Franciscan at Home

Love is an act of the will that seeks the highest good of the other. It is not a feeling, or an emotion, and certainly is not about self-satisfaction. It is a choice to join our will to the will of God, and sometimes this demands that we totally step back and let God do the work. The choice to love God cannot be coerced or be based in deceit, guilt, or shame. For my wife, coming to love Christ and his Church was a journey of love that could not be forced. It took time, patience, faithful catechesis, and most of all, a love that respected freedom.

It is truly amazing what God can do when you focus on him. Lately, I have been reflecting on the “Smith” family, who came to our parish after beginning the RCIA process at two other parishes. When they came to our parish, I met with them to see how we could help.

I was amazed at their story and how much they desired to become Catholic! Mr. Smith shared with me how he was formally a leader in the Church of Christ and had begun to study Catholicism to prove it was wrong. His intentions may have been misdirected, yet even this was a response to God’s grace. His studies took a different turn: they led him to see how the Catholic Church was the one true Church. Once he realized this, he told his wife that he wanted to convert to Catholicism. She told him that if he converted it would “wreck” their marriage. He decided to pray and continue to study on his own, trusting that if God led him to this conclusion he would also provide a way for him to become Catholic and keep his family intact.

As a confirmation facilitator, it feels like a “rescue mission” trying to re-ignite faith, hope, and charity in souls that are growing cold and are in need of conversion. The young people I serve do not always benefit from the witness of fervent or healthy families. Parents sometimes value their child’s résumé over their religious formation. Many things, like sports, compete with time for God on the weekend. The result is an attitude that religious formation is more of a burden than a blessing. I often assume that those who come to be catechized do not want to be there.

I’m trying to learn how to depend on the Holy Spirit and be attentive to the diverse needs of those being catechized without being disheartened or overwhelmed. Somehow the catechesis I provide must be a means for a young person to discover Jesus and come to follow Him, perhaps for the first time. Last year as I served a group of thirty students, composed of both public and Catholic school students, it was intimidating to say the least. We began the year with Alpha, a program based on video presentations and small group discussion. For the first few months, I came to know only a fraction of the confirmation students, those who were assigned to my table. I wondered how I could establish a relationship of trust and openness with the other students.

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Paul’s Search for God
Saint Augustine famously wrote, “Late have I loved you, O Beauty ever ancient and ever new! Late have I loved you! And, behold, you were within me, and I out of myself, and there I searched for you” (The Confessions, Book X). This statement marvelously summarizes the sublime mystery of God’s action in a person’s conversion. Augustine recognizes that his search for God was a return to the self; an interior restoration of self. Augustine also indicates here that God dwelt within him, waiting to perform his salvific and regenerative act. What was he waiting on?

In St. Augustine’s conversion, there were many circumstances and people that led him to faith in Jesus Christ. This also holds true in our journey to the Lord. In my brief experience as a catechist, I have witnessed conversions in the people I encounter and in each of these circumstances, a person—primarily a catechist – has been involved. This is not to claim the conversion is brought about by the catechist. It is not the catechist who brings about conversion but rather it is the Holy Spirit, at work within the charism of the catechist that brings about the conversion.

One such instance involves a man that I worked with named “Paul.” Paul possessed a gentleness of spirit and a sincere kindness that is uncommon. Paul was baptized and received his first Communion as a child, but his parents failed to instill in him a vibrant faith and relationship with Jesus Christ. Thus, as he grew and aged, he began to wander considerably from the path of the baptized. Eventually, he married, had children, and then divorced his wife without obtaining an annulment. He later remarried to a Catholic woman in a similar situation. In all this, Paul considered himself a good person. But, there came a point in his life when he realized something was missing.

Victory Over Death and Darkness

Ten years ago I woke up from a medical coma in Billings, Montana.

Five days earlier, while I was working at a Catholic ranch for delinquent youth in northwest Wyoming, I was nearly killed. One night, while we were camping out at a site in the middle of the Wyoming high desert, in an attempt to steal the keys to a truck so they could escape from the ranch, four teenage boys waited until I fell asleep. I was in a sleeping bag under the stars. They snuck out of their tent and picked up irrigation shovels nearby. Their goal was to knock me out so they could easily steal the keys. They gathered around me, counted to 3, and then repeatedly pummeled my head—about 8-10 hits—causing a skull fracture and blood clot on my brain. One boy, not involved in the assault, ran to the staff house to get help.

Help arrived. I was airlifted to Billings. The following morning I had head surgery—a 3-inch by 3-inch piece of skull was removed (to be replaced 5 months later)—to address the bleeding on my brain and swelling. Had this boy not ran, I would have bled to death that night.

He saved my life.

n Weakness
People don’t brag about how weak they are. People want to think of themselves as confident, capable, self-sufficient... strong. I certainly don't recall being cheered on for how physically weak I was as a freshman in gym class! And if there had been an award for that, I certainly would have won. I couldn't bench press the bar. These are not the stories we celebrate or share with others—we love sharing the stories in which we were the heroes.

The paradox of the Christian faith is that when we are weak, God's greatness and his strength are made manifest. St. Paul begged the Lord to take away a thorn in his side, but the response was "My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Cor 12:9).

Over many years in ministry, I have been drawn to a deeper union with God on many occasions. Frequently, this comes through a powerful experience of my weakness.

In Evangelii Gaudium, Pope Francis speaks of two necessary “arts” for evangelization: the “art of accompaniment” and the “art of listening.” The Holy Father stresses that these intrinsically linked arts should mainly focus on the persons being evangelized, by truly seeking to know them and binding ourselves to walk with them wherever they are at in life:

Patiently Waiting Upon the Lord

I do not like patience. I don't enjoy exercising it and I particularly dislike knowing that it is something good that I should like. Patience, though, is key to seeing the incredible work of God in the human heart.

My high school religion classes are forty minutes a day, five days a week, for half a year. In addition to the intention of catechesis, they are also intended to be academically rigorous. We have tests; there are papers to be written; mastery of the material is desired and sometimes achieved. Amidst the intensity and the rhythm of these worthy pursuits, conversion is not always noted. It isn't reflected in test grades and, among high school students, is not something they share freely with their teachers. It can be easy to be discouraged and wonder, "Is anything I am doing making any difference?"

There was a time when I thought conversion only meant changing from one faith to another. It was much later that I discovered it is an ongoing process. Conversion can be gradual, or it can take place as an epiphany: a sudden awakening, or illumination. This is where my testimony begins.

I was asked to teach RCIA class on prayer. This was God’s first step in answering my own prayer at the time, which was for a better prayer life. Mine felt dry and empty, a letdown from my expectations. Something was missing.

In preparing for the class, I came across a quote from Saint Thérèse of Lisieux that triggered my epiphany: “For me, prayer is a surge of the heart; it is a simple look turned toward heaven, it is a cry of recognition and of love, embracing both trial and joy.” In an action of God’s grace, this quote touched my soul. It awakened the realization that my prayer life lacked that intimate “surge of the heart” that looks toward heaven, and encounters the living God—an interior realization that prayer is not a one-way street but an exchange of love between Creator and creature! I realized prayer is communion, communication with God!