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“Learning To Look At Jesus”

Dear Brian,

Thank you again for your letter. Your question, “How do I pray?” is one that has been echoing in my own heart for the last twenty years. Needless to say, I was deeply moved by it and I wish to take it very seriously. In my opinion, this is the most important question one can ask in life. The reason for this is simple: prayer, unlike anything else, reveals to us the truth about God and ourselves.

One could become quickly overwhelmed, however, at the vast array of literature that exists on the topic of prayer. There are countless books, seminars and podcasts on prayer. One hears about Carmelite prayer, Franciscan prayer, Benedictine prayer, etc. Also, prayer is often characterized as being either contemplative, meditative and vocal. Then there are numerous suggestions and ideas about things like posture, breathing, and material to pray with. Should I sit, should I stand, should I kneel, where should I pray and when?

Somebody who is considering diving into this ocean we call prayer, can quickly become overwhelmed and feel like they are drowning before they even get their feet wet. I would suggest, for the meantime, that you ignore everything mentioned above and simply understand prayer as this: learning to look at Jesus and allowing him to look back at you. That, I am convinced, is the essence of all prayer, regardless of what form or shape it takes.

I can remember a few years ago coming to the startling realization that during my official “prayer times” I was spending little time actually praying. What was I doing? I was daydreaming, worrying, planning, self-analyzing, etc. Rather than looking at Jesus I was looking at myself. I can remember thinking, “I must be in a dark night because God appears absent to me!” I would soon discover however, that the darkness I was experiencing was the result of my own self-obsession, which was preventing me from looking at Him. Hence, God was not absent as I believed, I was.

Therefore, it is important Brian to remember that whether you are praying with Scripture, in Eucharistic adoration, journaling, etc. that your focus needs to be on Jesus. This might seem like an obvious point, yet how difficult it is to do! Anyone attempting to pray for five minutes will become acutely aware of the seemingly endless current of distractions, temptations and random thoughts that so easily steal our attention away from Jesus. In fact, many people say that they feel worse when they begin to pray, because prayer is revealing to them how distracted they really are. The good news is, they are not getting worse, but simply experiencing at a deeper level their own need for a Savior.

I mentioned above that prayer is learning to look at Jesus and allowing Him to look back at you. What does this look like practically in one’s life? First, our gaze in prayer is primarily extended outward, away from ourselves, towards God. Christian prayer is not a self-help exercise, a stress reduction program or a therapeutic tool to help us cope with our problems. Of course, prayer can provide insight about ourselves and help to calm our emotional and psychological states, however, these are not end’s to be sought in prayer. In prayer, God is the end, and to do that I must extend my gaze beyond myself.

Second, since we all struggle with a tendency towards self-obsession we need something, particularly if we are new to prayer, to help us look at Jesus. A scripture passage, a few decades of the Rosary, or simply sitting before an icon or crucifix, etc. can be a tremendous aid in helping us to look more intentionally at the Lord during official times of prayer. As your prayer life and relationship with God matures, many people discover less of a need for something external to help them gaze upon Jesus. That, however, is a topic for another letter!

Finally, Christian prayer is relational. Though it is true that God is always greater than our ideas, concepts and images of him, it is also true that God is not merely some energy or force “out there” in the universe. Despite what we can or cannot know about God, this much is true: God is a personal presence. Hence, our relationship with him, particularly in prayer, is relational. In prayer we are communicating with an Person, who listens to us, speaks to us, and most importantly, loves us.

In this first part of prayer, learning to look at Jesus, you are discovering who God is. In the second part, allowing Jesus to look at you, you are discovering who you are. Quite honestly, the first part of prayer is relatively easy. Once the presence of Jesus captures our attention our distractions and thoughts tend to dissipate for a time, allowing us to gaze upon him with wonder and intrigue. Interestingly, it is the second part of prayer that many people find the most difficult, and cause some to abandon prayer all together.

What you will discover Brian in prayer as you allow Jesus to gaze back at you is a presence that is gentle, attentive and loving. As wonderful and attractive as this may sound, the purity of his gaze upon us is unlike anything we experience in this life. It is both confronting, yet disarming, intense yet peaceful, demanding yet patient, all of which leaves us feeling both consoled and afraid. When we allow Jesus to gaze upon us it can often feel like staring directly into the sun on a hot summer day; even though we enjoy the warmth and brightness of the sun, our eyes need time to adjust to its presence. My prayer for you Brian is that you allow yourself time, not only for your eyes, but your heart, to adjust to the dazzling light of His presence.

Unfortunately, throughout most of our life we are merely seen “exteriorly.” Things like social status, fame and our physical appearance captures a significant amount of attention from the world. What is ironic is that by remaining merely on the exterior, the person who has become the object of fasciation is never revealed. Thankfully, Jesus works in the exact opposite way. What he desires is you, not the you that is presented on social media or the you that your career and social status might indicate, but the you beyond all these temporary aspects of your life. Hence, without prayer one can only live on the surface of life.

Does all of this appear too good to be true? Whereas it is good and necessary to talk about prayer, the most important thing is that one actually begins to pray. I hope that if anything, this letter inspires you Brian to pray by simply looking at Jesus and allowing Him to look at you, because it is here, more than any other place, where you will discover both who God is and who you are. After all, isn’t this what we are all looking for? Prayer is the key that unlocks the door to these great mysteries.

Sincerely in Christ,

Fr. Jeremiah

Dear Brian,

Your last letter affected me greatly. I am sorry to hear of your recent struggles with anxiety and how paralyzing it is for you at times. To say that this is a heavy cross would be an understatement! Of all the things you have shared with me over the years, this seems to be the most challenging and difficult cross you have had to carry. Let me begin by expressing how sorry I am that you are going through this! Needless to say, I will continue to pray for you, especially as you attempt to navigate through this dark cloud.

Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately in this situation, anxiety is something I have known firsthand. When I was a teenager I struggled a lot with anxiety for several years. At times it was so paralyzing that I honestly didn’t know how I would make it through the day. For me, the root cause of anxiety was a deep feeling of inadequacy before life. I felt incompetent before everything, whether it was school, sports, or deciding what to do with my future. Since I believed that I couldn’t do anything, I became anxious before life. Thankfully, I can honestly say that the weight of this cross has been lifted a bit, yet at times it still rears its ugly head.

What I would like to share with you in this letter are merely some thoughts about developing a “spirituality towards anxiety.” I am not a psychologist and have very little training in psychology, therefore I am unqualified to speak to you as a psychologist or counselor. Without denying the importance of psychology and the other social sciences, I can only speak to you Brian as a fellow disciple and one who has struggled in this area as well. With this in mind, let me begin.

