On The Right

I bless the LORD who counsels me;

even in the night my heart exhorts me.

I set the LORD ever before me;

with him at my right hand I shall not be disturbed.

-psalm 16:8*

God at my right hand.

Feels a little - ego-centric - doesn't it? The Lord before me - YES! The Lord at my right hand?

Shouldn't that be the other way around? Me at HIS right hand, at HIS service, at HIS beck & call. HIS handmaiden. Reliable, trustworthy, dependable.

As is my habit when presented with such a Biblical conundrum - I went down the rabbit-hole in search of a deeper interpretation. Something to help me understand King David's mindset when writing about God being his right hand.

There is a premise suggested that Psalm 16 is a "miktam" of David. A literal song. And his first verse is:

Keep me safe, O God, for in you I take refuge.

A song dedicated to God and the plea for God's security in life. How apropos. My present life is consumed with the need to feel "safe". For so many reasons. This bold reminder that God keeps me safe, always, is one I didn't see coming and is further proof of the workings of the Lord. All I did today is go for the day's readings (see note at the bottom). Picked a verse that I liked and went from there.

Yeah, God isn't moving in my life. No, nothing like that. /sarcasm

My research** suggests that having "God at my right hand" is a place of honor and importance. And from my human point of view - it is arrogant to believe God should want to be at my right hand. Doesn't he have more important things to do?

But then I remove myself from the equation (as we should do) and realize that God wants to be in this priority position in my life. 

Because that is where he belongs. The first, last, and always in our lives. The Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End (Revelation 22:13). The only thing that is a constant - unshakeable, unconditional love for us. For our safety. For our protection. For our salvation.

Do we see God the way King David did? As our refuge, our guide, the ultimate honor for us to have God as our right hand? By our side, guiding us, having everything in His control? 

For 2026 this is my singular prayer all day, every day: to trust that God has my back. 

*this is part of the daily readings for Saturday April 18, 2026 per the Roman Catholic Missal.

**My primary resource for my rabbit-hole wanderings is a magnificent tome - "New Collegeville Bible Commentary" by Daniel Durken. (Wow - this book wasn't inexpensive when I purchased it about 7 years ago; it is now twice the price I paid, at $125!). This book has been a fantastic way to get more meaning from the Bible. It is more than a deep dive into every single verse in every Book.

Once More

Hello friends. It's been a full year since I posted in this space. SO much has happened. As I alluded in my last post of April 6, 2025 - there was tons going on and not much of it good.

My darling, beloved hubby was diagnosed with cancer in March 2025. The world's rarest cancer - 
Sarcoma. They represent just 1% of all cancers diagnosed each year. And to add to the rarity, Sarcomas have 50 sub-types. 50. Five. Zero. Jim's specific cancer was a Liposarcoma - a fat cell run amuk. Talk about vanishingly rare.

And to make it just that much more traumatic - in a location that 8 Chief Oncologists in 4 different hospitals - had never seen before.

Yeah, we skipped to the head of the line and only saw "Chiefs" during this journey. From a well-respected hospital in Hartford, CT to the world renowned Dana-Farber Cancer Institute to the also world-renowned MA General Hospital. Oh yeah, and I can't forget the world famous Smilow Cancer Institute at Yale New Haven Hospital.

So the very happy news is - he is fine. So far so good, no recurrence and no spread. He will be screened every 3 months for the next 5 years, then every 6 months for another 10 years, then annually for the rest of his life.

Talk about the wake-up call no one wants. And pretty much the ultimate test of our faith. Hubby leaned into that pretty quickly. Surrendered it all to God in an act of breathtaking faith and trust. He stills feels that way, one year later. God had him in His hands and all would be well.

The testing of my faith - continues right to this moment. My ability to trust is nearly non-existent. A childhood filled with abuse and an adulthood marred by ongoing manipulations...will do that to a person.

I am the kind of person who doesn't just have a Plan A - I also have a B, C, and D (at least) for everything. I must anticipate all possible outcomes so I can be prepared.

Except nothing prepares you for when your beloved spouse's life is threatened. No matter how many plans I made, no matter how much work I did to ensure all appointments, tests, etc...were accounted for and solidly set-up, confirmed, and communicated - it was never enough to rid me of my fear.

That I would lose him to cancer. 

Yet despite all my best efforts to plan - every single corner had "other plans" waiting for me. More tests, massive radiation treatment plans, and a surgery that would result in a permanent physical deficit for him.

