Who's in Charge Here?

People that know me well know that I'm pretty big on control. And while I would not go so far as to label myself as a "control freak," I think you could say I'm a bit of an "organizational freak." I like things organized. I like things to have a place and I like them to be in that place when I return to them. When I put something somewhere and it's not in the same place when I come back to it I often get upset or anxious. Perhaps I have a touch of obsessive compulsive disorder. Being organized helps me to have control in my life. So if you were to look in my office you may see this array of books and papers and other items and think to yourself "How does he have any idea where things are when he needs them?" But I do. I have things organized in binders and my computer files are organized into neat folders. So if you came to me and asked, for example, what we served for dinner at BASE Camp on the Wednesday of 2007 I would go into my documents file, open my Youth Ministry folder and go into the BASE Camp folder and then into the 2007 folder, open up my Excel workbook for that year and go to the tab labeled "Daily Checkoff" and I could tell you we served lasagna and even tell you what adult volunteers provided a salad and dessert for us that evening.

Being organized like this helps me feel in control. I don't like surprises. I used to play chess a lot and to be a good chess player you have to be really good at thinking ahead. Thinking through all the possible moves you can make and what your opponent may do in response and then how you will respond to that, etc., etc. And I think that way a lot. I think about conversations before I have them and how people may respond to what I say to them and then how I'll respond in turn. This helps me feel in control.

So last week when the pastor went out of town and left me in charge there's a wealth of things to think about and do and take care of, because frankly he's more of a "control freak" than I am. When I first started doing this I took all kinds of notes as he led me around and showed me what doors to lock and unlock and how the heating and the air conditioning works and setting alarms and what to do if the alarms go off and yes, if they go off in the middle of the night I'll be meeting the police here at the building (and that's happened a few times). I even made a diagram of how he sets things out for Mass so that I could be sure things were arranged as he'd want them.

I was fretting a bit because I heard early on that there was a weather prediction that we may be getting 15-20 inches of snow over the next few weeks. And I thought "Great - just my luck we'll have a weekend snowstorm" and then I'll have to worry about snow removal and whether or not the priest is going to show up and everything else that could be thrown off kilter. But as the week progressed the predictions went down. It became 2-4 inches, then 1-3 inches, and then a dusting of snow. And Facebook has this feature where you can enter in little things about your life - what's going on, what you're doing, what you're thinking. And Friday I wrote something like "I'm glad we're not getting much snow this weekend so I don't have to deal with snow removal and making sure the priest can get here for Mass." I was feeling in control and safe.

Then Saturday morning came. About 10:30am I looked outside and I remember thinking "This doesn't look like a dusting to me." Three hours later I was shoveling snow and getting myself worked up with anxiety about the rest of the weekend. I no longer felt in control. But everything worked out. And I updated my Facebook status to say "Every time I think I'm in control I'm reminded who really holds the reigns." And some of my friends - including some of our parishioners - thought that pretty funny.

Who is really in control? Not me. As much as I may try to take command of my environment and events I'm reminded again and again that God is in control. No matter how much I may plan and organize and think ahead it's God's plan that I have to follow. And trust in that plan. Mother Teresa once said "I know God will not give me anything I can't handle. I just wish that He didn't trust me so much." And that's the way it is for most of us. God lays a lot on us at times. And as much as we may try to control our lives ultimately we just have to give it up and give ourselves over to God. In the Gospel of Mark we hear of the man possessed by many demons. The man was not in control. But he trusted. He gave himself over to Christ and was set free.

We all have moments in our lives when we work really hard to be in control and find we're not. But our lives are full of demons that possess us and misguide us and may even lead us away from God. True faith is prostrating ourselves spiritually before God. Trusting in His plan. Trusting in His care. Trusting in his boundless love for us and desire in nothing more from us than to return that love. Return it in how we live, how we pray, how we worship, how we come to Christ. And then the demons that seek to possess us - fear, anxiety, mistrust, worry - will be driven out. We will be set free. We just have to remember who is really in charge.

