The Power of Discipline

I was struck today by the power of discipline. I had spent the past week practicing saxophone every day, carefully limiting myself to about 20-25 minutes in order to keep my appetite sharp to play again the next day. Consumed by Father’s Day activities over the weekend, I was unable to practice on Friday, Saturday, or Sunday. Slightly dismayed at the prospect of missing out on crucial days of playing, I nonetheless dutifully set up the horn Monday evening for some late-night practice. I couldn’t have predicted what happened next.

Rather than backsliding because of my lost days of weekend practice, I found my abilities vastly increased since I last played! I was able to play longer, sweeter notes and run through scales with refreshing ease. Every note was a joy to play, which incidentally is the ideal I strive for at all times on the sax.

I realize now that I had been focusing on the negative effects of missing a little bit of practice, and completely forgetting the positive effect that an entire week of dedicated practice would bring about. Two ideas spring from this realization:

1. Discipline is extremely powerful. It’s amazing what repeated practice of an important or valuable action will do for you. You will become great! One of my favorite authors, Matthew Kelly, compares discipline to water in a creek. He says that practicing something consistently is like the water of a creek, which sends a small amount of water through the creek every second. The creek begins very small, but over time (we’re talking thousands, even millions of years) it carves out a larger space for itself in the rocky bed of the creek. Eventually, the water of the creek wears away more of the rock, and the creek becomes a river. Now if you had taken millions of gallons of water and splashed it onto the creek bed all at once, like a tidal wave, it wouldn’t have carved out a river. It would’ve made a big mess, dried up, and looked as if nothing ever happened. But the dedicated, consistent stream of the creek is unstoppable. Yes, it takes time, but the result is impossible by any other method.

2. Rest is important in any routine. I found that the weekend of no practice actually helped me more than it hurt me. Marathon runners actually build rest days into their intense workout routines. Anyone who exerts themselves greatly must rest, or they will end up hurting themselves in the long run. Therefore, rest is vital to any routine of discipline or practice. 

In the story of creation in the first chapters of Genesis, God creates the universe in six symbolic days, then rests on the seventh, known as the Sabbath Day. This is not just a whimsical detail of the story. It is meant to demonstrate to us the importance of rest in routine. If God Himself rested after doing His work, doesn’t that mean that each of us needs to learn to take a load off? I certainly think so. And for your sake, I hope you do, too, Dear Reader.

 So I close by asking you, what is your discipline that you have neglected?  Exercise?  Reading or writing?  Some form of athletics?  Music?  Whatever it is, I urge you to be creative in how you approach this discipline.  Practice it consistently, making sure it can easily fit into your daily routine.  Practice it wisely, finding efficient (and perhaps new) ways to become dominant at the skill or ability you value.  Finally, practice sparingly.  Be like the water in the creek, just a little bit each day.  Don't overdo it, and you'll often have the desire to practice consistently.  And when you don't?  You won't have the excuse of "it takes too long."

Happy practicing, my friend.

Determinedly,
Joezilla

The Eternal Losers and The Power of Christ

Were you as creeped out as I was when you heard that there might be a consecrated host at the Harvard black mass?  While the fight to get it cancelled was totally worthwhile, here’s why you can rest easy tonight regardless of the outcome.

I admit it--when I heard that a Harvard student group was sponsoring a “reenactment” of a satanic ritual involving a potentially consecrated Communion host, I was not only angry, but also a little scared.  After all, Catholics believe that the consecrated host is Jesus—not a symbol or a reminder, but Jesus, truly present, in the flesh and blood.  While we agree with outside observers that the physical characteristics do not change, we believe that on the level of its identity—its substance, to use the theological language—it is truly, really, totally Christ.

So if somebody who hates Christ (or thinks they hate Christ, because if they really knew Him they would almost certainly love Him) gets a hold of one of these consecrated hosts, I start to wretch at the possibilities.  Though I had always brushed such thoughts under the rug of my conscious mind in the past, this Harvard story made that impossible.

Thankfully, God (Who cannot be abused, hurt, or controlled by any of us idiots down here) decided in His mercy and goodness to show me why such worry was unfounded.  Take a look at this post from Elizabeth Scalia’s blog, which talks about why such satanic rituals do not actually possess the power they claim to have:

“Christ gave himself to us, freely, of his own free will. A Gift freely given. If someone takes the Gift and spits on it or whatever — they’re only destroying what was given to them, they are destroying what is ‘theirs.’ They don’t in any way destroy the Giver of the Gift, or lessen the Giver, or the Gift. So they have no power over it, they can’t dominate it. All they can do is destroy themselves within themselves.”

 

The consecrated host is the presence of Jesus, but Jesus is a suffering servant who submitted himself to extreme denigration and humiliation for our sake.  His presence in the Eucharist is that same gift, which we are free to accept or reject.  While desecrating the Eucharist is an outrageously sinful act, it does nothing to injure or even demean God Himself.

Simply put, they have no power over God!  They never could.  And while we’re bashing devil-worshippers, I’ve also always wondered why, if someone believes in God, they would purposely choose to “worship” the guy who got kicked out of Heaven by God.  Purposely picking the loser—isn’t that sort of like choosing to play as Jigglypuff in Super Smash Brothers?  But I digress.

 

Now, mind you, I’m not trying to minimize the reality or power of the devil.  He was created as an angel—which means that, in terms of creation, he’s way more powerful than any of us on our own.  But we have ways of keeping him at bay and protecting ourselves.

I remember the advice I got from someone on the beach in Hawaii: never turn your back on the tide.  If you do, it can kill you.  It’s so easy to write it off as nothing, but people have literally been swept away by creeping tides that unexpectedly descended upon them when they turned their back.  Satan is much the same way.  Always keep one eye on him, and be aware that he is actively trying to mess with you.  Whatever you do, do not write him off as a legend or a myth.  As they say in The Usual Suspects, “the greatest trick the devil ever played was convincing the world that he doesn’t exist.”  Don’t fall for it.  He’s out there, and he doesn’t like you.

But the good news is this:  God has given us a protector who has already once beaten the tar out of Satan, and is totally willing to do it again whenever we call upon him: Saint Michael the Archangel.  This supernatural guardian—who, I contend, must actually be way more ripped and imposing than the girly-man he is usually depicted as—is more than willing to step up and defend us from the devil whenever we ask.  Take a look at the statue pictured below.  Now we're getting somewhere!  That's more the Michael that I believe in.

 

And since, in writing this post debunking his followers’ false power, the devil may be a little extra peeved at me, I finish with this prayer—in which I have complete faith as a means of protection from all the attacks of the evil one:

Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle.  Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil.  May God rebuke him, we humbly pray, and do Thou, O Prince of the Heavenly Host [remember, that means army!], by the power of God, cast into hell Satan and all the evil spirits who prowl about the world seeking the ruin of souls.

Amen.

Now, let’s say it again!

Confidently,

Joezilla

P.S.:  Read the whole post at Elizabeth Scalia’s blog here.