Jesus tells us in the Gospel, “Do not be anxious about your life…Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And which of you by being anxious can add one cubit to his span of life”(Matthew 6:25-26). These powerful words of Jesus have both challenged me and consoled me over the years. It is important to recognize that Jesus is not telling us to ignore our life, or that our feelings, sufferings and trials are irrelevant. Rather, Jesus is reminding each one of us that, despite what we may experience in life, we are known, loved, and being held in the Father’s arms every moment of our life.

Your first reaction to this may be one of disbelief. “Every moment of my life I am being held in the Father’s arms? What about this situation, or this painful memory, or this circumstance, you may ask? Where was God then?” These are good and honest questions that one must ask. However, they require not merely human reasoning and analysis, but deep prayer and reflection. Yet before we even begin to ask such questions we must remember an essential characteristic about God: His greatest answers to our questions often comes not through his words, but through his presence.

The Crucifixion of Jesus reveals this most profoundly I believe. On the cross, Jesus experiences in his own humanity, our feelings of being abandoned and forgotten by God. His cry, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” (Mk 15:34) has been echoed throughout history by countless people who have suffered, causing many to lose faith in a God who knows us, loves us, and sustains us every moment of our life. Yet, what does the crucifixion reveal to us: not the absence of God, but the overwhelming presence of God! Do we not believe that on Good Friday, the most dreadful day in human history, that God the Father was present shining his light, love and mercy through such apparent darkness? Salvation, much to our astonishment, does not come when everything and everyone is perfect, but when everything, quite honestly, is at its worst!

The point I am attempting to make is simply this: there is more to reality than what we can see or feel. Whether we are struggling with anxiety, addiction, loneliness, etc, it would be wrong to interrupt these challenging circumstances as proof of God’s absence. St. Paul tells us, “Rejoice in the Lord always…and “have no anxiety about anything” (Philippians 4:4-6). St Paul, as you know, was a man who had much to be anxious about. However, like Jesus, he is not telling us to ignore our anxiety or that it doesn’t really exist, but rather he is reminding us that there is more beyond it. What ultimately is beyond our anxiety? The presence of God who, though we cannot always perceive it, is loving us and sustaining us every moment of our existence.

One of the reasons this is so difficult for us is because we tend to believe the stories anxiety (or any struggle we are dealing with) would like us to believe. For example, because of your recent struggles with anxiety you are now questioning God’s love for you, the validity of your prayer life, and whether or not you should even go on retreat next month. Where do these thoughts come from? Doubting God’s love, your relationship with him and the opportunity for greater intimacy through a week-long retreat cannot be the voice of God. Each one of these thoughts contradicts exactly what Jesus says! They are the result, not of listening to God’s word, but of listening to the lies that anxiety would like you to believe.

What each one of us needs to do is stop drawing conclusions based primarily from our thoughts and feelings, especially when our thoughts and feelings do not coincide with the reality that Jesus reveals. We automatically assume that if we are thinking or feeling something, it must be true. However, in your case each one of your thoughts and feelings has led to a false conclusion. Why? Because anxiety has tricked you to believe that you are anxiety. What Jesus reveals about you is that you are a child of God first and foremost, who merely struggles with anxiety.

We must not, of course, repress or ignore our thoughts and feelings, however we cannot give them the authority and power to tell us who we are. It is one thing to say, ‘I feel anxious or I feel inadequate,” and quite another to say, “I am anxious, or I am inadequate.” Unfortunately, I have spent many years living as the person anxiety has told me I am as opposed to the person Jesus has told me I am. Despite my own poverty and sins and all the trials and struggles I have faced in my life; the Lord continually reminds that I am none of these things. When I ask him who I am, his response is always the same, “Jeremiah, you are my son.” I pray that God will continue to remind you of the same!

You have asked me if I think you need counseling. A general rule I was always told is that one should seek counseling when a particular issue is preventing them from fully participating in life, whether that occurs in one’s work, family or relationships. Personally, I am convinced that most people, at some point in their life, could benefit from counseling. There are many ways to encounter God’s grace and counseling has proven to be an avenue of grace for many people. If you do decide to seek it out, it is nothing to be ashamed of. Rather, your courage and determination to confront this issue is a sign that you are one step closer to freedom. In the meantime, be assured of my prayers for you.

Sincerely in Christ,

Fr. Jeremiah

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If you would like to read more from Fr. Jeremiah, please check out his new book Amid Passing Things.

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Letters to Brian: Encountering God more deeply in your life

By Fr. Jeremiah Shryock, CFR

Dear Brian,

I am edified by your desire for God’s will in your life. Regardless of what you may feel, the desire for God’s will is an infallible sign of grace working in your life. Hence, there is reason to rejoice and be encouraged! The reason for this is simple: no matter how clever, smart or even holy we may think we are; we are always merely responding to God’s initiative. In the spiritual life, there are no original ideas!

You have asked me for some practical ways that can enable you to both hear and discover God’s presence more deeply in your life. What various holy men and women have discovered throughout history are not infallible means to make this occur, but rather a few tools that can help one become more receptive to God’s presence and action in their life. Here, I would like to simply mention two.

The first tool to help you encounter God more deeply in your life is praying with Scripture. If you are able, it would be ideal to spend 15-30 minutes a few days a week praying with the Gospels. Notice I said praying with the Gospels and not studying them! What does this mean? Practically it means selecting a relatively short passage from the Gospels (usually no more than 10-15 verses), reading it slowly, pondering the words or action that is occurring, and allowing yourself to enter into its content. As you read the passage, what strikes you as interesting, odd, or even attractive? How does Jesus seem to you in the passage: loving and compassionate or maybe even angry or distant? Perhaps, if your imagination allows you to, you can place yourself in the scene that you are pondering. What are you like before Jesus? What is he like before you?

Whether it is pondering the words of Jesus or imagining yourself in the Gospel scene, the most important thing is that you begin to discuss with Him whatever it is your experience of the passage might be. The whole purpose of praying with the Scriptures is not merely to have nice thoughts or beautiful meditations, but to engage in a dialogue with the One who is the very meaning of the Scriptures, the Lord Jesus Himself! In this heart to heart dialogue, you will learn more about God, yourself, and His will for you than any book or class could ever teach you.

The Word of God operates on various levels. There is a theological, historical, and even philosophical dimension to it that is both necessary and important. Another aspect of the Word of God, just as important as the others mentioned, is what I like to call its “living reality.” In other words, when we read and pray with the Scriptures we are not merely reading about history or theology, but we are encountering a Reality that is both alive and fresh. Regardless of how old certain events may be that we are pondering, they are for the believer, always an opportunity to encounter the Lord anew. As the Letter to the Hebrews affirms, “Jesus Christ is the same, yesterday, today and forever” (Hebrews 13:8).

This simple practice of praying with the Gospels has had an enormous effect in my own life. When I was in college and trying to discern God’s will for my own life, it was this simple practice of praying with the Gospels that not only strengthened me in the faith, but also brought about an enormous amount of insight and clarity concerning my own vocation. I can honestly say that during those solitary times of prayer with God’s word, I encountered the Living God and it was from that encounter where I discovered the path he was leading me on. May it be so with you as well!