And again, he showed me what real faith looks like. He never once complained. Oh he cried a bit here and there. He got extremely frustrated with himself. Yet his faith in God's plans for him never wavered. There was no wobble. Just his steadfast belief that God had everything in control.

Me? Not so much.

I prayed all day every day for hubby's safety thru all this. For the surgical outcome to be the best it could be given the circumstances. I had faith enough to pray to God.

I didn't believe though. Didn't believe that he would take hubby thru it and out the other side - if not whole then whole-enough. Safe & healthy.

And here we are - 13 months post-diagnosis, 8 months post-radiation, 7 months post-op - and hubby is thriving. Adjusting to his "new normal". Living his life. His new-found life.

{This new life is FAR better than the first option presented by Dana Farber. The tumor was on the largest muscle in your body - the one that controls your ability to lift your leg from the hip and allow you to raise & bend that leg from the knee. The muscle was so compromised by the tumor that it could not be saved. Full removal was the only option. With the critical nerves involved, Dana Farber advocated full amputation of his leg, at the hip. They even used the words "dire situation" to describe it. (Even a year after that appointment, we are not over the trauma it caused.) Ironically, they recommended a 2nd opinion from MA General Hospital; they doubled-down on their recommendation by saying we needed to "hear it from someone else". We pursued that 2nd opinion and found a masterful surgeon, physician, and human being at MA General. He was stunned at the Dana Farber plan and assured us it would not be necessary. Thanks be to God (yeah, more irony for me) he was right. With a couple of physical limitations, hubby kept his leg and it functions pretty well. As the surgeon said:  You'll walk - it won't be pretty but it will be on your own 2 legs.}

Me? I remain a work in progress. I still pray everyday but it's changed a bit - for God's mercy to heal me, to help me accept that God is in control. And that no matter what happens, God still wants the best for us.

A friend recently said this: Sometimes I think there are 2 options for Purgatory - the one we all know about - you die and go to Purgatory to be purified. The other - you go thru Purgatory in your lifetime and don't face it after your death.

I rather like that POV.

P.S. I shall be starting up blogging again. :-) 

Healed

So...it's been awhile. Lots going on, some of it great and some it not good at all. And we turn to prayer as often as possible. For the good to continue and for God's mercy on the not good.

During Mass last night I was struck, as I usually am, by the phrase we say after consecration:

Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof but only say the word and my soul shall be healed.

These words are taken straight from the Gospel of St. Matthew, Chapter 8, verse 8. Spoken by a Roman Centurion as he pled for Jesus to heal his servant. The idea of a Roman submitting to the will of God thru Jesus is as much an oxymoron today as it must have been for Jesus. Due to the Centurion's humility, Jesus healed his servant.

These words are now the final Eucharistic prayer in the Mass, recited before receiving Holy Communion, expressing humility and gratitude for the gift of Christ.

For me, it is the words "...my soul shall be healed." (In the verse in Matthew this is about the Centurion indicating that if Jesus only says the word his servant will be healed.)

Not might be.

Not could be.

Shall be...

As a Christadelphian I was always told God's mercy and my salvation were something up for debate. In the presence of Jesus on the last day my repentance might not be enough for my healing.

Imagine growing up with that in your head. You had to be "good" and if you sinned, repent as you went thru life. Asking for God's forgiveness. But on judgement day...well let's just say things could go awry swiftly and permanently.

As I studied to convert to Catholicism we spent a class focusing on the Eucharistic portion of the Mass. Prayers, consecration, receiving Communion. We had readings to do prior to each class. For this lesson it was the history of the Eucharist, the origins of the prayers, and our conduct during Mass. When I came to that line...

It rocked my foundations. To the depth of my being - I remember having to stop the study session at home so I could gather myself. I broke down sobbing and couldn't continue.

All my life, up to that point, I truly believed that no matter what I did I might never have eternal life.

And there, in black & white, from the mouth of a Roman and recorded by St. Matthew - was my salvation.

Five simple words. Five short syllables. It was there the whole time. During my time as a Christadelphian I know I heard that reading every year. Not once did anyone call that out for what it is - our redemption thru our faith in Jesus Christ.

I recall feeling - betrayed by my family. Betrayed by all the people I had trusted as a child. They terrorized me with their exhortations and sunday school. They took the words of Jesus and surrounded them with a cloud of fear.

Imagine what that did to me as a child. A vulnerable, abused kid/teenager looking for mercy wherever I could find it because I sure as heck didn't get it at home. 

Imagine what that did to me as 40-something adult. A still vulnerable seeker, trying to heal from all that abuse, praying for some kind of intervention for absolution.

And there it was - staring at me from every Bible I had ever touched or read.