Man of Steel: For Little Boys and Theologians Only

If Michael Phillips’ review in the Chicago Tribune is any indication, it seems that critics (and perhaps moviegoers) have finally had it with absurdly over-the-top, literally earth-shattering special effects sequences in big-budget action films.  It is entirely okay, and indeed often preferable, to have a movie climax that does not involve the potential annihilation of the planet.  Perhaps moviegoers are finally realizing the boredom of sheer excess—when every movie plot threatens a major U.S. city with total destruction, it’s just about the same as if none of them did.  This is a conclusion the public has needed for quite a while (and it’s a horn I’ve been tooting for some time—see my review of last summer’s The Bourne Legacy).  In the wake of such special effects love feasts as the Transformers series—and amidst legitimately awesome blockbusters like The Avengers—America is in need of thoughtful, clever, yet simple films.  Fewer special effects, more snappy dialogue, and a focus on plot.

Yes, we have overdosed on special effects, and Man of Steel may have finally alerted folks to this grave fact.  I am relieved to see that there may be light at the end of this decade’s heretofore entirely computer-generated tunnel of explosions.  How ironic, then, that I found myself loving Man of Steel, and cannot bring myself to agree with the lukewarm or unfavorable reviews that some critics and viewers have afforded it.

There are two reasons for this.

First, the battles.  The battles in Man of Steel are completely over-the-top, exhibiting each and every symptom of dumb action movie excess, including but not limited to: extreme close-ups of hand-to-hand combat that obscure the events of the brawl and render it less exciting; unconvincing computer-generated body doubles engaging in unbelievable stunts that likewise diminish the excitement of the movie; an absurd scale that requires not just the combatants, but entire skyscrapers and city blocks to be brought down over the course of the fight; disconcerting collateral damage that calls to mind the presumably grisly fate of countless bystanders, who are totally glossed over in the movie’s narrative; and volume jacked up so high that one exits the theater both dizzy and wondering how to treat a perforated ear drum.

And yet, for all that, the battles are awesome.  They are everything I would hope for in a Superman battle.  Superman punches with marvelous strength; his enemy returns a blow of equal magnitude.  Superman grabs his foe, flies a mile into the air, and slams him back to earth—and leaving his mark in the form of a crater.  Watching the battles in Man of Steel, I was taken back to my childhood, which was filled with epic battles between Godzilla and King Kong, Spider-Man and Venom, and a host of other heroes and monsters who filled my toybox and my coolest daydreams.

I smirked as Superman flew General Zodd up into space, only to be smashed by his villainous foe into an orbiting satellite and thrown back into our atmosphere (both of them catch on fire as they hurtle back down to earth, and of course neither is affected negatively by this development).  Yet the smirk was not one of cynicism, but fraternal enjoyment; I knew that somewhere on the other end of this movie was someone who agreed with me that “it would be really cool if Superman grabbed him and flew up so high that he went into space, and started punching him while he was up there, and then he crashed into a satellite, and they both fell back down to earth and caught on fire…”  You get the picture.  And yes, that also goes for the absolutely awesome scene in which Superman tackles Zodd at lighting speed, rolls him through miles of dirt, punching him savagely all the while, and eventually launches him full speed into a truck filling up at a gas station.  This is in response to Zodd bullying Superman’s earthly Mom (while he’s punching Zodd, he yells, “YOU…THINK…YOU…CAN…THREATEN…MY…MOM!?!”).  For any boy who loves his own Mom, this is seriously fun to watch.

The battles are not perfect.  The effects sometimes look a little unrealistic.  It is unclear how exactly Superman wins the fight (because spoiler alert, he wins).  And they certainly display no sense of subtlety or restraint.  But sometimes we’re not in the mood for restraint.  And what better way to indulge such a mood than in a harmless and basically innocent couple of hours in a movie theater?  If you enjoyed making your action figures bash each other across the living room and get crushed by giant boulders (i.e. sofa cushions) when you were younger, you will definitely enjoy this movie.

On to the second reason I enjoyed Man of Steel: it got me thinking about spiritual things.  I am a Theology guy, and I always comb movies, books, and shows for religious, spiritual, and moral messages.  Whether good or bad, they’re always there.  Man of Steel continues the recent superhero movie trend of self-sacrifice and responsibility so wonderfully inaugurated in 2002’s Spider-Man and continued by later Marvel and Batman films.

However, there is something about this movie that goes much deeper than the others.  Man of Steel transcends mere virtue and, I contend, delves into specifically religious and Christian ideas.  Throughout the movie, Superman is presented as a sort of Christ-figure.  On the surface level: he’s 33 years old, he’s lived a life of relative obscurity leading up to his public career as a wonder-worker, his father is dead by the time he’s an adult and he is very close to his mother, and he is met with varying degrees of both admiration and suspicion by those who encounter him.

On a deeper level, we see Superman/Kal-El/Clark as a blend of humanity and superhumanity; we see him interact with and master forces the like of which any number of humans couldn’t dream of taking on; we see him courted by evil and tempted to abuse his power by prideful superhumans who consider humanity an inferior creation; we see the hope of an entire people resting on his shoulders; we see him engage in a struggle that literally no one else could begin to take up; we see him banish evil with an act of total self-sacrifice.

I will dwell on only one scene to illustrate this point.  When Superman attacks the terraforming machine in the Indian Ocean, he is weakened by the atmospheric changes surrounding the contraption.  After fighting off a set of serpentine metal tendrils in spite of his weakened state, he is forced underneath the full blast of the machine’s world-destroying might.  We see him engulfed in blue energy emanating from the machine, apparently being pushed to the limits of his resilience and strength.  It seems that he might not survive as he scrunches up his face in pain and yells in agony.  Yet just when it seems that he won’t pull through, he launches up against this stream of energy and slices through the machine’s innards in a stunning upward flight.

Perhaps it seems absurd, but this scene got me thinking about Jesus’ suffering and crucifixion.  What I saw in the movie—Superman withstanding a torrent of lethal otherworldly energy and emerging the victor—made me look at Jesus’ act of sacrifice in a new way.  Specifically, it focused my attention on the spiritual aspect of the Passion.  Of course we often consider, especially before Easter, the extreme physical suffering Jesus went through for our sake.  But we must remember that we also believe that, in taking the burden of the cross on his shoulders, Jesus was taking the weight of humanity’s guilt upon himself.  During those awful hours of torture and death, Jesus took up the unfathomable mass of man’s evil, carried it with him along the way to Calvary, and ultimately destroyed every ounce of it.  There was more negative energy—more evil, pain, guilt, shame, regret, horror, hatred, disgust, and misery—concentrated on Jesus Christ at that time than on any other person in history before or since, or ever.  How amazing is that, that he did that for us?  The blue energy that almost killed Superman in this movie is, to me, another way of expressing the spiritual aspect of Jesus’ suffering.
 