The second tool to help you encounter God more deeply in your life is what I like to call, examining your life. Unfortunately, many people believe that God is separate from one’s own life and that the details and circumstances of life are somehow an obstacle to God. The truth is, if you really want to find God, the only place you have to look at is your life! Unfortunately, this usually only occurs in retrospect. Hence the need to occasionally take a step back and examine your life.

Perhaps once a week or monthly it might be helpful to ask yourself a few questions? What is it in your life right now that brings you genuine joy and peace? What in your life seems to cause you anxiety or fear? What is it that I sense the Lord is saying to me in prayer? Has there be an event, a time of prayer, a person, etc. that revealed God’s presence to me in a way that I wasn’t expecting or planning? If so, what do I believe the Lord was trying to say to me in that situation? In short, where do I sense the Lord’s presence in my life in the past few weeks and where do I not sense his presence? The whole point of this little exercise is twofold. First, to discover the Lord’s presence in our life and then orient our life, as best we can, to where God’s presence appears to be for us.

You mentioned to me a few weeks ago that every time you volunteer at the soup kitchen you experience a deep peace and joy welling up from within you. I was immediately struck by your words because this peace and joy does not appear to have a natural explanation. First, you often arrive at the soup kitchen after a long day of teaching, and most likely, what you really want to do is seek out some rest and relaxation, something which the soup kitchen does not provide. Second, some people might say this peace and joy that you experience comes from simply doing a good deed. However, your life is filled with good deeds. You spend all day teaching and often stay at school after hours to tutor those students who you perceive are struggling without any charge. Finally, volunteering at the soup kitchen provides absolutely no earthly incentive. You are not being paid at the soup kitchen, volunteering there offers you no career advancement opportunities and most of the time much of your work is often unnoticed and unappreciated by both the poor who you serve and those whom you minister with.

It seems to me than that an important question arises. Where does the peace and joy that you experience at the soup kitchen come from? Is it the Lord that you are meeting there and who is perhaps drawing you into a deeper relationship with both him and the poor through this volunteering opportunity? Is he inviting you into a ministry with the poor, a religious vocation, or is the whole experience with the poor meant to serve as a catalyst for your own deeper conversion?

The fact is that neither I or anybody else can tell you exactly what God is saying or doing in your life. My point in asking you these questions is merely meant to spark reflection on your part. In my own humble opinion, it appears that your experience at the soup kitchen is worth paying attention to, and at the very least, bringing it before the Lord in prayer. If there is something of the Lord more deeply at work in this, a prayerful openness to his movement here will only bring about a greater clarity and discernment in due time concerning the true nature of your experience.

In the meantime, be assured of my prayers for you Brian. Discernment is often a long process, not because God doesn’t want to help us, but because we are usually so slow in perceiving and responding to God’s work! When I have discovered God’s will in various areas of my own life and acted on them, I often sensed the Lord saying to me with a smile, “Welcome, I have been waiting for you here!” I pray that these simple tools of praying with Scripture and examining your life can aide you in discovering more deeply where God is already waiting for you!

Sincerely in Christ,

Fr. Jeremiah

Contemplation and Deeper Conversion

The call to contemplation is, in many respects, the call to a second conversion. During our first conversion, we have to leave behind those aspects of our life that are incompatible with a life of grace. During our second conversion, which often coincides with the beginning of contemplative prayer in a soul, what one has to leave behind now are those aspects of God that are purely sensory. In other words, contemplation invites us to an intimacy with God that transcends our senses and is therefore, beyond words, ideas and images.

This new way of being with God can appear terrifying to a soul that has experienced the love and mercy of Jesus Christ and whose only desire is to return that love. Because when one no longer feels God’s love or experiences his nearness in prayer, one assumes that either God has abandoned them or that their own hearts have grown lukewarm. Yet as long as a soul has not given up prayer and is striving to love their neighbor, they can rest assured that something much deeper than what they can fathom is occurring.

For the person who is experiencing this grace in their life, one’s reliance on sense perception not only in life, but during the time of prayer lessens. From the ruins of this apparent collapse, a deeper faith, hope and love is born, which purifies the soul so that it can love more deeply. Needless to say, the gift of contemplation in one’s life demands a faith and a trust that is beyond what our senses can provide, ushering the soul into a deeper and more fertile land where God is no longer the product of our own imagination.

Fr. Jeremiah Myriam Shryock CFR

In the Christian context of prayer, silence is synonymous with listening. A quiet mind, a feeling of peace in one’s heart or a general calm throughout one’s being are a gift to be received, however they are not, in and of themselves, the reason for, or necessarily the fruit of, deep prayer.

When silence is sought as an end in itself, one can be sure that there is no genuine prayer occurring at all. However, when silence begins to initiate a deeper surrender to God because a more profound listening is occurring, prayer is not only beginning, but advancing quite rapidly.

Perhaps the greatest fruit of a deepening prayer life is not the accumulation of insights about God, but the ever-growing realization that the Living God is not something to be comprehended at all. What God desires most from us is not a mind that penetrates His innermost secret, but a heart that is open, even though it fails to comprehend the Mystery in front of him.

Of course, a person must use their mind and the gift of reason appropriately. However, like everything in this world, they too have their limits. An important discernment question for every person of prayer is: during prayer, am I simply thinking about God or am I opening my heart to His presence? Another way of framing this question would be: is God merely an idea for me, or is he Someone to whom I open myself to and thereby allow my life to be guided, not simply by intellectual conclusions and sound reasoning, but by a loving presence who quietly sits at the door of my heart seeking entrance.

Without the latter, one’s knowledge of God will always remain immature, regardless of background and education. The reason for this is simple: without vulnerability, there can be no real intimacy and without intimacy, there can be no true knowledge of the other. Hence, if we are to truly know God, we must open our hearts to him, trusting that the moment we do, our knowledge of God will reach a depth that thought alone could never grasp.

Fr. Jeremiah Myriam Shryock CFR

Waking Up

I was suddenly shaken out of my daydream because of the sound of sirens ringing in the distance. As I looked in my rear view mirror, a police car was quickly approaching behind me. Any moment now, I thought, the police car would pass me and catch the culprit they were in pursuit of. Needless to say, I was surprised when, as the police car got closer to me, it did not change lanes to pass me. A few seconds later, I was shocked to discover that the culprit the police were in pursuit of was me!

I pulled over to the shoulder not knowing exactly what was going on. Was I speeding, I thought to myself? I didn’t think so. Did I run a red light? Not that I remember. Feeling confused and somewhat afraid I rolled down my window to greet the officer that was approaching my car.

“Good morning,” I said.