Fierce Was the Wild Billow

It seems that over the last few weeks I’m encountering more and more people struggling. Struggling with their jobs (or lack thereof), struggling with their relationships, struggling with their faith. Unfortunately, we're simultaneously being bombarded with strife and worry on a grand scale every day. The tragedy of Haiti. Terrorist attacks and war in the Middle East. Starvation and genocide in Africa. A spiraling economy and political dogfights here in the United States. And because of this confluence of events I'm continually hearing people say things like "My life is terrible right now, but those people in Haiti have it much worse so I guess I should be thankful." And I agree to an extent that sometimes we do need to put things in perspective. Sometimes we need to ask ourselves just how bad things really are for us when there is so much going on with others in the world. Sometimes we need to step back and consider the blessings we do have in our lives.

The problem can arise when our own troubles seem to be constantly overshadowed by the things we see and hear and read about every day. Then we may begin to disregard seeing to our own spiritual and mental health needs. We can fall into a malaise driven by helplessness and the belief that we should just keep our problems to ourselves because somebody else has it much worse than we do. We become trapped at the center of a maelstrom we can't control and can't seem to escape. The storm continues to build and consume us until hope and rescue seem lost to us. We may feel abandoned and alone. But we are not.

Life is often one storm after another. For some people it's a never-ending series of storms large and small that beat us down and take our strength. For others it's the sudden squall, the storm that appears when all seems peaceful and sweeps us away and terrorizes us and leaves us exhausted and powerless. For others it's the constant storm that hovers above us and threatens and worries and leaves us trembling in fear. We may feel abandoned and alone. But we are not.

You may have heard people jokingly use the expression that someone is having a “come to Jesus moment,” a time when we have reached a precipice in our lives, a moment when all may seem lost and our options are extremely limited. Perhaps a moment when failure or embarrassment is staring us dead in the eye. A time when we look for support and help and no one is there to save us. We may feel abandoned and alone. But we are not.

The disciples felt this. They put all their trust in Christ and set out in a boat on the waters. The storms came, they rocked and swayed and seemed in danger of capsizing. Their world seemed to be crumbling down upon them as Christ slept calmly. They screamed in terror. They felt abandoned and alone. But they were not.

Christ calms the storm. "Why are you terrified?" He asks. "Do you not yet have faith?" Christ is with us in the darkness as well as the light. He stands beside us when no one else will. He carries us when the weight becomes too great to bear. He draws us to His arms when we are cold, alone, and afraid. But we must have faith. We have to seek Him in worship and in prayer, in the Eucharist and in the openness of our own hearts. If we can't open our hearts to Christ we will be lost. We will feel abandoned and alone.

St. Anatolius wrote a beautiful poem titled "Fierce Was the Wild Billow." A poem inspired by the reading from Mark's Gospel, a message of calm, comfort and hope…

Fierce was the wild billow, dark was the night,
Oars labored heavily, foam glimmered white.
Trembled the mariners, peril was nigh,
Then saith the God of God, "Peace! It is I!"

Ridge of the mountain wave, lower thy crest,
Wail of Euroclydon, be thou at rest;
Sorrow can never be, darkness must fly,
When saith the Light of Light, "Peace! It is I!"

Jesu, Deliverer, come Thou to me,
Soothe Thou my voyaging over life's sea;
Thou, when the storm of death roars sweeping by,
Whisper, O Truth of Truth, "Peace! It is I!"

With Arms Wide Open

I've been feeling a little abnormally joyous the last few days. Abnormal, because the Christmas holiday is fast approaching and usually my anxiety level is through the roof and I'm never quite as far along with things as I would like to be. And this year seems especially packed with meetings and activities and events and places to go and people to see. But this year feels different. I am actually somewhat on track to be ready for the holiday. But it's not just that.

