Transformation 2: Catholicism

This is the second post in a five part collection about my word from God for 2016 – TRANSFORM.

Christ with me, 

Christ before me, 

Christ behind me, 

Christ in me, 

Christ beneath me, 

Christ above me, 

Christ on my right, 

Christ on my left, 

Christ when I lie down, 

Christ when I sit down, 

Christ when I arise, 

Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me, 

Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me, 

Christ in every eye that sees me, 

Christ in every ear that hears me.

 -from Saint Patrick’s Breastplate Prayer

I’ve been dancing as long as I can remember.  My early life can be counted in beats of 8, with leotards, sequins, and blue eye shadow.  If you didn’t catch that last detail, it means I’m an 80’s child.  Even though I no longer take ballet and tap lessons, I can still easily pick up dance steps.  The first time I went to Catholic mass with Jeff, I was in the center of a new dance and I couldn’t anticipate the next steps.  People in the pews around me were in synch.  I watched and tried to stay on the beat – when to stand, when to sit, when to sing.  I wanted to learn the routine so I wouldn’t stick out.  That’s how this transformation started.

Here’s the background:  My mom was raised Catholic, and then was baptized as a born-again Christian in her 20’s.  I grew up enjoying stories about her teachers: nuns who weren’t afraid to whap you with a ruler if you got out of line.  My mom knew Latin and she once put a Kleenex on her head for mass because her head was supposed to be covered and she forgot her scarf.  My parents raised us in a United Methodist church.  I only attended a Catholic mass once when my brother Bryan’s choir performed at one.  While looking for the bathroom, I turned a corner, bumped into a life-size statue of Jesus on the cross, and nearly peed right there on the hallway floor.

A couple of decades later, I met my future husband, Jeff, who attends both a Presbyterian and a Catholic church.  I’m somebody who isn’t concerned with a church’s denomination as much as its core beliefs.  Jeff and I were in agreement about those (https://www.ewtn.com/Devotionals/prayers/creed2.htm).  He kept the invitation open, but didn’t push me to go with him.  I rarely attended because I felt so out of place.  When I did attend, I was analyzing the dance, rather than expecting to meet with God.

As Sunday nights passed with me at home watching TV and Jeff at mass, I felt God tugging me to go with Jeff.  There were so many things I didn’t understand or didn’t trust.  What about the bread and wine actually being the body and blood of Christ?  What about praying to Mary and saints?  Why do they pray for people who have already died?  I was content in my faith, but sensed God had more to teach me through the things that made me uncomfortable.

The final drive that got me to attend mass was a decision to be under Jeff’s spiritual leadership.  I believe that the husband is the family’s God-given covering and with my actions, I was saying, “God, I agree with your good design.  I’m with You.  I’m with Jeff.”  After that step, I still had barriers in my heart about all I didn’t understand, but I was confident that I was in the right place.

This is not the story of how I became Catholic.  This is the story of how my relationship with God was beautifully transformed when viewed through the lens of Catholicism.

A friend gave me a book explaining the Scriptural foundation for each part of mass.  I had the book in one hand and the Bible in the other.  I prayed for the Holy Spirit to teach me as I studied.  The very first chapter explained the significance of the priest’s opening words, “The Lord be with you.”  Matthew 18:20 says that when two or three are gathered in Jesus’ name, He is there in their midst.  The words confirm the reality of Jesus’ presence with all assembled in the sanctuary, and they remind us of the reality of God’s life in us because of our baptism.  Biblical heroes – Isaac, Jacob, Moses, Joshua, David, Mary - were told “The Lord is with you” when they were called to daunting missions that forced them to rely on God like never before. Whatever was going on with you when you came to mass, the Lord’s real presence covered it.  That was just the first sentence of mass.  The power of those words was so awesome to me that I thought, ‘I could go to the first minute and a half of mass and leave, full of God’s truth.’  Wow.

I was stuck on my questions about communion, or Eucharist.  I currently do not receive communion at our cathedral because I respect that you need to believe that the elements are the actual body and blood of Christ.  I’m not there yet.  There is time set aside for silent kneeling before God after receiving communion.  In that quiet space, I thought, ‘How would it affect my experience of the bread and wine if they actually were Christ’s body and blood?’  Communion has always been characterized by gratitude.  I’m deeply grateful for Jesus’ sacrificial death and the eternal life I have as a result.  But what if I think about His actual self coming to the sanctuary, and then inside me?  The one and only God.  Alpha and Omega.  The fire of His holiness, burning up all the unholy inside.  The purity of His love, having a home in my broken places.  The fellowship of being one with God!  With this revelation, my gratitude was covered over with the sweet honey of awe and reverence.  Now, I see the need for silence after taking communion.  It’s space for processing and properly receiving the miracle that has just taken place.

In trying to learn the choreography of mass, I missed a key element of good dancing:

heart.  No one wants to watch a dancer robotically carrying out a choreographer’s design.  There’s no life in that.  A good dancer moves from the passion of their soul, and each step, each turn, breathes that conviction.  The audience is captivated because the dancer has offered a piece of themselves.  As I continue to learn the words and motions that move Catholic mass forward, I am engaging my heart as well, that He may receive honor through my movement.

In my mom’s story and in mine, God reached out to us and helped us know Him in ways that strayed from our comfortable normal.  Knowing more about God is great, but as I’ve been writing, I’ve been thinking, ‘Is that the whole point?  That God wants relationship with everyone?’  My answer came this morning.  On Thursdays, I attend Bible Study Fellowship (BSF) and we are studying the book of John.  Our most recent lesson was about chapter 9 where Jesus heals a blind man.  Jesus put mud on the man’s eyes and told him to go wash in the Pool of Siloam.  The blind man got his sight but didn’t know who had healed him.  Jesus went and found the man later on and told him that He was the Son of Man, the Messiah.  The man believed and received eternal life.  In one day, he was transformed to see physically and spiritually.  Our BSF teacher said it this way, “Jesus shows us who He is and calls us to believe.”  That’s the step beyond seeing God – accepting that Jesus is the Savior of the world.  Wherever you are in your faith, I pray that you would be okay with trying something uncomfortable.  I pray that you would see Jesus in a new light and accept all the love He has for you.  It will be delightfully transformative.  I promise!