“Good morning,” the officer echoed back, without a smile or a hint of sincerity. “Do you know what the speed limit is sir?”

“65?” I said, somewhat unsure.

“It’s 55,” she said. “Do you know how fast you were driving?”

“60?” I said.

“I clocked you at 77.”

“77!” I said in astonishment. “Are you sure?”

“These machines don’t lie, sir. I’ll be right back,” she said.

As she went back to her police car, I sat there confused and a bit alarmed that I was driving so fast without even being aware of it. After a few minutes, I was beginning to wonder what was taking her so long. This was the first time I had been pulled over and therefore could not fathom what she was doing. I looked in my mirror and saw her writing and on the phone. Finally, she got out and approached my car.

“You were driving 22 miles over the speed limit sir. Here is your ticket. Your fine will be $300 and you will receive six points on your driving record. Please slow down,” she said, all without a smile.

As I returned to the friary later that day, my body was tense and my heart was troubled. What bothered me most was not getting a speeding ticket, but that I was completely unaware that I was engaging in something that was potentially dangerous, not only for me, but for others as well. This police officer, in a strange and rather expensive way, was a messenger from God, reminding me to wake up and start paying attention, before I or somebody else gets hurt due to my lack of attention.

The New Testament is filled with similar admonitions. “Stay awake,” Jesus warns us, “for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming” (Mt 24:42). St. Paul warns the Thessalonians, “So then let us not sleep, as others do, but let us keep awake” (1 Thessalonians 5:6), while Jesus utters these sobering words in the Book of Revelation, “Behold, I am coming like a thief! Blessed is he who is awake” (Revelation 16:15).

What exactly is the New Testament exhorting us to wake up from? Essentially it is any life, or any part of our life, that does not have God at its center. Those of us who consider ourselves fairly devout people can easily assume that this does not apply to us. After all, we might conclude, I pray every day, I’m involved in ministry and I am living a moral life. I am awake!, we believe. Without even realizing it, certain aspects of our Christian life can be operating more upon our own strength, intelligence and creativity, than actual dependence on God.

An important question we all must honestly ask ourselves is, is God really at the center of our lives? Unfortunately, one of the only ways we can discern this is through trials. What are we like when prayer is dry? Do we give up because God doesn’t seem to be entertaining us and filling us with consolation? What is our response to sickness or some form of bodily weakness? Do we get mad at God for interrupting the hopes and plans we made for our life? What is our attitude towards ministry when, on a human level, it appears to be failing? Do we lose heart and consider giving up because something is not working the way we imagined?

Occasionally, people are taken a back when I say that God can use something like sickness, divorce or bankruptcy as part of our ongoing conversion. Of course, God does not will that we experience any of these directly; rather he uses them often to bring about a greater good, which is essentially our own deeper conversion and growth in holiness. They are often a “wake up” call for many of us: for those who are distracted and driving at a speed that is dangerous, and even for those who aren’t they help us to continue moving ahead with greater clarity and resolve.

Like the Good Shepherd he seeks us out when we go astray, and like a loving Father he draws us closer even when we remain at his side. Whether these moments produce joy or suffering, God is teaching us that our faith and our trust can only be in him. He will use whatever it takes to get us back on track, refocus, and to reach our destination, where he is already waiting for us.

The Work of God

I never tire of hearing a person’s testimony. When I listen to people speak about how they encountered God--in a near death experience, a drug addiction, or even time in prison--I am reminded of how passionate God is in pursing us without any restrictions. Even if the testimony is relatively calm and seemingly uneventful, I am reminded of how softly God is whispering to us through the events of our life. Despite the differences in details, every testimony bears witness to a fundamental truth: we are in need of God’s revelation.

In my ministry of spiritual direction, the first question I always ask a new directee is, “What happened to you?” What I am essentially asking them is, “What has God done in your life that has created in you this desire for spiritual direction?” The reason I ask this question is simple: we could not have taken this step if God was not first inspiring us to move in a particular direction. In other words, our desire for spiritual direction, a vocation, or simply the desire for holiness is not ours. We are merely responding to God’s work in us.

When I was in college, I was fortunate to have an academic advisor who appeared more interested in my future than I was. At the beginning of every semester, we would meet in his office for what felt more like a pep rally than an academic discussion. “Ok,” he would say to me, as his eyes widened. “This semester you need to take more journalism classes than creative writing… Here is a list of possible internships you should apply for…Have you considered accepting the job of editor-in-chief of the college newspaper like I recommended?” The more excited he got and the more suggestions he made, the more overwhelmed I began to feel. Noticing the sudden change in my disposition he attempted to encourage me by reinforcing his motives. “I wouldn’t be pushing you if I didn’t think your writing had potential,” he said, as he smiled and patted me on the shoulder.

Five years prior, I would have done anything to have someone excited and enthused about my writing like my academic advisor was. It was writing, I believe, that helped me navigate through those difficult and turbulent years of adolescence. Through writing I was discovering, not only who I was, but also where my place was in the world. When the time arrived to consider a career path, writing seemed like a natural fit. However, in my early years of college, something was beginning to change, or rather, I was beginning to change.

During my junior year, I scheduled an appointment with my academic advisor to inform him about a different path that God was revealing to me. As I entered his office, Dr. Baker was his usual excited and enthusiastic self.

“I was thinking,” he said with a huge smile, “You need to start trying to get some of your essays published. Graduation is less than two years away and it would be great to have some published writing to put on your resume.”

“Dr. Baker,” I interrupted. “I think I’m going to be a Franciscan…and a priest.”

He sat down, removed his glasses and stared at me with a confused look on this face.

After a few moments of silence, he finally responded, “A what?”

“I feel like God is calling me to work with the poor and live as a Franciscan priest,” I said, afraid to look him in the eye. “Maybe one day I will be a writer, but right now I believe I have to respond to God’s call first.”

He put his glasses on and sat back in his chair.

“I don’t know what to say,” he said, “I’m shocked,” followed by another long pause. “I think you are making a great mistake. You are wasting your mind and your talent as a writer.” And then he said it, “I’m really disappointed in you.”

His words stung me. The one person who believed in me was telling me I was wasting my life and was disappointed in me. I left his office feeling depressed and confused and spent the next few hours walking around town wondering if he was right. As I returned to my apartment that night, I spent an hour in prayer kneeling before a crucifix, desperately begging God for light. Even though I didn’t hear any voices or have any visions, I finished that time of prayer confident that this “career change” must be from God, because I could not have chosen this myself.

I spent my senior year of college living more like a monk than a college student. Despite a full academic schedule, I attended daily Mass, spent an hour in prayer each day, and began fasting once a week. My free time was devoted entirely to pursuing my vocation as a Franciscan. Occasionally, a tint of sadness would envelop me as I thought about the writing career I was leaving behind. However, with each passing day, the wonder and surprise that ensued from following Jesus left me confident that I was doing God’s will.