And oh the irony. For a class to convert to Catholicism to show that to me so clearly, while the almighty Christadelphians still believe that everything bad in the world is because of the Catholic Church and believe they have the corner on the market of Bible interpretation.

When no interpretation is required. The words are there - they always have been.

Just like God and Jesus and the Holy Spirit. We are never alone.

Mine

There is something soothing in the knowledge that we can turn to God whenever we want. Whether taking a long walk, sitting in the quiet of our home, or even in the bathroom at work - don't ask me how I know :-). 

God is always there. Wanting to hear from us. No matter what our physical circumstances are, God is waiting for us to reach out to him.

Whether it's in fear, sadness, or joy - we are never alone when we put our trust in God.

Bondage

When we see that word - bondage - it's likely we automatically think of slavery. A stain on any society that kept slaves. And while the word does usually mean being kept in chattel slavery, there is another meaning:

servitude or subjugation to a controlling person or force

It is this lesser-known meaning I've been praying on this past week. Particularly the "force" emphasized.

What could this force be? In the context of my own prayers it represents a spiritual attack on my well-being. I hesitate to say this as I'm not one to go this dramatic within my faith but...

satan

There. I said it.

The evil one. Lucifer. Beelzebub. The Dark Lord. Mephistopheles. The Beast.

So many names for one creature. 

I have come to see, incredibly recently, that I have been under spiritual attack by The Dark Lord. Intent on keeping me servile, it has tied me to the hatred that I bonded to within my own family.

Most everything they did was only for their own benefit. Self-aggrandizement. Charity did not begin at home unless someone could take credit for it. How very - un-Christian. And of course I've already shared what that meant in my family.

Their Christian virtues were irrevocably tied up in hatred. They weren't pro-Christadelphian, they were anti-Catholic (anti any Christian practice really). My mother was anti-<insert ethnicity here>. My father was the same. Equal opportunity bigots.

They hated pretty much anyone who didn't march to their particular drum. And that included people within the family as much as without. Since they weren't very loving, as a child we had no choice but to bond to what they offered.

And so here I am - bonded to their hatred. 

And given a gift without price. An epiphany delivered at Mass last weekend by none other than Holy Mary, Mother of God.

{Now to clarify things for the non-Catholics in the crowd - we do not worship Holy Mary. She is a Saint, not a God-replacement. She is venerated as all Saints are; we pray to her for her intercession on our behalf to Jesus, thru whom we pray to God. That's all. She is very important to the Catholic faith - as she should be to all Christian faiths.}

Back to Holy Mary's gift. In a quiet moment of communal & introspective prayer I found myself praying for my father. For the first time in nearly a decade I spoke his name in prayer in a positive way - and asked for the strength to learn how to forgive him.

Trust me - his sins against his daughter are great indeed. The worst sin a parent can commit on their child. In fact those sins really are among the unforgivable.

And yet, here I am. For the first time in my life recognizing that the kind of forgiveness I need to give him will release me.

Just me. Only me.

In a moment of pure clarity, Holy Mary showed me the chains that tie me to him. The connection that keeps me subjugated to him. To his hate. Literal chains leading to this man who wounded me so deeply I never thought I'd recover from the memories of it.

It was - literally a godsend of coherence in a mind that was anything but.

With this magnificent and quite holy offering, I have finally stepped on a path I haven't really seen for my entire life. The incredible understanding of this kind of forgiveness.

How liberating it will be. Oh yes, Holy Mary showed me that too.

After talking about it endlessly - annoyingly even - my journey in faith has taken on another facet. One that I know will bring me closer to that goal of all goals...

...peace.

Amen.

Blessings

As 2024 comes to a close, I share this prayer with you. From my own beloved parish to your home.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Holy Father, on this final morning of 2024, we bow before you with hearts overflowing with gratitude. From the first day of January to this last day of December, your hand has sustained us, your grace has covered us, and your mercy has kept us. Thank You for the gift of life, the breath in our lungs, and the strength to stand in this moment.

Lord, we do not take this journey for granted. Through the storms and the sunshine, you have been our refuge. In times of joy and in moments of trial, you never left our side. Thank you for victories seen and unseen, for the battles you fought on our behalf, and for the peace you placed in our hearts.

As we close the chapter of 2024, we release every burden, every regret, and every fear. We step into the threshold of 2025 with hope and expectation. Father, let the new year come with blessings that overflow, favour that cannot be denied, and an anointing for greatness. May your hand be heavily upon us, guiding, protecting, and lifting us to higher ground.