Now I should already know the amazing nature of Jesus’ sacrifice, and in some sense I do.  But seeing this computer-generated spectacle on screen today made me realize the magnitude of Christ’s spiritual agony as he faced off against the worst stuff that evil could throw at him.  In taking our guilt upon himself, Christ did the most amazing, heroic, and wonderful thing anyone has ever done or will do.

I may not be making myself clear.  We illustrate and meditate on depictions of the physical suffering of our Savior (and this is good and important).  But how often do we reflect on the spiritual aspect?  How could it have felt to carry the punishment incurred by an entire race of beings on a single man's shoulders?  It is a fearsome thing to consider.  And we just don't think about it when we see a picture of the crucifixion, because it's not something that comes through in a picture, or even in the physical event itself.  Onlookers could not see the burden of sin Jesus took up on his way to Golgotha.  It was and is a spiritual reality, accessed and understood only through faith.  We believe it, but we could never see it with our eyes.

Man of Steel is certainly not a straight allegory of Jesus.  If it was intended to be, it’s a train wreck.  But I don’t think that was the filmmaker’s intention.  Instead, I think the idea here was to illustrate certain Christian ideas and images in interesting ways.  In that sense, the movie is a complete success.

So there you have it: Man of Steel, a film for little boys and theologians.  Go see it.  I think you might enjoy it.

The Church is the Agent of Christ

Blessed John Henry Cardinal Newman.

The following is a brief reflection on the role and purpose of the Church. I wrote it after digesting much material by Bl. John Henry Newman and Maurice Blondel, two Catholic thinkers whose theology was extremely influential on modern theology. Don't be scared off by the phrase "modern theology;" for anyone who doesn't feel much affinity to Karl Rahner, give these two gents a look--you will not be disappointed, I assure you. Anyway, this was written as the result of digesting the thoughts of these two intellectual giants, as well as the mentoring of one of my greatest Theology teachers at Loyola University, Fr. Peter Bernardi. I hope you enjoy it. Keep in mind that my thoughts are not authoritative representations of Church doctrine, but my own meanderings based on what I've learned. I do intend, of course, for all these writings to adhere to Catholic teaching. Enjoy...

Maurice Blondel, looking sharp.

 
One of the jobs of the Church is to preserve the Gospel (not referring only to the 4 books in the New Testament, but to the general "Good News" of Christ and his Resurrection), offering it to the present generation and handing it on to the next. However, Jesus was not a robot who acted mechanically according to divine laws, but a person who acted spontaneously according to divine Love.  Thus, the Church must view itself less as a preserver of information and more as the agent of a life-changing and earth-shaking message.  As the spirit of Christ is continually discerned and lived out by the institution of the Church and in the lives of its members, the Gospel is preserved, offered, and handed on.

St. Peter, the keeper of the keys.

 
The Apostles were profoundly affected by their experience of Christ: seeing the things he did, how he responded to daily occurrences, how he treated other people, and ultimately how he was willing to submit to the Father's will—and, of course, his Resurrection.  In being thus affected they were made able (with the Spirit's help) to gather their experience of Christ into a coherent Gospel message.  So, in every age, the present Church acts as the hands and feet of Christ, doing his work according to the needs of the present historical moment.  But always the Church must remain faithful to its Master and Founder.  Thus, the perennial motto of the Church truly must be: "What would Jesus do?"

Humbly yours,
Joezilla

Reconciliation

Imagine being able to tell someone the worst things you’ve ever done in your life, the dirtiest little secrets that you couldn’t imagine telling anyone else about. No human person could let it slide completely. We strive for unconditional love (and some are able to come inspiringly close to achieving it completely), but there is no human being alive whose perception of us would not be at least slightly altered by such an airing of our dirty laundry. As such, we tend to put up barriers between ourselves and others. Despite what some might say, this is at times a wise course of action. Jesus taught us not to “give what is holy to dogs, or throw your pearls before swine, lest they trample them underfoot, and turn and tear you to pieces” (Matthew 7:6). I think it’s completely possible for us to throw our own dignity to the assorted dogs and swine of the world. Personal stories and unflattering details about our past need not be worn on our sleeves, because such information can be exploited by negative people.

That said, it is wholly unhealthy to barricade ourselves from the world. Humans thrive on social contact with each other, even seemingly insignificant social contact. How, then, are we to address the problem of these dirty little secrets, the sins of our past that sometimes seem to stick in our minds and hearts, gumming up the emotional works? We may shudder at the thought of sharing them with others, and so they remain locked in the confines of our own person.

For those who believe in God, there is a solution to this problem: God forgives us. God, the One to Whom we ought to be most sorry for any of our sins (because sins against other people are sins against precious aspects of His creation), holds nothing against us. Living on earth as Jesus of Nazareth, God died for us on the cross in order to forgive our sins. In a perfect world, we could fully turn to God after committing a sin and, if filled only with humble repentance, accept His unconditional love and forgiveness.

But as fragile and imperfect human beings, this task is exceedingly difficult. No, it’s actually impossible. We cannot fathom God. We cannot fully empathize with His unconditional love, because we cannot fully practice it ourselves. Accordingly, we cannot express repentance directly to Him and feel fully forgiven without retaining some shred of doubt, some question in the back of our mind.

As Catholics, we are graced with a special gift, the Sacrament of Reconciliation. Sacraments are physical signs of God’s presence in our lives, shown through specific interactions and objects. I like to think of them as portals through which God breaks into our lives more directly than anywhere else.

In Reconciliation, we have the opportunity to face another human being, a priest empowered by the grace of God, and in so doing face Christ himself, listening to us pour our hearts out, share everything we’re afraid to tell another, everything that shames us and brings us down. In Reconciliation, we plumb the depths of our shame, hit the rock bottom of our souls, scoop out all of the clutter, and let the light shine all the way in. It doesn't feel good at first, because we have to be ready to spit it all out. Sin doesn't taste as sweet on the way out. But once we let it go, we're emptied of our evil--and ready to let love take its place.

Reconciliation gives us the chance to tell God we’re sorry, and realize (through the personal presence of the priest) that God is a personal being, a personal being Who loves us unconditionally. He wants to make us better. Reconciliation is not about punishment for our sins. It is about abandoning them in the face of God’s amazing love and listening to how we can improve ourselves for the future. This is also why I believe that face-to-face Reconciliation, while it is singularly difficult for me to bring myself to take part in it, is also the most rewarding and grace-filled experience of the Sacrament that I have found.

I have heard about an experience of this Sacrament in a past era which involved an angry priest yelling at a penitent for his sins. Although I do not doubt the power of the Sacrament even in such a strange and uncomfortable situation (regardless of how the penitent felt afterward, which was probably not very good!), I cannot thank God enough for bringing our Church to its modern understanding and practice of the Sacrament. The priest is not there to judge us as God’s inquisitor, but to love us as God’s representative, and to call us to “sin no more” by offering a penance that will bring us closer to God and begin the process of improvement.

