This week was the youth minister’s retreat here at camp, and one of the first things we talked about in our small groups was the last time we truly felt joy in our lives. And wouldn’t you know it, I could honestly say that the last time I felt joy was yesterday.
After the 8 day retreat, I had kind of a hard time coming back into the “real world” (which is funny in itself; most people come to Covecrest to get away from the real world, but it’s what my real world consists of now...); it felt really jarring to come out of 8 days of silence and complete, intimate closeness with Jesus and to be thrust immediately into the work of preparing for groups to come in...I mean, literally, not four hours had passed before we were welcoming in buses full of teens. The last thing I wanted to do that day was serve; all I wanted to do was go back to the chapel and listen to Jesus talk to me again.
I immediately became frustrated with myself, because I thought I was so ready after the 8 day to enter back into the rhythm of life here at Covecrest; I felt like I was strong enough to serve joyfully, to pray without ceasing, to become a missionary exemplar, a saint-in-the-making, if you will. And I failed. Terribly. That first day back, all I did was complain, I didn’t pray until evening, I found community difficult. Ugh. Square one, all over again. And so the next few days found me spending time in the chapel or on a work project feeling incompetent, incapable—rather worthless, to tell the truth.
But I came to a realization through prayer yesterday: it really has nothing to do with what I do anyway.
Granted, this is not a new realization (I mean, I didn’t even cry for this one...), rather something that is being renewed in me every day I’m here. I’ve come to understand my life, my faith, in terms of how God views me, rather than how I view Him. Everyday life might be hard, but Jesus is constantly reminding me of His love for me. Underneath all my incompetence, my ineptitude, I hear His voice whispering to me, “Beloved, you are worth more.”
I am more than I think myself to be—not by any virtue of my own, but by His gaze, His touch, His deeming me worthy. Jesus loves me like no other. I still can’t really fathom it, understand it, or ever really return it completely. But I think I am beginning to understand what it means to love Jesus through my love of others. I know I fail (quite a bit), but I’m convinced that this is the next “step” on my journey toward holiness: learning how to perfect my love of others, which is really a perfection of my love for God. Pray for me—I’ll need a lot of help.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Too Much
It has been a long time since I’ve blogged.
And there is just so much to write about.
I mean, really, I’m not quite sure where to start. I’m still decompressing a little bit from Mexico, Christmas break, and the 8-day silent retreat I just finished, which all took place in the last month or so. And, as I’m learning is the Covecrest way, we’ve hit the ground running after all that, with 2 groups here this last weekend, a drive down to one of the middle schools on Wednesday, the March for Life in a little over a week, and the youth minister’s retreat right after that.
I think at this point, I will just say that I am really grateful to have had the opportunity of a silent retreat, especially as the first thing we did to start the new year. At Covecrest, we’ve always talked about missionary activity that flows out of missionary prayer, and that was made a very evident reality through our 8 days of prayer on retreat. I am slowly starting to feel myself being formed in the identity of a missionary as someone whose whole life flows out of prayer, which is surprising and oddly empowering.
It’s not easy, but it’s so good.
God moved in mighty ways during the retreat—sometimes as powerfully tender, sometimes as confusing and enigmatic—it was beautiful and inspiring and amazingly transformative. I can hear the difference in how I talk and how I pray, in how I listen to what God is saying to my heart, in what I think about and what my goals for this year are (or continue to be). And I haven’t even begun to unpack and unravel all the things that I said, all the things that Jesus said back, and all the ways that I am now being called out to more. But, I know one thing: I cannot wait.
We were at St. Mary’s school yesterday, to follow up with a group of 8th graders we put on a retreat for a couple months back, and it was great to see how their hearts have been transformed. When we were leaving, one of the teens said to us, “Goodbye, keep doing what you’re doing, keep changing lives!” And it was awesome—it was so good to see him excited about his faith, claiming the change that’s gone on in his own heart. And it was great for him to recognize the work that we do. But at the end of the day, God is the one who changes hearts. And I just pray that our lives—my life—will speak that truth.
I am continually renewed and convicted about the truth of Jesus, the truth of His Gospel, the necessity to become my preaching (thank you, Pope Paul VI), the immediacy of the task at hand—to lead a life of evangelization, so that I point toward the Kingdom (I must decrease so that He may increase...).
The amazing thing is the reality that we’re invited to work in the vineyard—despite how many times we mess it up, how often we get frustrated, how often we make it about us instead of Him, how often we’re just plain wrong, He still wants us to be a part of it. And if that doesn’t humble me, I don’t know what will.
So this blog ended up being about a ton of things (I told you at the beginning, I had a lot to write about), and I’m not entirely sure what exactly I’m trying to say; thank you for journeying with me, for understanding that this is a growing process for me. As always, call me, write me, email me if you want to talk, need a prayer, would rather me blog about something different. I love you all.
And there is just so much to write about.
I mean, really, I’m not quite sure where to start. I’m still decompressing a little bit from Mexico, Christmas break, and the 8-day silent retreat I just finished, which all took place in the last month or so. And, as I’m learning is the Covecrest way, we’ve hit the ground running after all that, with 2 groups here this last weekend, a drive down to one of the middle schools on Wednesday, the March for Life in a little over a week, and the youth minister’s retreat right after that.
I think at this point, I will just say that I am really grateful to have had the opportunity of a silent retreat, especially as the first thing we did to start the new year. At Covecrest, we’ve always talked about missionary activity that flows out of missionary prayer, and that was made a very evident reality through our 8 days of prayer on retreat. I am slowly starting to feel myself being formed in the identity of a missionary as someone whose whole life flows out of prayer, which is surprising and oddly empowering.
It’s not easy, but it’s so good.
God moved in mighty ways during the retreat—sometimes as powerfully tender, sometimes as confusing and enigmatic—it was beautiful and inspiring and amazingly transformative. I can hear the difference in how I talk and how I pray, in how I listen to what God is saying to my heart, in what I think about and what my goals for this year are (or continue to be). And I haven’t even begun to unpack and unravel all the things that I said, all the things that Jesus said back, and all the ways that I am now being called out to more. But, I know one thing: I cannot wait.
We were at St. Mary’s school yesterday, to follow up with a group of 8th graders we put on a retreat for a couple months back, and it was great to see how their hearts have been transformed. When we were leaving, one of the teens said to us, “Goodbye, keep doing what you’re doing, keep changing lives!” And it was awesome—it was so good to see him excited about his faith, claiming the change that’s gone on in his own heart. And it was great for him to recognize the work that we do. But at the end of the day, God is the one who changes hearts. And I just pray that our lives—my life—will speak that truth.
I am continually renewed and convicted about the truth of Jesus, the truth of His Gospel, the necessity to become my preaching (thank you, Pope Paul VI), the immediacy of the task at hand—to lead a life of evangelization, so that I point toward the Kingdom (I must decrease so that He may increase...).
The amazing thing is the reality that we’re invited to work in the vineyard—despite how many times we mess it up, how often we get frustrated, how often we make it about us instead of Him, how often we’re just plain wrong, He still wants us to be a part of it. And if that doesn’t humble me, I don’t know what will.
So this blog ended up being about a ton of things (I told you at the beginning, I had a lot to write about), and I’m not entirely sure what exactly I’m trying to say; thank you for journeying with me, for understanding that this is a growing process for me. As always, call me, write me, email me if you want to talk, need a prayer, would rather me blog about something different. I love you all.
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