We declare that 2025 will be a year of divine alignment, a year where we walk in purpose, where doors open at the sound of your voice, and where opportunities chase after us. Crown the new year with goodness, and let abundance follow us in every season.

Holy Spirit, go before us. Let your presence saturate 2025. Anoint our heads with oil, and may our cups run over with joy, peace, and prosperity. We shall not lack, and no harm shall befall us. May your favour rest upon our families, our homes, and everything our hands touch. Amen.

THE LORD BE WITH YOU;

AND WITH YOUR SPIRIT.

May the Almighty God bless you, the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.

Amen

*: image is of the plaza in front of the magnificent Hallgrímskirkja Cathedral in Reykjavik, Iceland.

Joy

Joy - now that word has gotten a bit of a bum rap lately. So let's take it back to basics with a simple definition:

a feeling of great pleasure and happiness

See also - delight, jubilation, triumph, exultation, exuberance, glee...and so on. You get the picture.

Just one more - rejoice.

Now that one - hits today. As this is the third Sunday in Advent, it is also Gaudete Sunday...based on New Testament Scripture. For example:

Rejoice in the Lord always; again I say, rejoice. Let your forbearance be known to all, for the Lord is near at hand; have no anxiety about anything, but in all things, by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be known to God. - Philippians 4:4-6

Rejoice in the Lord...always.

As mere humans just how do we do that? This can be a rough time of year for people - I know it is for me.

The Holiday Blues are a real thing and they have settled on me like a lead weight.

We all have much to be grateful for; so many blessings if we only stop and let those settle on us.

Air in our lungs. Blue skies. Raindrops. Breezes. Sunrise. Sunset. Beautiful birds. A home. 

Whatever our circumstances those are but a tiny fraction of the blessings we experience daily. Yet...when the sorrows of life surface and descend, how do we find God in those saddest of moments?

(In a fit of cleaning & decluttering recently I unearthed an old Advent devotional from 2014 and it has captured me fully.) According to the Christian author and Vatican Prelate, Robert F. Morneau, in this newly discovered book - "Waiting in Joyful Hope": 

"Despite the slings and arrows of life, God's abiding presence makes visible a joy-filled disposition."

And what can we do to recognize this abiding presence?

Simple.

Prayer.

And I mean that literally - simple prayer. Formal prayers are very nice. They are liturgically "correct", however much that might mean to each of us. 

As Fr. Morneau suggests:

"Prayer is communion and communication with God. In this dialogue we experience a "mutual presence" and share our common joys and sorrows."

He goes on to say that if we... 

"...never cease praying, we enter a frame of mind by which we refer all our thoughts and actions to the indwelling presence of God. ... All is gift; all is grace."

Ceaseless prayer isn't about the form of the prayer. In truth, I believe there are no rules about our prayers, not really. God wants us near to him and we can only achieve that thru prayer.

As I am haunted by all the "what could have beens" and "what should have beens" at this time of year, I need to remember that my joy is found within prayer to God.

He is always there, even if my prayers rant & rave about all the "coulda, woulda, shoulda" of life. And this requires a suspension of ego, the acknowledgment that God is in charge.

Not me. Never have been; never will be.

And if you really think about it, there is a freedom in taking that to your heart. To admit that we humans mess things up, that we suffer the "slings & arrows of life" as part of that human experience.

And God is there - always - waiting to take on those sorrows, those burdens, so we can experience his indwelling...

...and feel the true Joy of the season.

Amen.

Footnote: I love that a Vatican Prelate uses a partial quote from Shakespeare - and Hamlet, no less - to bring home our human-ness:

To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause.

As is always the case with Shakespeare, there is so much to unpack there. To place it squarely in the midst of a charge to pray ceaselessly, is simple brilliant.

God's Hands

 This is truth. Abundant truth.

I have powerful testimony that proves this simple statement.

We are going back to 2010. I was at possibly the lowest point of my life. Nothing was going right. So much turmoil. So much sadness.

I had been away from church for about 15 years. No more Christadelphian meetings, no praying, nothing. I didn't stop believing in God and yet...I started questioning everything about him. The personal crisis that started in 2009 had crescendoed to a feverish state of mind.

After a year of intense sorrow, the hubby & I started talking about, of all things, going back to church.

No one was more shocked than me.

Now - we love the city of Boston. It is one of our favorite places anywhere and we try to get there several times each year. In early 2010 we planned a mini-break holiday in that great place. Bougie hotel, great meals, lots of walking and people watching.