What a gift we have as Catholics—the chance to feel, through the physical presence of a fellow human being, the personal and unconditional love of the living God! The ultimate feeling that comes with Reconciliation is freedom, the blessed kind of freedom that is based in living a totally true life. When we confess our sins, there is not a trace of falsehood left within us. We have left nothing inside to be hidden from the world. Jesus was right:

Peacefully,

Joezilla

Life's Classroom

One of the greatest things about life is that it offers quiet, whispered lessons every day. It takes a lot of willingness, a bit of inner peace, and a dash of grace to hear these lessons, but I know from experience that they're there for the taking. I offer today as a wonderful example.
I was blessed with a wonderful combination this morning: beautiful weather, crackling enthusiasm, and a large chunk of free time. Accordingly, I was able to spend a few minutes raking dead grass in the yard—and, I must add, enjoying the nature! All this would have been great, but God topped it all off with some wonderful inspirations. These are those little lessons I'm talking about. I hope you enjoy them, as well.

First, I realized as I raked that happiness comes with habits. Let me be clear here. We can all have a happy moment (for instance, winning the Lottery) or a happy experience (like a dinner with old friends). This is happiness as a feeling. True happiness, what I like to call deep happiness, is more of a trait that we can nurture or neglect, much like a muscle or a skill. Happiness must be exercised. Inner peace must be a goal. This starts with physical relaxation (not sitting in an easy chair, but striving for relaxed and unhurried motion in daily life--eliminating unnecessary tension in the body), but it also requires other work, both inside and out. Gratitude must be clung to like a lifesaver, because that is precisely what it is. G.K. Chesterton wisely observed that "Thanks are the highest form of thought." Acts of service should make visible the love we have for those in our lives. Of course, there's much more, but what I realized today was that happiness, like all good things (and some really bad ones!) requires habitual action.

The second lesson was about excess—and, if I may be bold, the nature of God. I was struck by the vibrant brightness of the day out there. The sky was not just blue, it was an insanely deep, bright, fall-into-it-if-you-stare-at-it-too-long kind of blue. The evergreens weren't just green, they were a glowing, smiling, healthy, look-at-me sort of green. The birds were boisterously chirping in some great treetop debate that somehow involved the whole neighborhood. The whole of nature seemed so happy. I was filled with inner peace.

But that's the strange part--this scene was anything but peaceful on the outside. My eyes were buffeted with light and color, my ears were filled with wind and cheep-cheeps. But it soothed my spirit. Why? Well, I think it's because our God is not one of moderation. Moderation is an earthly concept, and a blessed one--it frees us from the captivity of our humanity, allowing us to set our sights on something higher than our animal impulses and desires. Moderation is one of our greatest defenses against evil. But once this life is over, moderation, I think, will be a thing of the past. If Heaven is placement in a divine family typified by perfect Love, who needs to be moderate there? I think Heaven will be excess, in the best sense of the word--God's love filling each member of the Kingdom to a degree that is now unfathomable to our mortal minds. For now, all we can do is marvel at the blue skies He sends us.

The final insight came from a quick climb of a tree. Ascending about 25 feet into the air, I was treated to an unusual perspective on the surrounding neighborhood. Seeing the trees, houses, and particularly the street from such an unusual angle flipped a switch in the back of my mind, and reminded me just how amazing everything really looks. The smooth curves of the road, expertly planned by some engineer decades ago, jumped out at me in a way I never appreciated while driving them. The houses, too, looked novel and fascinating from this unorthodox altitude.

Although I soon lost sight of this valuable perspective-shift, I remembered it while driving later in the day--and that strange elevated view of the road came back to my mind; suddenly, I was no longer just driving back from school, but instead driving on a strange and fascinating trip to a wonderful destination. That physical shift in perspective reminded me to appreciate all experience as unique. I'm indebted again to G.K. Chesterton, who said that "Every instant of conscious life is an unimaginable marvel." How true, indeed!

See what a little sunshine can do? =)

Happily,

Joezilla

The Skeptic

We don't know much about Heaven. Although we can draw on Christian revelation to acknowledge some basic facts about the place—for instance, that it is eternal and supremely fulfilling, and that it involves perfect fellowship with God—our religion is rather vague when it comes to details. I'm not just talking about the color of Heaven's wallpaper, of course, but more prickly questions like who gets in and what they have to do before they get there (yes, there's a doctrine of Purgatory, which is sort of like a training room for Heaven, but what can we say about Purgatory other than that it exists?), and—perhaps most interestingly—what happens the moment we die. Where do we go? How does it feel? These are questions whose answers do not lie on earth, and about which we can only speculate while we dwell here. What follows is just such a speculation. Join me if you will as we begin our story, on a train...

A Catholic, an Evangelical, and an atheist were riding together (this is not a joke, I promise!). Upon seeing the atheist, who was wearing a shirt that said "God is not great," the Evangelical leaned over to the Catholic and said, "He will not see Heaven. He is not saved." The Catholic answered, "I do not know."

The next moment, the train crashed, and all three men died.

Suddenly they stood in a long line of people. Jesus stood in front of the line, speaking to each person for a brief moment before sending them to his left or to his right.

When the atheist came to Jesus, he was asked, "Who do you say that I am?" The atheist, visibly struck by his experience and by the Lord's loving gaze, fell prostrate and cried, "My Lord and my God!" The Lord immediately welcomed him to Paradise.

When the Catholic stepped forward, Jesus asked, "What do you want me to do for you?" The Catholic genuflected and said, "O Lord, have mercy on me, a sinner!" Jesus answered, "Your sins are forgiven," and welcomed him into Paradise.

Finally, the Evangelical came forward. Jesus asked him, "Where are you going?" After a momentary pause, the Evangelical's quiet response was, "I don't know." Instantly the Lord embraced him and led him into Paradise.

THE END.

Holy Hill

Today my family and I made our first pilgrimage—excluding our annual trek to the Thanksgiving table, of course. We visited the National Shrine of Mary, Help of Christians, situated atop lofty Holy Hill in Wisconsin. The site is considered by many to be a place of miraculous healings, and a collection of crutches, canes, and leg-braces—abandoned by the recipients of such divine help—attest to the fact. It is certainly a special place, endowed with what seems to us a more direct access to the Almighty.

Today, it was also a bustling place. Crowds flocked to Holy Hill to partake not only of its religious offerings, but also its beautiful autumn colors. For my family, a myriad of adventures contributed to the day’s fullness, and describing any one of them could conceivably take up a sizeable chunk of eternity. However, one aspect of the trip returned to my mind’s eye late in the day, and so—with sincere apologies to the arresting vistas, the dazzling Church positively charged with grace, and the mini-miracle of the vitalizing holy water—I zoom in on one moment of today’s events, which occurred rather early in the itinerary.

