Fickle Faith

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The Plank In My Eye

2009-08-06T10:34:00.001-07:00

Last night Steve and I had a deep conversation about our relationship. I was expressing a need that I hoped he could meet. To ensure that he understood the significance of this particular need, I searched for a good example that he would be able to relate to. Aha! I had the perfect example! It went something like this:

"So, you know how you feel about my faith life? I know you still love me no matter what, and that you don't judge me or pressure me. But part of you feels disappointed. Maybe even upset. And even though you try to be patient and understanding, it still affects our relationship in some way, shape, or form. Because our friendship and relationship was built on our faith, and now that part of our relationship has literally disappeared. Your faith is very important to you. You want someone by your side, someone to walk this journey with you. But you look around and I'm nowhere to be found."

That was the gist of it, anyway. And I was like, Hell yeah! I found the perfect example! Now he's totally going to see my point!

And then I was like, Wait. Wait a minute...

...Crap.

It was then that I realized that he and I were going through the same exact thing, but for different reasons. And when I thought about how frustrated and disappointed I've been feeling, I realized that he must have been feeling pretty much the same way.

So last night we made a pact. He would make more effort to meet my needs, and I would make more effort to make my faith a little less fickle. So I'm going to try. For me. And for us.

(In case you didn't know, I got the title for this post from scripture - Matthew 7:3. Yeah, I know some scripture. Don't look so surprised.)

Faith Versus Belief

2009-07-07T21:38:00.000-07:00

So, I really hate when people blog about their dreams. Yet, I'm about to do just that. Please just bear with me, as I promise to keep it short and to the point. And there is a point. Or at least something to make you go "hmmmmm."

Here we go:

I was walking along with a VIP from the Diocese. I was asking him hypothetical questions regarding what the Church does and does not condone. At one point I asked, "What would happen if it was found that a youth minister was gay?" And he replied matter of fact, "He would be fired." (*Disclaimer: remember that this is JUST A DREAM and is NOT factual Diocesan policy or practice.)

His response shocked and upset me. Then suddenly we were walking past some sort of museum or something that was showing an exhibition paying tribute to the gay plight against discrimination and homophobia throughout history. Next thing you know, a gay friend of mine appeared by my side and invited me to the exhibit. I looked over to the VIP dude.

"If you go in there, you're jeopardizing your ministry," he informed me.

I looked down in disappointment, then went into the museum with my friend.

Once inside, I started sobbing uncontrollably.

Then I woke up.

It was one of those crystal clear dreams that seemed so real. I was actually on the verge of tears when I woke up. And all day long I wondered why I was sobbing so hard in the dream. Out of empathy for the challenges gay people have faced and continue to face every day? Or because, in my dream, I felt like I had to choose between my faith and my beliefs? Or from guilt that my faith and my beliefs aren't always compatible?

Perhaps all of the above?

The point of this post really isn't to debate the Church's stance on homosexuality. It was just a dream. Relax, apologists. I don't think any one would particularly care if I went to an exhibit like the one in my dream. (At least that's what I would hope.) The point here is that one of the struggles I face on this journey is when my beliefs - whatever they may be - conflict with my faith. Some would argue that faith and beliefs should be one in the same. I'm not sure I agree.

Thoughts?

Story of My Life

2009-06-24T01:20:00.000-07:00

A faith that's right there...almost within my grasp.

Back in the Day

2009-06-18T16:30:00.000-07:00

I came across this old picture from when Steve and I used to invite our friends over for weekly faith sharing many years ago. On this particular night we read the passage about Mary and Martha - Mike is posing as Jesus, Michelle is posing as Mary, and that's crazy Izza posing as Martha in the background. Haha! I miss those days. Back then, I was more like Mary, taking time to just sit and be with Jesus.

Makes me think...maybe what I've been missing is a good, strong faith community.

B Average in Spirituality

2009-06-16T23:10:00.000-07:00

Steve and I took a personality test of sorts, except that instead of the results revealing that you're an Introverted iNtuitive Feeling Judger (which I am, by the way), it tells you what spiritual gifts God has blessed you with. I love taking these types of quizzes and was curious what type of heathen this particular quiz would expose me to be.

So you're supposed to end up with two primary gifts and two secondary gifts, but I had a four-way tie for 1st place (20 out of 20 points for each). According to the quiz, God has blessed me with the gifts of:

- Discernment: the gift to know and to test whether something is spiritually good or evil.

- Leadership: the gift to set goals and then lead others to work together to carry out these goals for the glory of God.

- Mercy: the gift of showing kindness and compassion in the name of Jesus to those who suffer.

- Wisdom: the gift to offer good advice, solid counsel, and spiritual insight as it relates to God's purpose.