***

A few months ago, I was having lunch with my best friend from college. David, though not overly religious, was a loyal and faithful friend who watched these changes occur in me firsthand. David was telling me about a conversation he had with a few of our old friends and how when my name came up one of them kept saying, “I still don’t understand what happened to him. We all thought he was going to be a writer!” Laughing, David said to them, “God is what happened to him.” Confused by David’s response, my friends asked him what he meant. “Look,” David replied, “We all know how much he loved writing. The only logical explanation is that something more powerful came into his life.”

A big smile covered my face. “You’re right,” I said to David, “Thank you for understanding.”

It has been almost twenty years since I told Dr. Baker that I was placing my writing career on hold and pursing my vocation to religious life and priesthood. During my last year of college, Dr. Baker and I maintained a very formal relationship and since graduation I haven’t seen or heard from him.

Looking back, I can understand his disappointment with my decision. He had a vision, a hope and a plan for my life that, from a natural perspective, was one I believed would make me happy and leave me feeling fulfilled. However, when God intervened and revealed a different path to me, despite the initial confusion and shock it left, I knew this inspiration was not from me.

Fortunately, God does not always follow the plans and ideas we make for our lives. The real question each one of us needs to ask is, “How open am I to the will of God, not only when it conforms to my desires and dreams, but especially when God’s will appears different from what I first expected?” By opening ourselves to God’s will, we allow God to take us beyond ourselves into something much deeper than we could have imagined. In my experience, saying yes to God, even when I didn’t know where it would lead at first, has been the most beautiful and liberating experience of my life.

Post Retreat Depression

The last day of every retreat is the same. I wake up, usually after not sleeping well, feeling a bit sad and annoyed. I am sad because however long the retreat lasted it had been a time of quiet joy with God and the few people I was called to lead on this retreat. The retreat center, even if located in the middle of the city, became an oasis against the noise and busyness of modern living, allowing each person the space to decompress, unwind and perhaps for the first time in awhile, be alone with God.

I am annoyed, of course, because the retreat is over. This idyllic situation, unlike any other in this world, is disappearing before my eyes and there is nothing I can do about it. I hear retreatants packing their bags, making travel plans, and beginning to say goodbye to each other. Trying to appear stoic, I simply smile, thank everyone for coming, and say goodbye to each person, while interiorly my heart feels barren and alone. I have what I like to call, PRD, Post-Retreat Depression.

During each retreat, I tell everyone that this is a special time of grace. God often “lifts the veil” and allows us to encounter him in a way that is different from our ordinary daily life experience. No matter how blessed a time the retreat was, most of us are not called to live on the mountain alone with God. We have families, jobs, and communities that, whether we like it or not, are waiting for us. The key, I emphasize, is to integrate our experience on retreat into our daily lives.

One area of difficulty for people who had a profound experience of God on retreat, is the almost complete identification of an experience of God with God himself. As a retreat director, I have witnessed countless people have life-changing experiences in the course of a retreat, especially retreats that include a heavy dosage of silence and solitude. After these experiences, the typical response is, “I don’t want to leave here.” This is, perhaps to our surprise, a natural human response. Anytime we experience anything that brings joy, comfort, or pleasure, we don’t want to let go of it. In fact, we often grasp at it and try desperately to force it to stay.

This is demonstrated almost verbatim in the Gospel account of the Transfiguration. Jesus has taken Peter, James, and John up a mountain, a symbol of going on retreat and preparing the way for a deeper encounter with God. There, in silence and solitude, Jesus is transfigured before them: “his face shone like the sun, and his garments became white as light” (Mt 17:2). In the midst of this profound encounter with the Lord, Peter proclaims, “Lord, it is well that we are here; if you wish, I will make three booths here, one for you and one for Moses and one for Elijah” (Mt 17:4).

Peter, in his all-too-human attempt to hold on to this precious moment is basically asking Jesus, “Do we really have to leave?” The experience of the transfigured Lord, like our own deeper experiences of the Lord on retreat, is one he is not ready yet to let go of. A few verses later, however, Jesus and the three chosen disciples are already coming down the mountain. Their retreat has abruptly finished and now they are returning back to daily life.

What is the point of the Transfiguration for the three disciples who witnessed this event? Shortly after the Transfiguration, Jesus’ Passion begins. In a matter of moments, Jesus will move from being the transfigured Lord to the Lord who is betrayed, beaten and crucified. The Passion, at least exteriorly, will appear as a contradiction of Jesus’ own words that he is “the light of the world and he who follows me will not walk in darkness” (Jn 8:12). Ultimately, the Transfiguration is meant to strengthen the faith of the disciples so that in the midst of the confusion and darkness of the Passion, their faith remains steadfast.

A similar reasoning, I believe, can be used to understand why God gives us consoling and beautiful experiences of him, whether it is on retreat, during prayer, or just simply in the middle of our daily lives. They are meant to strengthen us. In many ways, they are a quiet reminder from God that our lives, despite what we may feel and experience, are governed by God’s fatherly care. What is perhaps most frustrating about these experiences is that we cannot, despite our best efforts, control or create them. There is no method of prayer, retreat director or special place that can cause them to occur more frequently or in the manner we desire. They are completely God’s gift to us, given when and how he sees fit. Hence, they are meant to be received with joy and gratitude.

Even though I remind retreatants of this at the end of every retreat, I still find myself slipping into what I have diagnosed as Post-Retreat Depression. Despite the duration of the retreat, I witnessed first hand God’s love breaking more deeply into a person’s life. That person, despite his own fears and struggles and sometimes even because of them, becomes an icon of God’s relentless pursuit, not only of his soul, but mine as well. Like Peter, I have often asked God in the silence of my own heart, “Do we really have to leave?”

Shortly after each retreat ends, I am separated from those with whom I spent a few days alone on the mountain with Jesus. The intimacy, silence and peace that we shared together are now behind us. Now, against my own will, I wait at an airport filled with strangers, noise and activity. Occasionally, on the flight home the person I am seated next to will initiate some kind of spiritual conversation, but generally the flight is a quiet one. I spend the majority of the time reflecting on the past few days and praying for those with whom I shared this journey.

There is a temptation to believe that after every retreat I am now plunged back down to the base of the mountain and must wait again for the next retreat to begin my ascent. With this mindset, life appears as an obstacle to our continuing growth in holiness. The reality is, because of this retreat, or a deeper experience of God in general, I am not plunged back down at the bottom once it is over, but I am actually at a higher elevation because of my experience.

One day, God willing, we will reach the peak of that mountain. And so we continue our ascent, confident that God is guiding us to the peak of that mountain where he has already prepared a place for us.