And a visit to St. Leonard's Church in the North End of the city. We went there every time we went to Boston to light a candle for Heather Smith. She was the daughter of old friends and she perished on Flight 11 on 9/11/01. Despite not being particularly religious during those years we honored Heather and her parents.

So we went to St. Leonard's during our weekend away. I was more curious about this Catholic church than any time in the past given that we were thinking about going back to church. And the Christadelphian faith was definitely not on the list.

Growing up in a non-aesthetic Christian faith I had no familiarity with Saints. I knew nothing about them and certainly never saw any physical representations of them.

St. Leonard's in Boston is a classic 19th century Italianate church. Built entirely by the Italian immigrants living in the North End, it is lavish with coffered ceilings, gold leaf everywhere, and elaborate statuary all around the church. So many saint statues that they stood, literally, shoulder-to-shoulder.

I had never explored them before but this time, March 2010, I felt compelled to walk up to each one. I felt one of those saints calling to me. One of them had something important to tell me, I could feel it in my bones.

So I began walking around the church, stopping in front of each statue and asking - are you the one? I'd wait a minute or so, then move on when I felt nothing.

Until I came to a distinctly unique statue. Tall, wearing armor and holding a pennant***. Like all the others, I paused and asked - are you the one?

The next few moments are burned into my memory. I can see this like it is happening right in front of me at this moment.

I was pushed - literally - to kneel in front of this statue. There is no doubt in my mind that the hand of God gently forced me to the cushioned kneeler. If there wasn't a kneeler, I'm sure I'd have gone prostrate on the floor.

I prayed as I never have in my entire life. And cried - I didn't know a human being could cry that much in one place at one time.

I have no recollection how much time passed. Hubby just let me do what I needed to do. He stayed near me but didn't speak to me. He respected what was happening to me. He was then, and remains today, my steady loving rock.

Eventually I stood back up, dried my messy face, and sat in the church for a good long time. Just sat there - quietly praying some more.

On the ride home from Boston that evening we talked about what happened. What it felt like physically. And emotionally.

I was exhausted in every way possible. Overwhelmed by the experience and reeling from the very clear message. From God himself.

Go back to church my child. You need me. I need you.

Startling to say the least. The following weekend was Easter. And as we were in our driveway on Easter Sunday, prepared to drive an hour to hubby's parents, we clearly heard church bells. We'd never heard them before in the 20+ years we'd live in our home.

Saints. Kneeling. God's voice. Church bells.

You just don't ignore all that. The weekend after Easter we started going back to church. Our plan was to try the "Big 3" in our country town - Lutheran, Catholic, Episcopal. We started with the Catholic Church for 2 reasons: 1) hubby was born Catholic and 2) God told me to go back to church while I was in a Catholic church.

And so our faith journey began. Because God laid his hands on me.

And it's true - I haven't ever been the same since.

Amen.

*** There is an amusing side-story to this saint statue. In my heightened emotional state I saw this statue with the armor and spear as - female. Research immediately after that visit told me it was - Joan of Arc. Now I knew her story but not the details. So I read everything I could find about her. And ultimately selected her as my Patron Saint when I joined the Catholic Church. Fast forward another couple of years and in speaking with one of hubby's Aunts - discovered that the saint statue I knelt before was distinctly male - The Archangel Michael.

I based my conversion to Catholicism, in part, on the misidentification of a saint statue. To this day it makes me smile at the private joke I feel God had for me. I'm not sure I would have responded so viscerally if I'd recognized the statue as St. Michael. Yet upon a revisit some years later it was so obvious the statue is male...abs under the armor, well-defined legs...and that pennant? It was a spear, going thru the heart of a demon at St. Michael's feet.

Just writing all that - makes me laugh.

Abundance

"Happiness can be found in the darkest of places. All you need to do is turn on the light." 

-Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry

Sunrise from the summit of Mt. Washington, NH

Who knew that peace could be found in words from the legendary Harry Potter ( and from my personal favorite in the series, Prisoner of Azbakan).

Last night, just before Mass began, God turned a light on me and within me in a moment of pure poetry.

With the late afternoon sun beginning to set behind me, God shone a light thru the stained glass windows in the front of the church.

A direction from which no light should shine at that time of night. And yet there it was - a beautiful stream of angelic white light.

And a word whispered into my ear - so faint I had to ask for a repeat - "abundance".

Abundance.

In the midst of years of struggles, emotional pain, betrayals, and general life messiness - this single word has transformed me.

It will need time to settle on me fully -  yet in those 3 simple syllables I find myself turning towards that light. Instead of shunning it - I embrace it.

