gift. This is why the "faith alone" versus "faith plus works" argument is such a futile waste of breath. It's all grace. 

And that's why it's so useless to try to debate who has forfeited their place by the way they have failed to cooperate with grace. We have all failed in some way to do so. Over-focusing on our faith is like over-scrutinizing our sin: both things take our focus off of Jesus and his call and example, though that's an inadequate word, to love. It's inadequate because what we really need is for Jesus to love through us, to work through our will and actions to express his love into the lives of those around us. 

Envying the "Good Thief"

I'm not leading off this post with a quotation right now, and if you just read one it's because I came back in and added it when I get that far in the book. Also, I've written a little about this thought before, from a different angle. But I have been thinking about the implications of yesterday's post and wanted to capture this thought.

I think it says a lot about our miscomprehension of sin that we either begrudge or envy those who experience deathbed conversions. "They're sneaking in at the last minute!" we protest, "It isn't fair!" When he told us that we can only enter the kingdom as little children, this isn't what the Lord meant! In fact, Jesus told an entire long parable about this issue so that we wouldn't miss the point. Still, we don't get it.

Maybe that's partly because, due to the creation narrative concerning our fall from grace, we view work as a necessary evil that we must bear, so neither we nor the workers in the parable consider meaningful labor as God's gift to us. Even when it's the incredible opportunity to share God's love with the beloved, we think of the labor as a chore. And secondly, because we have partaken of the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil (really? four "of's" in one phrase?) we decide for ourselves that sin is pleasant to engage in, and even good for us. As a result, we are jealous of those who "get" to partake in sin their whole lives and never "have to" do any work to promote the kingdom, yet still manage to squeak into "their heavenly reward" at the very end of their lives. 

I could offer the concept of Purgatory as a solution to this issue, and as a Catholic I believe it's a valid one with a good Scriptural foundation. But I think the point that Fr. Neuhaus is going to make, probably somewhere in this chapter, is a more pertinent one. The truth is that God has not and will not withhold from us anything that is truly good for us. He may be in the business of using even our sin to achieve his purposes, to bring us to our senses so we return home to him. But we are still better off when we choose to walk with him at every opportunity. The real reward of serving God in his kingdom and knowing his love even while we walk on this earth is that we get to know and serve God, which is a greater joy and blessing than any sinful temptation. 

And doing so doesn't make us less of an undeserving recipient of grace that the good thief or deathbed confessor. It just allows us to receive more joy as we journey through this world toward our eternal home.

I'm a thief!

"Recall now the two criminals. Mentioned in all four Gospels, they were called thieves by two of the Gospel writers. Whatever else they had stolen in their lives, the one, commonly called 'the good thief,' stole at the end a reward he did not deserve." - Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, Death on a Friday Afternoon

I am convinced that the chief obstacle to Christians living our calling is our failure to realize that we are all, at best, the good thief. At whatever point we accept Jesus as our Lord and Savior, we enter into the transformative journey to become Christ present in the world. And yet, rather than embrace the truth that we remain unworthy of the priceless gift that God has given us through Jesus, we often live our lives as though the purpose of our faith is to help us reach the point at which we no longer need a Savior. I'm pretty certain that isn't God's plan for us, but rather that we continually embrace our complete dependence on God's grace and mercy as poured out for us in Christ Jesus. 

We think of heaven as a reward, and indeed it is. But it is Jesus' reward, not ours. At our best moment, we are the good thief, undeserving of grace but receiving it because God is love and we, wretched though we be, are God's beloved sons and daughters. We deserve that no more than we do our own conception. 

The Great Reversal

 "Yet it hardly seems possible that injustice could be set right by a still greater injustice, that wrong could be set right by a still greater wrong. That is what St. Paul seems to suggest, however, in the passage in which he speaks of God in Christ reconciling the world to himself:  "For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that we might become the righteousness of God." The language is radical. It is not simply that he bore the consequences of sin, but that he was made to be sin. The great reversal reverses all of our preconceptions: God must become what we are in order that we might become what God is. To effectively take our part, he must take our place." - Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, Death on a Friday Afternoon

Fr. Neuhaus goes on in the next few pages to further probe this idea of how we struggle to accept this truth because it fundamentally offends our sense of justice. Everything in us screams that this cannot be right, despite our having everything to gain from it. 

So why do we resist it? Could it be because we are afraid to embrace its implications? Forgive us our sins, for we ourselves forgive everyone who sins against us. And lead us not into temptation" (Lk 11:4). If God has taken the judgment we deserve upon himself, the first part of this verse calls us to a response that portends potentially great consequences. As for the second part, we have long believed the lie that our desires are a good thing and our sin is no big deal. We're fond of our temptations, and embracing the great reversal means that we must recognize the truth so that we can receive the mercy we have been given.

There is no way to accept God's mercy without becoming vessels of it for others.

Giving myself timelessness

I do not ask you to forget the present and imagine that it is Holy Week. Rather, I invite you to be open to the thought that you are now calling the present is Holy Week, for all time was there, is there, at the cross. - Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, Death on a Friday Afternoon

I have previously blogged on this passage here, and given the subject matter I shouldn't be surprised that it still seems relevant as I start reading this book for the fifth or sixth time. I've reflected on it so often that I will probably often find, as I'm prompted to write again by this excellent read, that there are few passages I haven't already written about. Still, this is part of my enjoyment of this great book, and I am certain it will continue to be relevant to my faith journey. I will therefore share, probably with no audience, my thoughts as I progress through it again in the upcoming Lenten season. After all, I'm in a different place from where I've ever been before, so I can expect to have new insights. 

I have actually tried to pick this book up a couple times in more recent years, since my last total reading. But I've always concluded that I've waited too late into Lent or Holy Week to read the whole thing. I've therefore skipped over this beginning part, and as a result missed coming back to this central point that makes the entire rest of the book work for me, as I discussed in that previous post. Relationships deepen when the present obscures other urgencies. So this year I hope to give myself the gift of fully rediscovering this treasure as I take the time to reflect on Jesus' love as revealed in this defining purpose of His Incarnation. I hope to keep the demands of life from distracting me from reading and meditating until I find something I want to reflect on, perhaps for the second or third occasion. I hope to enter more deeply still the relationship to which my loving God always calls me, being drawn more fully into the unfathomable depths of boundless Love.