My Greatest Joy

Every month I meet individually with various people to discuss their relationship with God. This includes men and women of different ages, vocations and life experiences. Each one of them has sought spiritual direction because they want greater intimacy with God. Despite this common desire, each person’s relationship with God is as unique as the individual. In the spiritual life, after all, there are no identical twins.

On average, each individual meeting lasts about an hour. Depending on what each person is sharing on a particular day, sometimes there are tears, sometimes there is laughter, and sometimes there is both all within the same meeting. These responses are not because of emotional or psychological problems, but because these are people of prayer. In their prayer they are encountering the living God who, although desires to be known, never allows us to grasp him completely. This seemingly intimate and yet distant aspect of God can cause joy and happiness one day, fear and anxiety the next.

Spiritual direction, unfortunately, has often been misunderstood. The spiritual director is not some guru who has all the answers, nor is he an expert in discerning exactly what God is doing in your life. At the same time, the spiritual director, at least most often, is not a psychologist who is looking to discover the causes behind one’s behavior, emotional outlook, or mental state.

Surprisingly, the spiritual director cannot even be considered a friend. Though friendly in nature, the monthly meetings between a spiritual director and a directee are not the equivalent of two friends getting coffee and catching up on one another’s life. Since God is the center of this relationship, the space that a director and directee occupy is surrounded in mystery, which is why this relationship defies worldly categories.

If a spiritual director is not a guru, a psychologist, or even a good friend then what is a spiritual director? A spiritual director is simply someone who assists another person in his relationship with God. He does this most effectively when he listens, without an agenda, to a person’s experience of God, particularly in an individual’s prayer life. This listening by the spiritual director helps the other person to hear God’s communication in his own life and notice how he is responding. Only after deeply listening can the director offer his own insights and observations.

Often times people ask me if they need a spiritual director. My answer is always the same: if you desire to take the Gospel seriously then I highly recommend one. The reason for this, even though we might not like it, is simple: each one of us needs help. By ourselves, we are unable to perceive God’s action in our lives. The Christian life flourishes, not when we live in isolation from others, but when we can share the joys and struggles with another believer, who not only desires to see our relationship with God grow, but who is mature enough to sit with us and listen to us as we sift through a wide range of emotions and experiences.

Most people believe that only a priest can be a spiritual director, but actually most priests are not spiritual directors. Priesthood and spiritual direction are two separate ministries rarely found together in an individual. A good spiritual director has three essential qualities. First, God has called him to this ministry. Second, he is a person of deep prayer who is striving to conform his life to the Gospel. Finally, he must be a good listener. If a person possess these three qualities, whether that person is a priest, religious, layman or woman is irrelevant.

In my years as both a priest and a spiritual director, I have found that generally my public role as a priest follows a particular fixed order, such as in the sacraments and other liturgies. Spiritual direction is entirely different. There is no format, and there is no group. It is solely one person’s relationship with God, which unlike the sacraments, is often not organized and structured.

The happiest day of my life, without a doubt, was when I was ordained a priest. On the morning of my ordination, I was configured to Christ the High Priest. I was given the authority and the power to preach the Gospel and to sanctify others, primarily through the administration of the sacraments. Since I was ordained a priest, I have heard countless confessions, celebrated Mass and preached the Gospel in many places and circumstances throughout the world. Despite the enormous love and gratitude I have for my vocation to the priesthood, my ministry of spiritual direction remains, unexpectedly, the greatest joy of my life.

As a spiritual director, I have accompanied many people in the joys and struggles that a maturing relationship with God entails. In these meetings, my directees have shared with me things that are known only to God and the individual soul. As a spiritual director, I occupy a space that nobody else shares, not even a spouse or a best friend. Hence, it is a space that demands the utmost respect and reverence, one that can be adequately described as “holy ground.”

Their experiences have left a profound impact on me. Their humility, strength and poverty has encouraged me, since like them, I share the same joys and struggles they do. When I see what God is doing in their life, despite my own confusion and fear, I am reminded that God is walking with me and guiding me.

Even though we often do not walk away with clear definitive answers in spiritual direction, we are given something even greater: an experience of God as mystery. In this experience we find, much to our own surprise, that even when we are not aware of it, God never tires in pursuing us. I have found proof of this in every individual life.

Learning To Pray (by Fr. Jeremiah Shrock, CFR)

I realized, quite early on, that my vocation to religious life and priesthood was beyond me. Naturally, I was shy and quiet and often questioned how I could engage in a life of public activity that included things like speaking to and directing other people. Intellectually, I was more poetic than practical and wondered how I could help people, not with their poetry, but with their real lives. If my vocation was to bear fruit, I reasoned, I needed to remain open and receptive before God. In other words, if I was going to be a Franciscan and a priest, I first needed to be a man of prayer.

Prayer, I have discovered, like my vocation, is beyond me. I don’t know how to pray, just like I don’t know how to be a Franciscan and a priest. A few years ago a deep sense of peace overwhelmed me when I arrived at the startling conclusion that prayer, like my vocation, is not something I have to figure out or master. It is already something that is happening within me. What I have to do is participate in it.

St. Paul says, “the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with sighs too deep for words” (Rms 8:26). Since prayer then is not mainly something I do, but something that is occurring within me, my primary disposition in prayer needs to be one of surrender. Hence, in prayer I try to surrender to God’s presence and action within me. To help facilitate this surrender, there are what I like to call the “3 L’s” of prayer.

First, prayer involves looking at God. If we are honest, most of our life is spent looking inward, not contemplating God’s indwelling presence, but contemplating ourselves. To be a disciple, Jesus reminds us, we must deny ourselves and follow him (Lk 9:23). In order to follow him, we must look beyond ourselves. This includes looking beyond not only our physical life, but also our ideas, plans, and agenda. In prayer we escape from the narrowness and rigidity of a self-centered world and allow God to reorient ourselves to a world more vast and beautiful than anything we could create.

Our looking in prayer might begin by gazing upon a crucifix, an icon, or a scene from nature, until the One whose presence those images reveal captures our attention. As our looking becomes less self-focused, the presence of God magnifies in our lives, transforming our fear and anxiety into peace and joy.

Second, prayer involves listening to God. As ironic as it might sound, God is always speaking, yet he rarely uses words to communicate. Many spiritual writers have suggested that silence is God’s first language. This silence of course, is not mere emptiness or absence, but a presence much deeper than words can express. Listening to God, then, requires a certain amount of silence in prayer, so as to attune our ears to Him who is beyond words.

Since listening is difficult for most of us, the Church has always recommended various aides to help us, not only to open our ears, but ultimately our hearts, to this God who is always speaking. Listening to God’s word in Scripture, pondering a theological teaching, or examining the movements of God in one’s own life, are just a few ways to help us quiet our hearts to enable us to be more attentive to God’s presence.