We were making the arduous journey up the main hill, climbing uneven wood-framed steps to ascend to the Church’s entrance for 12:30 Mass. I noticed a man on his way down whose build seemed to tell the story of a once-active individual, unfortunately shackled now by an injured leg. With his knee wrapped in some sort of brace, he struggled to limp down the stairs, attended by his wife. At the sight of him a gray cloud of pity and sadness temporarily arose in my thoughts, in spite of the sunny blue skies surrounding us. Had this pilgrim come hoping for a miracle? If so, I sadly reflected, he was now descending the mountain, heading home in the same condition he had arrived. There was no miracle here for him. I turned back to look at him after he had passed by, wished him a silent blessing, and continued on my way.

A little reflection, if performed in the right spirit, can go a long way in dispelling unwelcome gloom. And the maxim stands admirably in this case. Miracles are wonderful occurrences, but they are not guaranteed rewards for belief. Jesus himself acknowledged the hard truth that miracles do not always come when expected: “There were many lepers in Israel during the time of Elisha the prophet; yet not one of them was cleansed, but only Naaman the Syrian” (Luke 4:27). Nor are miracles litmus tests for God’s power—or His love. A faith that could be shattered by the lack of a miracle could be shattered by many other things as well—and strictly speaking, could not be called faith if it relied on the evidence a miracle would provide. But most importantly, miracles come in all shapes and sizes. Even Holy Hill’s website points out that “some healings are gradual while others are dramatic and instant.” I saw that man limping down the steps of Holy Hill at 12:15 today. I did not see him climb into his car. I did not see him eating dinner. I will not see him ten or twenty years from now. But God will, and who can imagine what He might have planned for this man? Remember, we’re talking about the Person Who invented snow. God is the source and summit of creativity.

We humans have a pesky habit of seeing life solely in terms of our extremely limited perspective. That was my failure when I faced that man and thought about his condition. The same failure might attend someone upon hearing about Holy Hill’s unfortunate defacement in 2006. It seems that, moved with the zeal that only the calendar can inspire, a couple of lost souls vandalized Holy Hill’s main Church on June 6, 2006 (aren’t they clever?) with profane graffiti. Of course this is sad news, and rightfully evokes a range of emotions on the part of believers. That said, the one emotion that it should not evoke is fear. Although it might seem natural to shudder at such demonstrations of stark and burning evil, it is actually quite unnatural to fear it. C.S. Lewis has a helpful (and rather hilarious) insight for us here: “A man can no more diminish God's glory by refusing to worship Him than a lunatic can put out the sun by scribbling the word 'darkness' on the walls of his cell.” The same could be said for the walls of a church.

What threat do a handful of anti-social youths pose to the Catholic Church? For that matter, what threat would a vast army of Satan’s followers pose? Even if Catholicism represented a tiny minority within a world of demonic enemies, it would be no less safe, no less serene, than it is right now and always has been. As Simon and Garfunkel so eloquently testified in a rather obscure song, “You can burn down my churches, but I shall be free.” We are people of God, and our hope comes not from the physical well-being of ourselves or our most treasured places and objects, but from the unshakeable, irresistible, unavoidable presence of God, Who created us, lovingly sustains us at every moment, and has promised salvation to all who believe in Him and act accordingly. The desecration (or even destruction, God forbid) of a church does not even graze the supernatural surface of the Church. That is God’s property, upon which no man or spirit may malevolently trespass.

As I said, we tend to see life from limited perspectives. Thankfully, our faith has a way of reminding us that life is so much bigger, so much better, than our fallen natures and tragic experiences lead us to believe. Christianity, though it comes to us in physical forms like Sacraments and miracles, speaks of a truth that lies beyond our world. So even if that man’s leg never heals in this life, he will still be able to meet God in prayer, receive Him in the Eucharist, and thank Him for the blessings gratuitously bestowed with each dawning day. And so can we.

May the blessings of God reach you wherever you are today, and may you happily accept them.

Sincerely,
Joezilla

Does God Disappoint Us?

A loving God would not place desires in our hearts, and dreams in our souls, if He did not also offer us opportunities to fulfill them, or offer opportunities for greater things, thereby surpassing the dreams we began with.

I have spoken to many people who worry that they will never see their dreams fulfilled. I offer in response a word of encouragement and a word of caution.

To encourage, I say that God knows your heart, and will not sneak opportunities past you. When the time comes for a choice that will decide your destiny,—and don’t kid yourself that such choices come only rarely—God will make the time to act clear, and He thus will pass control of your life into your hands…provided your eyes are open and you are ready to act boldly. And here is where the word of caution comes in.

We are not put on this earth to be made happy by God. God wants us to be happy, yes, but happiness is merely the result—not the goal—of our mission: growing closer to God, becoming holy, cultivating spirits strong and passionate, but also light and loving. And if we do not devote ourselves—at least as best as we are able—to these pursuits, all the promises necessitated by God’s loving nature are not as clearly guaranteed; this is not because He would refuse to offer opportunities for fulfillment to any of His children,—He will always offer them—but because if we are not prepared to face our destinies when they approach, we may not recognize them, or find ourselves too fearful to respond properly.

But if we are always working toward self-improvement with God’s help, then we just have to be patient, and continue to live in hope.

Hopefully,
Joezilla

I Have A Confession To Make

“I couldn’t accept it in theory, but it made sense in practice.” This was the statement I found myself making in a conversation with one of my closest friends about the Sacrament of Reconciliation.

We’re both devout Catholics who have always gladly partaken of the Sacraments applicable to our stage in life, but we have, admittedly, also shared some reservations about Reconciliation. This didn’t stop us from participating in it, but certain problems have tended to pop up in our conversations about it. The quote printed at the top of this post reveals the epiphany I am slowly enjoying regarding the Sacrament: I am now realizing how important regular Reconciliation is to a committed Catholic life. As I feel particularly inspired tonight, I would like to address the two chief concerns that have sometimes weathered away confidence in the Sacrament.

The first is the fact that Reconciliation consists partly of confessing one’s sins to another human being—imperfect, subjective, and susceptible to sin. Confidentiality might worry some, but I can assure anyone plagued by such worries that it is a truly confidential affair. Every priest I have ever heard speak about hearing confession has testified that it is a humbling privilege, and that they can feel the Holy Spirit working through them in their ability to listen, to speak words of comfort or advice, and to assign an appropriate penance. They also value the Seal of Confession—the priestly duty to keep penitents’ sins completely confidential—as highly as anything else in their profession. In short, they take Reconciliation seriously.

But this is not the issue that bothered us. The real problem with confessing to another man, one might argue, is that the action is ultimately just that—confession to another human soul. Why the need for an intermediary? Well, simply put, Reconciliation is a Sacrament, and like any other Sacrament, its administration requires someone who has been endowed with the authority and power to do so. Just as the consecration of the Eucharist requires an ordained priest, so Reconciliation requires a priestly intermediary.