For one thing, youth group is going spectacularly well this year. I approached this year with a certain amount of trepidation. I had a very involved and dedicated group of young people graduate out of the program this past spring and I really wasn't sure what to expect of the year ahead. This was a group of young people - the core of which - that had been involved in the youth ministry program for seven years. And most of them I had been ministering to since they were tots in our Children's Liturgy of the Word program. They were not only wonderful to work with and journey with they were great peer leaders, and they served the youth group well, opening their arms in friendship and genuine care to our "newbies." The legacy they have left is quite evident in the dedication and exuberance of their younger counterparts. And I have found my own dedication to my ministry re-invigorated as a result.

There is also a person I've been acquainted with for some time, but not really KNOWN. And there were a lot of factors that contributed to a sort of barrier that existed between us. Most mine. I think distrust was a piece of it. I'm not really sure what motivated it, but it was there. Misunderstanding. Fed by the mistrust. I always assumed the worst, became defensive, guarded. And something else, kind of intangible, that was just floating out there. Maybe fear.

We took a chance. A sharing that began with an email and continued with a meal together. Barriers came down. Mistrust disappeared. Understanding came. Fear dissolved.

We metaphorically opened our arms to one another. For so long my mental (if not physical) approach to this person was to be somewhat detached, arms folded, mind closed. But we took a chance. Stepped out of comfort zones that really weren't very comfortable at all. Opened our arms. Opened our hearts. And I think we have cultivated a friendship that has been beneficial to both of us.

Wasted time is so regrettable. But even wasted time can become a part of the process, this "work in progress" that relationships - relationships that grow - become. And maybe, just maybe the bitterness of time lost is part of what can make the here and now so much sweeter when we allow ourselves to be open to possibility.

I read a meditation once by Fr. Larry Gillick of the Nouwen Society (http://www.henrinouwen.org/) and he had this to say about achieving universal solidarity...

"Allowing ourselves to be loved personally lets our tightly clenched arms and hands loosen and spread, as do the branches of the Christmas tree when it is brought inside. They are readied to receive decorations and then offer their beauty to others. Solidarity with all the others of the world begins with my 'yes' and 'ours.' God is saying that God loves us with an embrace which is as big as the world. When thawed out and thought out, my 'yes' is directed to God, to my gifts, and to those 'others' whom God calls 'ours.' The journey moves from the outside in and slowly from the inside to the world-side."

Open your arms. Welcome love in.

The Road of Life (reflection)

Not sure where and when I saw this originally, but it still speaks volumes to me...

At first, I saw God as my observer, my judge, keeping track of the things I had done wrong, as so to know whether I merited heaven or hell when I die. He was out there, sort of like a president. I recognized His picture when I saw it, but I really didn't know Him. But later on, when I met Christ, it seemed as though life were rather like a bike ride, but it was a tandem bike, and I noticed that Christ was in the back helping me pedal.

I don't know just when it was that He suggested we change places, but life has not been the same since. When I had control, I knew the way. It was rather boring, but predictable . . . it was the shortest distance between two points. But when He took the lead, He knew delightful long cuts, up mountains, and through rocky places at breakneck speeds, it was all I could do to hang on! Even though it looked like madness, He said, "Pedal!"

I worried and was anxious and asked, "Where are you taking me?" He laughed and didn't answer, and I started to learn to trust. I forgot my boring life and entered in to the adventure. And when I'd say, "I'm scared," He'd lean back and touch my hand. He took me to people with gifts that I needed - gifts of healing, acceptance, and joy. They gave me gifts to take on my journey, my Lord's and mine. And we were off again.

He said, "Give the gifts away; they're extra baggage, too much weight." So I did, to the people we met, and I found that in giving I received, and still our burden was light. I did not trust Him, at first, in control of my life. I thought He'd wreck it; but He knows bike secrets, knows how to make it bend to take sharp corners, knows how to jump to clear high rocks, knows how to fly to shorten scary passages. And I'm learning to shut up and pedal in the strangest places, and I'm beginning to enjoy the view and the cool breeze on my face with my delightful and constant companion, Jesus Christ.

And when I'm sure I just can't do any more, He just smiles and says . . . "Pedal."

(author unknown)