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!

Transformation: Post 1, Motherhood

Romans 12:2  (NIV) 

Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.

TRANSFORM.  Instead of making resolutions in January, I always ask God for a word to define my year.  A few days into 2016, God gave me “transform”.  I laughed for two reasons:

 #1:  I was giant pregnant at the time (40 weeks and counting), so I certainly hoped I’d transform from that burgeoning state to a slimmer, baby-holding one.

 #2:  My brothers watched the original Transformers show when we were little, so the theme song played in my head.  “Transformers, robots in disguise.  Transformers, more than meets the eye.”

I thought a little more about those TV robots.  They were actually pretty bad-ass.  Looking at them in car form, you’d underestimate the big, strong machine they could become.  Transformers can battle anything in their path!  Yeah.  I started to like this word.  Maybe God had some power coming up in my life.

So, now it’s December 30^th.  2016 is almost over.  My transform year.  What happened?  What changed?  A lot, actually.  Looking through my journal, I narrowed it down to five big ones.  Five things that I didn’t see coming, didn’t know were possible, and am now ridiculously joyful about.  They are:  motherhood, Catholicism, consistency, no panic, and no sugar.  I’m going to share them one at a time in separate posts.  I thought I might get more reader interest if I abbreviated it into one, all-encompassing post, but writing this blog is for me too, and I’d like to process each individually.

There are two important elements that bind the five transformations together, like a book with its spine and cover.  First, absolutely NONE of this would be possible without the awesome power of God.  He is the Author of life, and His Spirit working inside me is the only road to change.  Through this year, I learned that I don’t just need God in order to get better at life, but that He is my life.  The transformations started as the focus, but each one is actually the result (or the Christianese “fruit”) of finding satisfaction and strength in God.  Second, transformation is better with a buddy.  As I reflect on the five areas, I see how God put a key person or cluster of people beside me to give hope and encouragement.  The TV Transformers weren’t alone in their battles, and neither was I.  It’s been a bad-ass year.

Transformation 1:  Motherhood

I think the transformation into motherhood seems obvious.  I went from not having a child to having a child.  There were lots of changes to my physical environment (read: toys and soiled clothing everywhere), daily schedule (or lack thereof), and emotions (lots of them).  While tough, these are not the parts of motherhood that merit the association with my word from God.  My true motherhood transformation happened in the middle of the night.

My son, Luke, was not a good sleeper.  Before having a baby, I imagined myself having these strong instincts to comfort my little one when I was needed.  In reality, what came forth under pressure was a whole mess of selfishness.  I didn’t want to get up again.  I didn’t want to rock him while he screamed.  I didn’t want to breast feed.  I just wanted to sleep and have my body left alone.

I’m married to a man who is a teammate like no other.  Jeff was up, taking shifts too, despite needing to go to work the next morning.  I appreciated him, but I also fought with him under the pressure.  My shifts often ended with me having a panic attack and Jeff taking over earlier than expected.  I couldn’t stay calm with the low sleep and Luke’s inexplicably intense cries.  Then, I felt guilty because Jeff had to make up for my weakness.   It was a very dark time.

 When Luke was five months old, he was still waking up crying about six times a night. Jeff and I got advice, read things, tried things, and finally just resigned ourselves to being up with a crying baby multiple times every night.   I didn’t like talking with other mothers about it anymore.  Jeff told me that he had stopped praying for Luke to sleep better.  He was praying that we would learn whatever God had for us through this situation.  You’d think I’d look lovingly at my hubs and appreciate his faith, but I totally lost it.  I got mad.  “I don’t want your prayer,” I told him, “I want sleep.”

In the end, I got sleep and I got the answer to Jeff’s prayer.  My friend, Laura, is a mother of five.  She told me that those middle of the night times were her battle hours.  That’s when she prayed and did spiritual warfare on behalf of her family.  When Laura told me that, I thought, ‘Well, you’re stronger than I am.  Good for you.’  But, that night, when I started praying for Luke to sleep well, God helped me take a step of surrender.  A step of transformation.  I prayed, “God, please give me grace to handle whatever happens tonight.”  It was another crappy night. 

During this time, my cousin texted and asked for my prayer request.  Back then, he was struggling with his relationship with God and decided to be more active in prayer.  I texted back about our sleep situation.  I said, “Why do I even pray when every night is a total crapshoot?”  He didn’t have any answers, but he prayed.  That night, Luke slept six hours straight.  A new record for Luke, a boost of faith for my cousin, and a taste of restoration for me and Jeff.

Another night, I was up with Luke and God reminded me of Laura’s battle stories.  I felt too tired and too out-of-faith to pray for Luke to calm down, but I decided I could sing.  Over the top of Luke’s cries, not caring if I woke Jeff up (sorry, Love!), I sang, “In heavenly armor we’ll enter the land; the battle belongs to the Lord!  No weapon that’s fashioned against us will stand; the battle belongs to the Lord!  And we sing, glory, honor, power and strength to the Lord!”  When that song was over, I sang another.  And another.  Luke cried and my faith and peace increased.  My situation didn’t change, but my heart did.  It was a battleground of transformation.  Eventually, he went back to sleep.  Energized, I didn’t go straight back to bed, but walked the hallway a little more and prayed for our family.  I got to sleep a little bit, and Luke still woke up later.  It was a kick in the behind.  I wanted the rest of the night to be easier because I had done the right thing, the holy thing, you know?  It didn’t work that way.  I was mad again.

I never found a formula.  This is not an A+B=C, tidy kind of story.  I didn’t become a nighttime Mary Poppins who sings the kids to sleep while she sews.  Luke does sleep through the night now and I even eat breakfast and get dressed before he gets up most days.  It’s amazing.  But, I still hate getting up in the middle of the night when there’s an issue.  I deal with fears of having another baby and being in that intense season again.   The difference is, my heart is open to what God wants to give in those places.  I’m willing to trust that He is good, even if everything stays the same as I see it.  I’m willing to praise Him when it’s not going my way.  That's a big deal!  It wouldn’t have happened without months of low-sleep nights.  I’m grateful for the transforming fire of motherhood.