Hubby and I are starting to plan our graceful exit from the challenges of corporate america. Three short years and we will, with God's will, move onto the next phase of our lives.

It is not missed by me that this message from God serves as a reminder of all that has passed - and all that is yet to be.

While I have had a life marked by abuse until my 20s, then health struggles through my 30s & 40s, then the emotional upheaval in my 50s that is tied directly to the abuses of my past.

And here I am, 61 years old, and finally - FINALLY - I have reached that moment when "abundance" defines the happiness and blessings in my life.

Just a few short years ago it could have defined the abundant horrors & nightmares.

Now ... I feel like it's the right time for me to embrace God's message and really focus on the manifest blessings - and only those.

And because it's Sunday you get a twofer - my Sunday Symphony below was the Presentation of the Gifts song at Mass last night.

I fall on my knees to the father of Jesus,
The Lord who has shown us the glory of God.

May he in his love give us strength for our living
The strength of his spirit the glory of God.

May Christ find a dwelling place of faith in our hearts.
May our lives be rooted in love, rooted in love.

Rooted in love - indeed.

Rooted in abundance & blessings.

Sunday Prayer

My God I come to take your touch before I begin my day. Let my beautiful eyes rest upon your beautiful eyes for a while. Let me take into my day the assurance of your friendship. Fill my mind to last through the desert of noise.

Let your blessed sunshine flood the peaks and valleys of my soul, so that I may be loving and strong for anyone who may need me this day.

In the name of our Lord & Savior, Jesus Christ, amen.

On Being Christadelphian

As I mentioned a couple of weeks ago, I am starting to explore writing about my faith journey. As with any experience it requires context.

There are five overarching areas that I hope to cover:

1. Family Life
2. A Profound Death
3. We All Fall Down
4. I Rise
5. I Fall and Rise Again

As I write that I realize I've just come up with the structure of my journey/book. It will be something that, with God by my side, I can "write into". The more I pray on this the more I'm coming to believe this is the right time for me - to recall some extremely painful experiences, emotional & physical, with the nearness of God. He is certainly closer to me now that he was even 10 years ago. Noting that my faith journey spans nearly 50 years.

I know writing this won't be linear. Which will be helpful because, as I approach anything in section 5, I will need God to tell me when to write what because that is the most painful part of my journey and where I really start to welcome God into my heart.

And so I give you another part of what it meant to be Christadelphian in my formative years.

[Recap from Pt 1] - It (Christadelphian) is a strict faith with unyielding rules and beliefs. Not unlike many others. However, Christadelphians believe in a vengeful God even while believing in a benevolent God who gave us our ultimate savior, Jesus Christ. There is also much hate and bigotry taught in Sunday School. That will become important later. Overall, as I look back on it with decades of distance, I can see how my earliest traumas were a result of this hateful, vengeful faith. My inevitable low self-esteem and sense of unworthiness can be traced, in part, to my activities with and belief in being Christadelphian.

On Being Christadelphian, Pt 2 - A Family of Faith

And so, we were a Christadelphian family. We went to church school & services every Sunday. Attended special talks on Sunday nights. Participated in church events and socials. We were not allowed to join in things like voting in any political election or serving in that capacity. We were forbidden from being police officers and military service was a big no-no. Conscientious Objection was the only appropriate response to a wartime draft. Being unequally yoked, meaning married but practicing 2 different faiths, was strictly forbidden with harsh punishments. 

My father was deeply faithful, once declaring that serving his church was the #1 thing in his life, more important to him than his family. He served in several capacities in our church, including as a leader of church services, public speaker, religious guide and counselor, as well as business and  financial advisor. My mother was more agnostic and went along with my father as all good 1950s housewives did. She did what all Christadelphian women were allowed to do - played the organ, served with all the women in their “womanly duties” as defined by the 1950s and 1960s (meaning cleaning the church building, preparing meals and serving them to hungry Christadelphians, and then cleaning up after them), and lent her considerable vocal prowess (she was a trained Mezzo Soprano opera singer) to Sunday services. As a child and even as an adult Christadelphian I followed my mother’s lead, cooking, cleaning, and ministering as a good little woman. Eventually my brother would lead church services and be a speaker. And so too would my husband. At least for a little while.

Being part of a fringe Christian faith was intimidating as a young child. When you are in school, learning who everyone is, the inevitable question about faith comes up. Until I was 10 years old, I applied my young mind to explaining my faith to any friend who asked what brand of Christianity I observed. I spoke with all the passion and eloquence I could muster to share all the ways in which my faith was better than anyone else’s. You see, Christadelphians also teach that they are the only ones who can inherit the Kingdom of God. And if Christadelphians don’t convert others to our way of thinking, then we ourselves are sinners who will be dealt with on judgement day.