Hmmmm...so I'm a bossy know-it-all with a bleeding heart and superb BS detection. Yup, sounds about right.

Equally unsurprising, I got a 1 out of 20 for the gift of Hospitality and a 0 out of 20 for Prayer. My friends will readily vouch for my hospitality score, and given the fact that I try to call in sick to mass on a semi-regular basis, I'd say it's no secret that I struggle with prayer. But I plan to work on both of these. Raise them to 10's out of 20 at least.

(The quiz we took is called Spiritual Gifts Inventory by Rev. Rusty Freeman)

Kicking and Screaming

2009-05-18T21:39:00.000-07:00

I did not want to go to mass yesterday. I mean, I seriously DID NOT want to go. I was hot, grumpy, tired, lazy, and I procrastinated until literally the very last minute before finally getting ready to go. And by "get ready" I mean a quick wash of my face, pulling my hair into a messy ponytail, throwing on whatever was clean, and running out the door with 15 minutes to get to our church which is 20 minutes away.

I begrudgingly drove to church, wishing I could have finished watching Win a Date with Tad Hamilton, which I didn't really care about at all but at least it would have meant staying home. I snuck into church, slipped into a seat next to Steve (who looked disapproving, yet not surprised), and sulked. Why oh why did I have to go and marry the youth minister of all people?!

After I resigned myself to the fact that I was there and that it didn't kill me, I sucked it up and got over myself. I ended up actually enjoying the homily and even sang, clapped, and danced a little as they played one of my favorite songs at the end of mass. Steve turned to me and said, "See? Aren't you glad you came to mass?"

Whatever, dude. I mean, yeah, I got something out of it. And of course I don't like not wanting to go to church. But the truth is, it's just where I'm at right now. And until I figure out how to change it, then I'm going to have days where I literally have to drag myself to mass. In fact, that's probably exactly why God gave me a youth minister husband...because He knew I needed someone to ~~annoy me~~ keep me in check.

Precious Moments

2009-04-13T23:41:00.000-07:00

I ain't gonna lie. More often than not I walk through life spiritually numb. I don't want it to be this way, but it's been my reality lately. Well, more than just lately. But every so often I experience an awakening. Sometimes just a flicker, sometimes more. It could be something I read that resonates with me. Or an interaction with someone that causes the Spirit to stir within me. Or it could be a song, with lyrics that perfectly describe everything I didn't know I was feeling.

A few weeks ago I dusted off my old Christian MP3's and loaded them onto the iPod. As I was driving home from work one day, Matt Maher's "Lay It Down" came on. And, no joke, I started bawling. Suddenly, unexpectedly, uncontrollably. It was the lyrics. Those lyrics. So simple, yet beautiful and perfect.

Everything I am
Everything I long to be
I lay it down at Your feet

Everything I am
Everything I long to be
I lay it down at Your feet

I lay it down
I lay it down
I lay it down
At Your feet

Everything I am. Everything I long to be. I lay it down. Those words kill me. Have you ever came across a song with lyrics that just ripped your heart open? That's what happened to me one unsuspecting day in the middle of rush hour traffic. Back in the day we used to call them "Holy Spirit moments." And although I'm not that girl anymore, and even as I cringe with embarrassment at the cheesiness of that phrase, I confess that I would give anything to have more of those moments.

Lost and Found

2009-03-20T13:01:00.000-07:00

One of the biggest struggles I have had with my faith is simply: why do I believe? I've always had a very real fear that someone would ask me why I believe in God and I wouldn't have the faintest idea of how to answer. I'm no theologian. I know nothing about apologetics. I give talks about faith all the time but know very little about the Church's history and have yet to read probably more than half of the bible. So why DO I believe?

In Steve's never-ending quest to help me find my way, he bought me a book called Messy Spirituality by Michael Yaconelli, wherein I found my answer.

Yaconelli recounts the biblical story of Jesus healing the blind man, and how the religious leaders of that day tried to renounce this miracle by calling Jesus a sinner. The blind man responded, "Whether he is a sinner or not, I don't know. One thing I do know. I was blind but now I see!" Yaconelli relates this to a story of a modern day man who is criticized for knowing very little about his faith.

"You are right. I am ashamed at how little I know about [Jesus]. But this much I know: Three years ago I was a drunkard. I was in debt. My family was falling to pieces; they dreaded the sight of me. But now I have given up drink. We are out of debt. Ours is a happy home. My children eagerly await my return home each evening. All this Christ has done for me. This much I know of Christ!"

I admit, I don't know much. But this much I do know:

I was alone. I lost my marriage. I lost my job and my apartment. I lost my son. My friends and family couldn't help me. I lost me. I was homeless, depressed. I lost hope. I was literally at rock bottom. Until one evening I decided to go to church for no other reason than the fact that I had no where else to turn. And God's love saved me. I got back on my feet. I got a job and a room. I got my son back. I found the love of my life. I found myself again, only a totally different self than I even knew existed.