You could, if you so choose, picture the priest’s authority and power as a sort of special machine that only he possesses. If someone who doesn’t have the machine—i.e. is not ordained—attempts to perform a priestly function, said function will have no certain effect. On the other hand, our faith tells us—with the same assurance that it tells us everything else—that a priest’s Sacramental actions are real—real in the highest sense, which is the supernatural sense. If I enter the confessional with my aunt Sally and proceed to confess my deepest sins to her, she can listen and offer advice and even suggest what I might do to fix my broken relationship with God—but she cannot offer the guarantee of complete and total forgiveness, by the power of Christ and in the name of the Catholic Church, that an ordained priest could and would offer. Furthermore, there is no guarantee that she will keep it silent.

Finally, strictly speaking, the priest is not the one who is forgiving you—he is acting in persona Christi, in the person of Christ. Jesus Christ is present in every confessional booth, listening to your sins, leading you back to him, and loving you fully all the while.

This leads to the next potentially questionable aspect of Reconciliation. Simply put, Jesus died on the cross, and through his passion and death he bore the weight of all of our sins—which were forgiven through his unfathomable act of sacrifice and atonement. Why, then, do we need to go and get forgiven again? Doesn’t Jesus love us anyway?

Well, to answer the last question right away, yes—Jesus loves us no matter what. St. Paul made this clear when he asserted that “Nothing can separate us from the love of God” in his letter to the Romans. Given this, why do we say that someone might not get to Heaven if they die without having confessed their sins?

In order to answer this question, we need to briefly talk about what Hell really means in Catholic theology. Of course, volumes and volumes could be written about this subject, but in a nutshell Hell is complete and eternal separation from God, brought on by—and this is the important part—our refusal to accept His love. The only way we can get to Hell is by saying no to God and slamming the door in His amazing face. God’s will for us is clear: He wants us to be united with Him, each person remaining unique but joined with Him and with one another in an unshakeable bond of intimate love unlike anything on Earth. In order to be united with God, Who is perfect, we must first be made perfect. Jesus gave us the Sacraments to help bring us closer to this goal before we complete the job in Purgatory.

That said, it becomes clear that Reconciliation is not the act of God listening, evaluating our penitence, and reluctantly saying, “Okay, I’ve changed my mind. I forgive you!” No—God doesn’t change. He’s perfect and He’s outside of time. No change there. Reconciliation is in fact about us, and how we change in the presence of God and His amazing love. This is not to say that a supernatural sort of transaction has not taken place, of course. On the contrary, God actually does wipe our slate clean when we are absolved. Our sins are forgiven, as the priest tells us after we are absolved. But God’s will has not changed, only our relationship with Him, and our ability to relate to Him once again. The disunion is mended. We are no longer standing in our own way, tripping ourselves as we try to walk toward God.

Jesus’ suffering and death did pay for all our sins. The New Testament testifies to this truth as much as it testifies to any other. However, like the debris accumulated in an air filter, sin has had an effect on us, and we need the Sacrament of Reconciliation to be wiped clean. It’s not about having God erase the checkmarks by your name on the heavenly report card; on the contrary, it’s about God making you ready to come closer to Him again. When we have consciously committed a sin we cannot get as close to God, because sin is separation from God. We cannot choose closeness and separation and expect to achieve either one. If we try, our spiritual life becomes superficial, dishonest, and dull. And under those conditions, we’re shooting ourselves in the foot before we start walking.

I like to call it Reconciliation. This is a more complete name for the Sacrament than “confession,” which forgets to include the whole absolution part—which is, needless to say, kind of important! Yes, I’m finally coming around on Reconciliation. I hope that this post will help you do the same, dear readers.

Authentically,
Joezilla

Guided Drift and the Paradox of Faith

"I am glad that I've been able to do what I've done and not been sidetracked along the way. A teacher of mine calls it guided drift. Isn't that wonderful? You're drifting, and yet you've got a rudder."

As Mr. Rogers so satisfyingly puts it in the quote above, life becomes a positive pleasure when we know where we're going and allow this knowledge of our course to give us peace. In order to live effective lives we need to have a purpose, a continuous thread that unites our individual days into a coherent work. That is why Mr. Rogers talks about having a rudder. We need to guide ourselves, and we need to rely on something to give us that guidance.

For a long time I looked at life believing that we all have some inspired moments, and we also have a great many uninspired moments. We must live (so I thought) on those inspirations to get us through the uninspired periods of life, which are far more common. There is a grain of truth in this. We do have peak experiences of happiness, hope, promise, joy, and love—followed by the proverbial descent back to planet Earth, in which we remember our troubles (and perhaps feel a little gloomy that we aren't so inspired anymore).

That said, I now realize that it is not enough merely to live on the inspired moments, like rations on a trip through the desert. No, I believe that God calls us to something greater than that. You see, people living solely on previous inspirations—and waiting for future ones—are not focusing on the day-to-day business of life. They are attaching themselves to that song that used to empower them so much, or they are voraciously rereading that one quote that used to give them such confidence, or talking to that one friend who always cheers them up...the list goes on and on. The point is, they are chasing that feeling rather than living it out. They could be cheering someone else up. Instead, they're focusing on how much they themselves need cheering up.

One of the greatest pieces of advice my Mom has ever given me is: "The best solution for depression is to do something for someone else—to get out of yourself." It is so true, and will doubtless lead to better spirits if we are feeling depressed.

But what about all the moments inbetween the highs and lows? What about the average days, when we drift through our daily grind with no sense of inspiration or mission? We need some thread of constancy to call us back to living our best.

The answer, as is often the case, lies in a common word with a life-changing meaning:

FAITH.

Faith is the answer. Now when I say "faith," I don't just mean "religious belief." I am talking about a lifestyle—a worldview that we can call up with an act of the will, and should work to maintain in every waking (and sleeping) moment. If we can manage to make it part of our modus operandi, it will change our lives—I'll place a 100% guarantee on that.

This worldview has two big components.

The first is the consciousness of God and His plan. The person of faith believes, deep inside, that there is a God Who loves us all and Who has a plan for every individual—a plan that, if followed, will bring them to the self-fulfillment of their highest dreams and deepest longings. I say "self-fulfillment" because we play a role in this plan. We create our own reality, at least in terms of how we respond to the outside world.

But the person of faith can take all of this in stride and proceed peacefully because he knows that if he follows God's commands, then things will go rightly for him. Life will be good. Unexpected events may happen (look at the story of Job!), but God has a plan. We can move forward in peace and happiness, because it all turns out okay in the end. It's pretty amazing, actually. Imagine being able to walk through life in perfect peace. In theory, we can do just that—because God has told us that He loves us and wants the best for us.

That's one part of faith. The other is prayer. God loves us, and wants the best for us. He also wants us to grow closer to Him. One way of describing Heaven, in fact, is a perfect relationship with God. Nothing gets in the way. We remain ourselves, but we are united with Him in some unimaginable and infinitely wonderful way.

But that comes later. Right now, stuff gets in the way. Lots of stuff. Problems, people, things, emotions, sins...the list once again goes on and on! But God has given us ways around these impediments. One of the foremost of these—one of the most foundational practices for a Christian—is prayer. Praying is communing with the Creator. It's a way of accepting His constant, daily calls and saying, "I love you too, God. Now what do you want to tell me today?"