Heavy stuff, especially for a little kid trying so much to fit in. My faith made that extremely difficult to be sure. By the age of 10 I had found a new way of answering the question about my faith – we were Protestants. Period. No more uncomfortable conversations, no more strange looks from my friends and classmates. My parents were extremely displeased to learn this is how I explained my faith. They tried to give me words that a 10-year-old would be able to relate to; I listened and did as I pleased anyway. As I look back, I see this as my first rebellion against the constrictions of a fundamentalist faith.

But I would continue to be an obedient Christadelphian daughter, attending services and events happily (at least as much as I could muster so my parents wouldn't make my life more of a living hell than it already was). I’d like to say I made friends in church, and I suppose I did, to a point. We had nothing in common beyond our church identities. Plus being in a fringe religion it’s not like there are tons of others like you in your town or school. The friends I had at church were only seen at church and church events. My parents took the snobbery of being Christadelphian to an enormous degree, feeling that we were better than all the others in our own ecclesia. They saw us in an elevated status, despite that being 100% against the rules of being Christadelphian. We didn’t associate with all those people outside of church. A position which severely hindered my ability to make friends with a common ground.

Up Next: On Being Christadelphian, Pt 3 - Rebellion

I pray to God to keep me safe during this journey, to be with me with every word I type, to guide my voice to conform to his will for me. In Jesus' name, Amen.

Kneel

In a world that feels endlessly demanding...whether it's your job, family, or whatever burdens you place on yourself...

How often do you give it all up and just...pray.

Indeed. We have the simplest way to hand over the stress & demands; the easiest possible action to let God take over for us.

Kneel.

Or if you are like me - bow. :-) 

My world has gotten a bit heavy of late. I can feel myself starting to sag under the weight of responsibilities, discoveries, and the burdens I can never seem to set down for too long.

I need to remember God is only a few words away.

Or one single bodily action will bring him up front & center for us.

Kneel.

The prayer will come.

Renewal

As a Lector at my church it is my greatest privilege to read the Word of God to my fellow parishioners. I get to share with them the messages that God sent to us thru men inspired of him. My turn is up tonite and I couldn't be more excited to read words written by St. Paul.

The Pauline writings are a full prescription for our lives following Jesus. For the earliest Christians, St. Paul's writings gave them a guidebook of behavior and while he wrote many letters to those fledgling churches, his message was "simple".

Live as Christ told us to, as close to him as possible. Achieving perfection...as if!

This can only be achieved thru prayer and a throwing away of what we have learned in our own societies.

Timeless writings by the great St. Paul. Like this, which I will be proclaiming at around 5:15pm EST tonite:

Brothers and sisters:
I declare and testify in the Lord
that you must no longer live as the Gentiles do,
in the futility of their minds;
that is not how you learned Christ,
assuming that you have heard of him and were taught in him,
as truth is in Jesus,
that you should put away the old self of your former way of life,
corrupted through deceitful desires,
and be renewed in the spirit of your minds,
and put on the new self,
created in God's way in righteousness and holiness of truth.

-letter of st. paul to the ephesians 4:17-24

Indeed. "...renewed in the spirit of your minds..." What an achievement it would be if this was easy, if we could be in that spirit 24/7.

Which is what God wants for us. To do this brings us closer to God.

And what a challenge it is, in these times and likely in the times when St. Paul wrote his letter. 

Throw off our old selves, renew our spirits in God thru Jesus Christ. 

It is, in my mind, what being Christian is all about. The daily work to keep ourselves of the world and not in the world. A challenge that surfaces with every sunrise.

Personal Revival

Is God waiting for me?

Seems like a potentially arrogant question. After all, why would the most omnipotent being in all of any history - wait for me to do anything? Isn't it me who should be waiting on God - in prayer, petition, thanksgiving, and hope?

That is all true. And yet I feel that sometimes God does wait for me, for us.

• To forgive even when it feels impossible.
• Embrace a season of quiet with God.
• Let go of what I think my journey thru this life should look like.
• Allow God into my broken places.

A season of quiet with God - what does that look like? How long is that? If we listen for God enough, look for him in all that we see and do, inevitably he will tell us what that season is. 

Thru prayer we will see & hear God. Keeping our eyes wide open all the time - to see & hear him in everything, the sweetest birdsong, the prettiest flower, the hideous weed, the icky insect - is to find God present in our lives every second of the day.