Finally, prayer involves loving God. Among all that has been written about God throughout history, the most probing insight into the nature of God is found by St. John when he writes, “God is love” (1 John 4:7). A hallmark of every true lover is that they desire not just gifts, praise and acknowledgement from their beloved, but the beloved himself. As strange as this might sound, God desires “us” more than anything else.

The gift of ourselves to God in prayer by looking at Him and listening to Him allows us to love God more deeply. What we see and hear in prayer is not an angry or distant God, but a God who is patient and near. This creates in us a greater desire to love God, not merely during our times of prayer, but throughout the day. The more purely we love God, the more easily we do his will. This cannot occur, of course, without a life of prayer, since it is in prayer where we find the inspiration and the strength to love God more each day.

Prayer then, at least the way I have come to understand it, involves some form of looking, listening and loving. I have found on those days when prayer is difficult that a mere “look” towards God or a simple listening to him in Scripture, not only rekindles my love for God, but awakens within me a stronger sense of his presence.

Even though we will never fully understand prayer and often feel like we do not pray well, one thing is certain: without prayer, life will overwhelm us. Only by looking at God, listening to him and loving him, am I able to become the Franciscan, priest and the person God has called me to be. This begins with the simple request that will not go unanswered: “Lord, teach us to pray” (Lk 11:1).

An Unusual Christmas (By Fr. Jeremiah Shryock, CFR)

“Your father is recovering well,” the doctor assured us. “He should be ready for a visit in a few minutes.”

My sister and I breathed a sigh of relief. Even though it was a routine heart procedure, our father’s declining health left both of us a bit nervous. “Thank God”, I whispered to myself, realizing that I was perhaps more nervous than I expected. I picked up a magazine that was on the table next to me as my sister began to notify her friends on Facebook that the procedure went well and thanked everyone for their prayers.

A few minutes later a voice came over the intercom. “Code blue, code blue, all available doctors report to the cardiac care unit immediately.”

Alarms began to ring and within seconds a sea of doctors came flooding through the doors that led to the cardiac unit where my father was. A few seconds later, my sister and I turned to each other in panic. “Oh no,” we both said, “that’s dad!”

***

Shortly after my father’s procedure, while the doctors were speaking with him, his face turned blue and his heart stopped. Thankfully, the doctors were able to resuscitate him and bring him back to life quickly, as my sister and I watched in horror. Apparently my father’s lungs filled with fluid, not due to the heart procedure itself, but from the aesthesia and the amount of time he spent lying on his stomach.

A week later, on Christmas Eve, my father finally left the hospital. By the time we got him home, my sister and I were relieved. Despite an exhausting week we were grateful, not only that our dad was alive, but that he was home and able to celebrate Christmas with us. As I unpacked his belongings my father sat in the living room, staring out the window.

“Jeremiah,” my dad said.

“Yes dad.”

“Are we going to have Mass tonight,” he asked?

I froze after hearing his question. Why tonight I thought? When I am at home I usually celebrate Mass in the morning. Suddenly I realized why he was asking if I was going to celebrate Mass this particular evening. It was Christmas Eve! Amidst all the panic and confusion of the past week, I lost track of time and forgot what day it was.

“Oh yeah, of course” I said. “What time?”

“How about 8 pm? I need to rest here for awhile.”

“Ok, that sounds good.”

After I uttered these words a touch of sadness enveloped my heart. One of the gifts of living in a religious community is the shared celebration of certain holy days, Christmas being high on that list. During these celebrations I am surrounded by people who, though different in age and life experience, both love and care for me in a way that is, for lack of a better word, familial. Along with the fraternal support of brothers and sisters in the faith, the celebration of these holy days includes beautiful music, a reverent liturgy and an engaging homily that naturally lifts one’s mind and heart to higher things. This year, however, my Christmas celebration was going to be very different than what I had become accustomed to.

My father lives alone in a simple two-bedroom trailer. When I was ordained a priest several years ago, we converted his other bedroom into a chapel, so that when I come home I have a place to celebrate Mass and pray. This Christmas Eve, rather than celebrating Mass with my community, this humble spare bedroom that can only fit four to five people comfortably, became my church. With me, my dad, sister, brother-in-law and my two nephews in attendance, we were at full capacity.

Once my family was gathered for Mass there was no beautiful music sung and no engaging homily given. My father was too tired to utter any of the Mass parts, and my sister and her family tried their best to fill in for the congregation. When it came time for me to read the Gospel, I was deeply moved by these words: “All this took place to fulfill what the Lord has said through the prophet: Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall name him Emmanuel, which means ‘God is with us” (Mt 1:22-23).

After I read those words, I looked at my dad, standing with the support of a cane, his face still wearing the shock of all he went through. The words “God is with us” were ringing in my heart. Suddenly, in this small trailer, without any of the usual bells and whistles, I felt myself being led to a deeper experience of Christmas than I ever had before.

When we gaze upon a Nativity scene, we can often forget the mysterious and confusing background that preceded this divine moment. Nine months earlier, when Mary is visited by the angel Gabriel, she is “greatly troubled” (Lk 1:29) and must be told by the angel “Do not be afraid Mary” (Lk 1:30). Despite the dizzying and overwhelming nature of such an encounter, Mary says yes to God, without ever being given a detailed account of how this mystery will unfold. Joseph himself, once he discovers that Mary is pregnant, is understandably confused, and decides to divorce her. In fact, his confusion is so reasonable that an angel must appear to him to reveal the cause of this event: “Do not fear to take Mary as your wife for that which is conceived in her is of the Holy Spirit” (Mt. 1:20-21).

Joseph and Mary must allow themselves to be led by God. Even though they are both major figures in the drama of salvation history, God only reveals to them what is necessary to make the next step of faith. They cannot see into the future nor can they trust in things like wealth or status to protect them. Their hope is in God and their only strength is their faith, which ironically, will not only enable shepherds to glorify God, but will also enable the Magi, the wise men from the east, to discover the true wisdom they had been seeking their entire life.

As I stood in our little chapel that Christmas Eve and spent a few moments of silence reflecting on the Gospel, I felt a special kinship to Joseph and Mary. Like them, I didn’t know where God was leading me, and like them, the birth of Jesus Christ not only gave me hope and consolation in the present moment, but it reminded me of a truth so great, that something even as cruel as even death cannot take away: “God is with us.”

Many people, including myself at times, are often perplexed before the enormous amount of pain and suffering in our world. “Why doesn’t God do something?” we often ask. “Why is God silent?” God’s answer to our perplexity is much deeper that merely taking away our pain and suffering. God does what is, quite honestly, utterly inconceivable: he becomes one of us. He does this by entering our world, not as a vengeful ruler or an angry judge, but as a defenseless and needy baby. St. John states it in these theological terms: “the Word became flesh” (Jn 1:14).