For years, I have vastly underestimated the transformative potential of prayer in the individual life. But now I see that prayer is that thread of constancy. It is what keeps us close to God, even in the midst of struggles. Saying the Rosary or part of the Rosary (a decade or two) every day is such a great way to do this. It will have a lovely effect on your life. Fulton J. Sheen once described saying the Rosary as "saying 'I love You' to our Father." I believe he was right. If you've never prayed the Rosary before, feel free to check out this link for all the instructions and prayers: http://www.rosary-center.org/howto.htm.

Now, I know what you're thinking (if indeed there is anyone out there to be thinking anything): "Great. You've pontificated on faith, but you haven't answered the question of how we stop the roller coaster ride of ecstatic highs, gloomy lows, and wishy-washy times inbetween. I don't think that talking about faith means I'll never feel down again."

Ah, but therein lies the paradox of faith! Faith is not about inspiration or emotion. Faith is believing that your spiritual life is significant, that what you pray makes a difference. Faith is believing that when you pray—whether you feel inspired or not—you are doing something of unfathomable significance. Faith is a lifeline that carries us through whether we are experiencing a high, a low, or a "sideways." It does not guarantee us a life of constant inspiration, but it allows us to avoid that need altogether—because it gives us a higher perspective on life. When we lift our concerns up to God, He lifts us up too.

It's all about that guided drift Mr. Rogers talked about. Faith is our rudder, our guide, but it also gives enough peace to let us drift.

Here's to an hour, day, week, month, year, and life of guided drift,

Joezilla

Jeremiah 23:32

Jeremiah 23:32

Yes, I am against the prophets who prophesy lying dreams, says the LORD, and who lead my people astray by recounting their lies and by their empty boasting. From me they have no mission or command, and they do this people no good at all, says the LORD.

God has no kind words for the false prophets of Jeremiah’s day. Instead of role modeling for the people with genuine lives and honest proclamations, they lived according to their own inclinations and provided sugarcoated prophecies to the people. It may have made everyone feel warm and fuzzy inside, but it was, in fact, the worst of times to pull such a shenanigan.

In fact, “the worst of times,” if we may borrow from Charles Dickens, would be a great way to describe the situation of Jerusalem at the time. Babylon’s growing power threatened to wipe Jerusalem off the map; the 590s B.C. would see a siege of the city, as well as the humiliating deportation of its king, at the forceful hands of Nebuchadnezzar II. It seemed as if things just couldn’t get any worse.

This problem could have been avoided. Jeremiah’s messages from God reveal that all of this misfortune was the direct result of the people’s infidelity to the covenant with God. Had they remained faithful in the power of Yahweh to deliver them from the evil nations that threatened them (instead of resorting to treaties with other evil nations for extra security), had they retained the purity and devotion of their religious life (instead of copying the disgusting practices of child sacrifice and ritual prostitution practiced by other nations), had they broken out of selfish mindsets and lived according to a rigid moral compass (instead of bending to their own self-interest and oppressing the lowliest of their people), God would have delivered them.

The historical facts may make us scratch our heads and wonder if this deliverance could really have happened, even if the Israelites had been faithful to the max—but stop scratching your head for a moment and consider that this is the exact feeling that the Israelites had at the time. A lack of faith. This lack of faith is what led to Jerusalem’s destruction at the hands of Babylon.

Amen, I say to you, if you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, “Move from here to there,” and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you.

So this is the situation of Jerusalem around the time that God (through Jeremiah) rails against the false prophets. Right when the people need to straighten up and fly right, the poser prophets have to come in and pat them on the back for doing a nice job. Hence, we can understand His position. But this is not merely an outburst of almighty frustration; God is telling us something that resonates truly in any age, in any place, and for any person.

Look at what Jeremiah says about the false prophets:

From me they have no mission or command, and they do this people no good at all, says the LORD.

Have you ever felt a keen sense of mission? Perhaps you’ve been working on a project or leading a seminar or retreat. Perhaps your work was more long-term, like starting an organization or raising a child. Whatever the case, you have felt it—a sort of pull from the future, a vision of success that calls to you and gives you the inspiration to keep working, as hard as you can, to achieve your goal. Without a mission, we could accomplish nothing. D-Day was a success because level-headed officers and soldiers, in the midst of unspeakable chaos, were able to look past it all and figure out a way to achieve their mission objectives.

God gives each of us a mission, too, but we can only discern this mission—feel it, resonating in our bones like a song—when we are doing His will. If we drift away from the covenant that Jesus made with mankind when he shed his blood for us, we forget our mission; we go off-road; we may even crash and burn, like the Israelites of yore.

What is your mission? Have you listened for it lately? Have you felt it lately? Renew your commitment to God; purify your mind and heart, and you will be able to hear your mission.

God always makes it clear that He wants to work with us. Jeremiah tells us today that when we remain faithful to God, He gives our lives mission, meaning, purpose. It is up to us to choose to accept it.

Be doers of the word and not hearers only, deluding yourselves. For if anyone is a hearer of the word and not a doer, he is like a man who looks at his own face in a mirror. He sees himself, then goes off and promptly forgets what he looked like. (James 1:22-24)

Christianity and Islam: Not the Same God

I’ve grown pretty tired of hearing a certain adage that has unfortunately become par for the course in any discussion about Islam and Christianity. I refer to the idea that “Christians and Muslims worship the same God.” Or, in its more stylish (though technically more confusing) form, “God and Allah are the same.” This notion is corrosive to an honest and critical understanding of religious differences, leading to a false sense of interreligious agreement, which usually requires one or both faiths to deny their true identity. And that is the biggest problem with the “Allah = God” idea—it denies important aspects of both religions.

Now before getting into this, let’s take care of the obvious objections. Yes, Allah means “God” in Arabic. And yes, Arab Christians use the term Allah to signify the God of Christianity. And yes once more, many or most Muslims are happy to translate the word Allah as “God.” But to hook onto mere names and words is to misjudge the depth of the argument here. We are examining not the name that each faith gives to God, but the words, actions, and attributes of God in each faith. In Islam and Christianity, these are quite different, even if they are both called “God.”

REVELATION: THE WAY TO UNDERSTANDING

How do we, as faithful people, learn about God? The answer, of course, is revelation. Revelation, in the traditional sense, is the transmission of God’s Truth into the world through various means. In Christian and Muslim contexts, revelation was memorized, transmitted orally, and later written down, or written down from the start. Revelation is important because it is our foundation for any claims about God; without it, the tools of reason and practical experience can only help us speculate about God. Add revelation to the mix, though, and the human mind and memory have something to work with. This phenomenon could be expressed as a simple equation:

Revelation + Reason + Experience = Knowledge of God

But the important fact to remember is that revelation is the most important component of the equation above. If the Qur’an states about God that “He created all things and He is All Knowing of all things” (6.101), then we don’t need to do much logical reasoning to understand this. It’s a pretty clear statement about God. And we certainly could not employ reason or experience to contest a claim of revelation. The point is, revelation is the first and foremost factor in understanding God from a Christian or Muslim perspective, and so we must give it higher priority than anything else when comparing the two religions.