Not every minute. Every single second. Even the words I am writing come straight from God. Because those 4 points above constitute a prayer I have been saying as often as possible, as the gift they are - given to me from a surprising source.

Indeed, that same source gifted me with another prayer, just for me. 

A Personal Revival from God. To acknowledge God's presence, make a plan for healing with only his guidance, and persevere in this plan in the quiet spaces with God.

When you open your mind to all of God's possibilities - even the ones that seem so improbable as to be nearly unbelievable - he delivers gift upon gift.

So go to that quiet place with God - and open your mind & heart to listen to his messages. For he indeed...waiting for us.

The End Is Just The Beginning

It's been a challenging couple of weeks. Lots of doubting on my part - that God even sees what is happening to the world he created. That he sees what is happening to people I love. That he sees - me.

And of course that is my human-ness being allowed free reign over my thoughts. Because God is always there - and every challenge, every heartache, every frustration - is our opportunity to draw him into our innermost soul & heart. To that magical in-dwelling that he craves for us & with us.

Funny thing - He is already there. And in our human-ness - our ego - we believe that it is WE who need to allow him in.

Humans really are curious creatures.

It is not up to us to decide much about our lives. Sure, our daily decisions on what to wear, what food to eat, where to be and when - the normal activities that require our participation.

But in the grand scheme of our brief existence, no matter what we want to believe or force to happen, it is God - and only God - who runs the show.

Even more importantly - it is our responsibility to turn to him in those moments that try us. Those moments that give us the greatest struggles. And those moments happen because we don't acknowledge that God is already there.

Or as is said at every Catholic Mass:

"Through him, with him, in him, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, all glory and honor is yours, almighty Father, for ever and ever." The Book of Romans, Chapter 11:36

And to the image I posted here - this is all intended for one specific person in my life who needs to hear this:

We are not in control. Only God is. And the bad things that happen to us can be a gateway to all the good & wonderful things that God has planned for us. We only need to get out of our own way, let go of what we think things should be like, and be more open to the signs & wonders that God sends to us every moment. Because God wants the very best for us - signs & wonders are not about the end. They are about our beginning...no matter at what point we start. -with love, kris

While it might feel like the end - perhaps it is God's way of saying there is newness of life waiting for you. Just be patient because it's all in God's Time.

"We were buried therefore with him by baptism into death, in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life." The Book of Romans, Chapter 6:4

Amen. 

Calling

I read something on an Instagram page I follow that has wormed its way into my psyche and I can't shake it:

Remember: God is using all your experiences, both good and bad, to develop your character to match your calling. -lysa terkeurst

The author of the quote is a well-known Christian non-fiction writer and also president of the Proverbs 31 Ministries. I confess that until now I had never heard of Ms. TerKeurst and her work. I am going to change that immediately.

And those last two words are stuck in my mind like a briar:

"...your calling."

What is that? How does that apply to me? What does this mean if I don't have the answers?

The standard, non-religious, meaning for a Calling is:

A calling is a strong inclination to do something that you feel uniquely qualified for and enjoy passionately. It can be your job, a hobby, raising a family, charity work, or a way of relating to and helping others. Callings can look different for everyone.

I've never felt this way about anything. There are things I enjoy - hobbies mostly - but have never seen them as a calling.

Am I the outlier on this? Do others have a calling of some sorts...and if they do when do they discover it? Commit to it? 

I certainly know plenty of people who have a calling - teachers, priests, deacons, nuns, law enforcement, the rescue work done by firefighters and EMTs, healers like doctors & nurses. 

I know I've never had dreams to do anything in particular. I've kind of stumbled along in my life, made things up as I go along. I also flit from one interest to another and back again. I don't stay with one thing for too long. Even my photography - arguably the one secular passion I have - comes and goes with the winds.

I titled this image: Facing the World

My faith is one area that I remain committed & devoted to. I am a passionate Lector at our Parish. And it is one of the greatest honors as a lay person to serve Communion from time to time.

But a calling? I've never prayed about it. Never even considered it. I've spent most of my life - from early childhood until the last 5 years or so (that's roughly 50 years) just - surviving. Being in fight-or-flight for that long is hard to step away from. I'm doing the work on that and I can feel it starting to subside just a little. 

Perhaps with more prayer & meditation, I can find if I do have a calling.

Perhaps - it's just for me to have survived a brutal childhood and early adulthood, to survive the aftermath, to survive the many small breakdowns that have occurred in the past 5 years or so.

Maybe all that God's wants for me to do is - survive. And thrive.

Perhaps that is calling enough.