I don't know how to prove Jesus to anyone. I don't have adequate words to explain why I have faith. All I know is that God has done amazing things in my life. And even though I'm sinful and fickle and still get lost along the way, my eyes can still see all the blessings God has given me.

When confronted with questions about Jesus, the blind man is not afraid to say, "I don't know." "I don't know" is often the only reply we can give to explain the mystery of Christ...Our personal relationship with Christ is often the only apologetic we can offer. Our lack of knowing is the beginning of humility and the very essence of spiritual life.

Who Dat?

2009-03-17T23:14:00.000-07:00

While Steve was in a meeting, X walked Lily around the church grounds. He took her for a little visit with Jesus. X said Lily smiled at one point. I wonder what Jesus said to her.

That Loving Feeling

2009-03-11T22:24:00.000-07:00

The other day I was consulting with Sr. D about a retreat I'm planning for a bunch of kindergartners. She commented about how fun the retreat will be because children still have that unaffected spirituality that so many of us lose as we grow up. How they "don't give a hoot about religion" because that's not what touches their hearts.

I think I must have the spiritual maturity of a 6-year-old.

I know that love - real love - is not simply a feeling. If real love were just about feelings, then it would be as inconsistent and fleeting as our emotions. Love is more than feelings. I think the same goes with one's faith, so I don't want to say that my spirituality is based on feelings. But it kind of is.

I understand how important theology is. How important it is to learn the history and understand the teachings of my faith. How central the Mass is to our worship. I go to Mass every week. I serve in ministry. I read about my faith all the time. I give talks, I do retreats, I research, and I teach. My brain is full of "religion," but my heart still yearns for a spirituality that lights a fire under my ass.

I really don't need a theology lecture. I don't want to sit in a Mass where everyone is lukewarm in their prayer and singing. I'm tired of learning about my faith. I want to FEEL my faith. Yes, I realize that faith shouldn't be based on feelings. Just like love shouldn't be based on feelings. But even when you're committed to loving someone through the good times and bad, you still want to keep the passion alive. You still want to feel some of the excitement that made you fall in love in the first place.

I guess that's what I'm looking for. I'm committed regardless. I just want to be more than lukewarm.

Ashy

2009-02-25T22:13:00.000-08:00

I forgot that I had ashes on my forehead. No wonder everyone kept looking at me when we went out to brunch.

This Lent I am giving up sweets and am committing myself to writing on this blog as a form of prayer. Too much sweets and too little prayer are two of my biggest weaknesses. This should be interesting. I'll keep you posted.

About

2009-02-25T19:53:00.000-08:00

The Girl

I am a cradle Catholic. Went through the whole shebang: baptism, first communion, and confirmation. By the time I was confirmed in high school, I was so over it all, and as soon as my parents gave me a choice I stopped going to church all together.

From my high school years into my mid-twenties I only went back to church for the occasional Easter or Christmas mass. I wasn't what you'd call a "practicing" Catholic. I believed in God. I knew he was out there somewhere. Like a friend I lost touch with, but thought about from time to time.

When I met with some extremely hard times in my early twenties and fell into a depression, I called on God after almost a decade of avoiding him. I was so lost and I knew that God was probably my last hope of me finding my way again.

I was right. Throughout my mid-to-late twenties I swear God was like my BFF. No longer some vague presence in my life, but my homie. I was a fanatic - praying all the time, volunteering at church, going to Christian music concerts. It was an unforgettably amazing time in my life.

But after about five years of constant church and ministry and bible studies and retreats, I was burnt out. I needed a break. Also, I was changing. My life was changing. I was about to get married and we planned to have a baby right away. So I took a step back from everything and just settled on going to mass every week.

I know now that I probably took too big of a step back. I thought that I could keep my spirituality nourished while taking a break from the constant church activities and ministry, but it was hard to maintain an enthusiasm for my faith when I felt so disconnected from my faith community. Eventually little by little, crumb by crumb, I lost touch with God again.

The Blog

My hubby and I met during that time I was active in my faith, and since then have built a friendship, a relationship, a marriage, and a family on the foundation of our faith. Therefore, it's hard for him to see that I'm lost again. From time to time he gently tries to get me back on track. He never pushes, but he never gives up. So for him, for my family, and for myself, this blog is me trying to find my way. Not back to where I was before, but to a new place.

I named this blog Fickle Faith because my story is about an imperfect faith. I'm not here to preach or teach. I'm not here to show everyone what a strong faith I have. I'm here to share my journey as a girl who always has faith, but is not always faithful.