So let’s do that, and see if Christians and Muslims really worship the same God.

“THE GOSPEL TRUTH”

In the 4th Sura (the Qur’anic equivalent of a chapter in the Bible), it is written:

O People of the Book! Do not commit excesses in your religion: Nor say anything except the truth about God. Messiah Isa (Christ Jesus), the son of Maryam (Mary) was a messenger of God, and His Word, which He sent down to Maryam, and a Spirit created by Him: So believe in God and His messengers. Do not say “Trinity”: Stop: It will be better for you: Because God is One God: Glory be to Him…. (4.171)

This passage is an answer to the Christian claim that Jesus, as the second person of the Holy Trinity, is the Son of God. For the sake of historical context, note that the Christian claim about Jesus predates the Muslim one by about 550 years! But I digress. The point here is simply that the Qur’an clearly speaks against the idea of a Triune God, divesting Jesus of his divinity and emphasizing the oneness of God.

Christians, on the other hand, beg to differ about Jesus, and consequently about God. As Jesus testifies in the Gospel of John,

The Father and I are one. (10:30)

And lest anyone point out that John’s Gospel pushes the divinity of Jesus harder than the other Gospels, let’s throw in the final verses of Matthew’s Gospel, for both good measure and a solid demonstration of the Trinitarian formula:

Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, until the end of the age. (28:19-20)

The point here, plain and simple, is that Muslims worship a God of total, inviolable unity. This principle of God’s oneness is in fact the first part of the shahadah, the concise profession of faith that one must make in order to become a Muslim. This principle is, by any Muslim’s admission, the core of Islamic belief about God.

Contrast this image of God with that of Christianity. God is one unity expressed in three persons: God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit. Christians accept the admittedly confusing mystery of the Trinity as essential to their faith because it was handed down to them from revelation and through tradition, but they do not see themselves as worshipping more than one God.

But is this one God the same as the one God worshipped by the Muslims? Unless Muslims consider Jesus to be God (they don’t), or Christians consider God to be a Unity rather than a Trinity (they don’t), we are dealing with two very different images of God here.

CONCLUSION

When Christians say that they worship “the same God” as their Muslim brothers and sisters, they are allying themselves with a God who denies the divinity of Jesus. Do Christians really want to make such a claim? The same is true for Muslims. When they identify their own God as “the same” as the God of Christianity, they are adopting God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit as objects of their veneration. If they do not agree to do this, then they are not worshipping the God of Christianity.

We are entering an age in which religious understanding will become perhaps more important than ever before; as such, religious self-understanding takes on an even more breathtaking urgency. It will not help to claim erroneous similarities between religions in the hopes of breaking down barriers, when those barriers are foundational and essential assertions of each faith. There are differences; we must learn and embrace these differences if we want our faith to retain its astounding power in the world, the blazing power of Truth, unadulterated. If all faith was actually the same, there would be only one faith.

The Highest Form of Thought

How soon we forget…

Isn’t it amazing how quickly we can lose sight of the good things people have said or done to us in the past? How easy is it for us to snap at someone who, a mere span of days or hours ago, brought us immense joy with a funny joke, or brought us to our senses with an honest comment, shot straight from hip and heart? We like to speak of overlooking someone’s faults and giving the benefit of the doubt. But how much more often it is that we overlook the gifts and graces of others, and assume the worst about them! Perhaps it is only I who do this, but I suspect that most are alike in this bad way. What are we to do? The only answer is, commit. Commit ourselves to gratefulness, to wonder—in short, to love.

Special shout-out to TobyMac, whose great song “Hold On” reminded me of this stuff today. Have a listen—it may change the course of your day as it did mine!

http://play.napster.com/track/31568383

Wake up to the morning sun,

Thank the Lord for the things He’s done

Lift your eyes to the Hope that's ever True...

With the love of a stalwart friend, and thankfully!

Joezilla

A Biting Truth

"YEOWCH!"
I winced as I felt my teeth sink hard upon the inside of my cheek, showering my head with burning pain—I had just witnessed, all-too-firsthand, the dangers of eating a bagel too quickly. I immediately adjusted my manner of eating. A moment ago, my highest priority had been chewing the bagel before all the delectable cinnamon-sugar melted away; now I shifted to the more practical goal of not chewing up the inside of my mouth.

As the pain and my reactive wince subsided, I began contemplating what had just happened. I had not bitten myself of my own accord; for whatever reason, God willed that seemingly unfortunate event. I began to gaze warily at my surroundings. What else could God will at this moment? Might the roof come tumbling down upon my unsuspecting head? Or, perhaps, would the lake outside the window, in roaring tsunamic rampage, surge forward and wipe away the building in which I dined? Pondering such potential pains (all of which outweighed my bitten mouth by serious degrees), I finally began to understand what "fear of the Lord" means.

My rather macabre reveries revealed an underlying assumption which I'd never truly faced before: God has the power to do whatever He wants to us. Truly, the concept of an all-powerful deity, taken alone, contains some frightful implications. If God so chose, He could fly us up to the stratosphere, spin us around 18 times, then drop us like skydivers without parachutes. He could cause a rainstorm of rocks to thunder upon us—indoors. Dare I mention it, He could even cause the song "Thriller" to play, in a sort of eternal repeat mode, unceasingly through the maddened corridors of our own minds.

There is quite literally nothing that He could not do to us, if He so chose. Now thankfully, our religion tells us that He will most likely not do any of this. God loves us, and His actions in Scripture make that resoundingly clear. But the fact remains, and the story of Job stands out as an unsettling reminder of this, that God has the power to do whatsoever He wants.

Now a moment's reflection on this fact ought not result in fearful frenzy or dead-eyed depression. Quite the contrary, in fact—because such a solid conviction of God's power results in an equally-solid conviction of our own powerlessness.

At any moment, we could be rendered deaf and dumb for the rest of our days. Why should that scare us? It should just shock us into the realization that we aren't here for our own fulfillment. We are so powerless that we can't possibly fulfill ourselves, no matter how hard we try. Everything temporal that we've worked for and continue to work for—it could all be wiped away in a second. If that were to happen, what would remain? Self-fulfillment is not our job.

It comes as a surprise to remember this, every now and then. We are not here to fulfill our own desires, but to obey the Will of He Who made us. It's a simple but foundational change in perspective, a true inversion of our priorities. And it helps a lot. Of course, the greatest paradox arrives when we learn that God's Will is to fulfill us, but that fulfillment will only come when we submit ourselves to Him, cutting every string, surrendering every cheap battle, and embracing every human spirit with an open heart and a thankful soul.

Who knew that biting yourself could be so great?

Fearing the Lord (in a good way),
Joezilla