As we finished the Mass that night, my sister and I helped my dad get ready for bed. After kissing him goodnight, I felt my heart and my mind finally begin to relax. Oddly enough, I felt a deep peace about not knowing exactly what will happen with my father. Rather than entertain all the possible things that could now go wrong with his health, I reminded myself once again that in the birth of Jesus Christ we are given an eternal pledge that God is with us. That’s the best Christmas gift we could ever receive and the only one we really need.

UNPACKING

Fr. Jeremiah Shryock, CFR

Every time I travel I always seem to encounter a common scenario. As passengers are boarding the plane, there is always one person who believes that his bag, despite being too big, can fit in the last tiny space available in the overhead bins. While the flight attendant arrives to assess the situation, a simple look at the bag is often sufficient for them to determine whether the bag will fit.

“I’m sorry,” they often say, “the bag won’t fit. We can check your bag and you can pick it up at baggage when we arrive at our destination.”

“No, I think I can make it fit,” the passenger often responds, which is followed by a minute or two of pushing, maneuvering, and attempting to manipulate the space that simply isn’t there.

“It’s not going to fit,” the flight attendant says again with a smile. “Let me take your bag and check it.”

With a look of confusion on his face, the passenger generally surrenders his bag to the flight attendant and sits down, looking somewhat annoyed and confused. Unfortunately, this is not just one random passenger on a particular flight. This is the way most of us approach life. We are greatly over-packed.

Our society has convinced us that our lives are inadequate. We are often told what is wrong with our bodies, families, careers, etc. The answer, society concludes, is waiting for us “out there,” whether it is in the form of a surgery, a new job, or some other thing that promises to perfect our many imperfections. Before we know it, our homes, workplaces, and more importantly, our hearts, are filled with stuff that we never needed.

A similar tragedy is played out in the spiritual life as well. I have often met people who believe that being a good Christian comes from reading certain books, attending certain retreats and being active in various ministries. They are often shocked when they discover a fellow Christian who is not walking an identical path. “How could you have not read this book or attended this retreat,” they often ask, as if holiness were merely the result of completing a spiritual checklist. Unfortunately, these spiritual demands often result not in transformation, but burnout.

The spiritual life is not a process of acquiring things, but more a process of getting rid of things. Of course reading books, attending retreats and becoming involved in ministry are all important and necessary components of a well-balanced Christian life. However, the purpose of these things is to awaken, not install, God’s life within us. The reason for this is simple. In Christ, we already have everything we need. The problem is, we don’t realize it.

St. Paul reminds us “I give thanks to God always for you because of the grace of God which was given you in Christ Jesus, that in every way you were enriched in him with all speech and all knowledge…so that you are not lacking in any spiritual gift” (1 Corinthians 1:4-4-7). When I mention these words to individuals in spiritual direction or to a group on retreat, most people struggle to believe them. In fact, most of us believe the opposite.

When I first began preaching, the first place I would go to prepare was not the chapel, but the library. I would spend almost my entire prayer time not praying, but reading commentaries and everybody else’s thoughts on the Scriptures because I believed I lacked the necessary gifts to preach effectively. Thankfully, this process was so exhausting that it only lasted a few weeks. Now, most if not all of my preparation for homilies occurs, not by reading commentaries, but by sitting in silence before God in prayer. Once I unpacked the clutter, I found I had more room for God.

So where do we start unpacking? The most obvious thing to start unpacking is sin. It is no coincidence that the first words we read of Jesus are “Repent and believe in the Gospel” (Mark 1:15). Why does Jesus begin here? Let’s take an example from everyday human experience. If one spouse spends an entire week ignoring or speaking unkindly toward the other, their relationship is going to be strained. That behavior might not destroy the marriage, but it does damage it and creates a rift. A simple “I’m sorry,” followed by love and respect can begin healing and strengthening that relationship.

What is true in human relationships is also true in our relationship with God. Every one of us at times does, says or thinks things that are contrary to what Jesus has revealed to us. If there is some sin in our life that we are struggling with then that is the place where this unpacking needs to begin. To facilitate this unpacking, we must cultivate friendships that promote holiness and not worldliness. We must avoid those places or situations that tempt us and can lead us astray. We must give God time each day in prayer and, through the Sacrament of Reconciliation, humbly confess our sins with absolute confidence in God’s mercy. Through these simple means, we can begin to unpack some things that have been weighing us down. All of this, of course, is usually not an overnight process, but one that requires patience, trust and fidelity. Jesus himself says, “By your endurance you will gain your lives” (Luke 21:19).

Removing serious sin from our lives is, in many ways, only the beginning of Christian discipleship. There is still more unpacking to do. Each one of us carries a certain amount of baggage that needs to be purified by God’s grace. This baggage appears in many forms, whether it is through emotional and psychological wounds, painful memories we have repressed, or defense mechanisms that we have acquired to protect ourselves from life. Regardless of what form it takes, the baggage we are carrying cannot fit into the life God is inviting us to.

The world, often with good intentions, wants us to believe that we are strong, competent and capable of anything. As Christians, we believe that our strength, competency and capability are not something we possess on our own, but something that is ours because of Christ who lives inside of us. St. Paul says it perfectly: “I can do all things in him who strengthens me” (Philippians 4:13). To experience God’s strength in our lives does not require us going anywhere or doing something extraordinary. It is simply a process of unpacking, since in our ultimate destination, heaven, no baggage is necessary. With God, we have everything we need.

New podcast from Fr. Jeremiah!

https://soundcloud.com/franciscan-friars/marys-gospel

Mary's final words in the Gospel, "Do whatever he tells you," are an invitation to trust God despite what we may be able to see or understand. They stem from Mary's own experience with God and how through trust, she was continually led to a deeper encounter with her Son.

Piano with Kevin at our Bronx Homeless Shelter #franciscanfriarsoftherenewal (at Bronx, New York) https://www.instagram.com/p/BsVxicsHfaC/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1afnk8oavyzhq

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#Repost @jeffreybruno ・・・ Faithful. Courage. - Fr, Fidelis CFR steps between the police and protesters as he leads a group in prayer for all of those effected by the Roe V. Wade decision in Soho, NYC. @cfr_franciscans #catholic #faith #catholicphotography #devotion #faithful #prayer #newyorker #streetphotography #prolife #righttolife #adoption #abortion #franciscanfriarsoftherenewal (at New York, New York) https://www.instagram.com/p/BsVw808H3j9/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=ak6edwh8y0qp

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#repost @700yvette My grandson, Justin, will be baptized today! Today his destiny becomes united with Christ's destiny. His life becomes united with Christ's life. I am his grandmother, but in Christ, through his baptism, I am his sister. I am one with him. Please pray for Justin, for his parents, and for his God parents that the journey they begin today in Christ may find it's completion in eternity in heaven! @cfr_franciscans #franciscanfriarsoftherenewal #baptism #bronx (at Bronx, New York) https://www.instagram.com/p/BsUevyoHvIe/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=x66x9rv9h849

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