More Than an Idea

I wanted to share some of the wisdom from the "Ignited by Truth" conference I attended in Raleigh this past weekend. Below are notes, quotes, and paraphrases from two of the talks that most resonated with me. "The First Society: The Sacrament of Matrimony and the Restoration of the Social Order" by Dr. Scott Hahn The nature of our relationship with God: covenant or contract? Contractual: this is yours, this is mine... Convenantal: I am yours, you are mine... A child is an incarnation of spousal love; inherently the family mirrors the Holy Trinity: the Holy Spirit is love exchanged between the Father and the Son. "God is a Family: the Holy Spirit is not a power but a person." Our crises of faith parallel and manifest themselves within the challenges of contemporary family life. Marriage is the Gospel itself. (Ponder that one...) The New Evangelization isn't so much about reaching those who haven't heard the Gospel; much of the Church

The message of John 15, this coming Sunday’s gospel reading , is a call to a culture longing for connection. Jesus tells his disciples that he is the true vine and that God the Father is the vine grower. Jesus is not just “a vine,” he is the true vine. This reminds his followers that the world is full of false vines—weeds and webs that are not grown or nurtured by God. These false vines are unhealthy relationships. They are dependencies and addictions: to pleasure or to pornography, to people-pleasing or to paychecks, to politics or to princes. These things are vying for our attention, our connection. But God is His goodness and mercy prunes us of these false vines, of measly or meandering twigs, removing my dead leaves and any rotting fruit. God prunes His vine, the Body of Christ, by trimming, cutting, removing the excess, the ugly, the scary, the bunched-up-branchy-baggage. This does not mean that God is a vine hater or destroyer! No! God is the vine growe

Writing is difficult. The task is not easy. Coming upon day 6, I recognize this challenge. Ideas come and go; some are worth keeping, others should be left aside, cast away as distracting temptations. However this "Writer's Block" may not necessarily be a bad thing. What is there to learn, to realize, if there is no struggle? Is there truly any advance, any development, any victory, if there is no challenge? A commitment is a commitment regardless of how I'm feeling five days, five minutes, after making a commitment. Although I have not (and don't intend to...anytime soon at least) committed or vowed to commit to be a "serious" writer, I recognize the value in persevering in these goals despite any aridity or dry spells. The same is true of a relationship or our spiritual life. We grow, we learn, we adapt, we adjust, throughout moments that are not particularly easy, warm and fuzzy, or peachy. Imagine a circumstance where a newly married couple gets in

When I had Twitter, I would cycle through a variety of usernames. One of the most memorable, perhaps cheesy, was "feelin_lukewarm." I look back on this with jest now; however there's something worth considering when it comes to carrying a "lukewarm" disposition. What does it mean to be lukewarm? We're neither hot, nor cold. It's tepid, like dry pond water. (A bit gunky; not very fish friendly.) It could be compared to apathy, indifference. Yet it seems more appropriately defined as a lack of willingness to commit. One foot is in the fire, the other is out.  It doesn't represent a "yes," nor does it represent a "no." To be lukewarm is to live on the fence, always saying "maybe," sometimes saying "yes" and other times saying "no."  Lukewarmness signifies an identity crisis. It is a post-commitment relapse into un-belief. (Not dis-belief , but a refusal to even entertain true belief or tr

Love is a Person.  It weeps. It embraces.  It endures.  Love gives life.  It creates.  It nurtures. It protects. Love sanctifies.  It encourages.  It applauds. It praises.  Love is a Person. It sacrifices.  It is sacrifice.  It is sacrificed.  Love is patient, kind, slow to anger... we "know" that Love never fails; yet so often, we fail it. We fail it when we think we've found it, when we "have it under control." When we "know" our lover.  Impossible, since Love is fire.  It cannot be contained. It cannot be measured. It cannot be limited. Love is boundless. It is reckless. It is unconditional and unconditioned. Love is raw.  It is bloody; it bleeds.  It dies so that the Beloved might live, so that the Beloved might know what true love is: what it looks like, what it sounds like, what is tastes like, what it promises. Love is a Person not waiting

"Do you understand what you are reading?" He replied, "How can I, unless someone instructs me?" You can't. I can't. No one can. Alone, we cannot understand; we cannot live this life. Infants come into this world dependent upon their parents. From our family we learn language, the ways of the world, behaviors, cultural norms, our religious persuasions or lack thereof. We are creatures that are inherently dependent upon a creator or sustainers that continue to create and sustain life in us. This life is physical (food). This life is emotional (affection). This life is social (community). This life is mental (knowledge). This life is spiritual (faith, hope, and love). Taught how to hold a spoon, we eat the soup. Instructed how to call you by name, we build relationships. Guided how to read body language, we communicate desires and feelings. Inspired how to read, to study, to learn, we cultivate intellectual passions. Led along a path that seek

What’s worth shouting for? We shout for what we want to defend. We shout for those whom we love. We shout out of excitement, ecstasy. We shout out of anger, ire, disgust… shouting seems to make a stake, a claim, a commitment to or relationship with someone (perhaps a lover, a deity) or something (an ideology, a sporting event). Our shouts are proclamations of favor or renunciation. We shout against what we refute; we shout for what we believe in and support. But shouting isn’t common. It’s not popular in literary dialogues or in day-to-day speech, even “office talk.” I rarely raise my voice. “Shouting” isn’t something I like to do, because, well, it’s risky. It’s a bold proclamation of belief or disbelief, of support or rejection. Like an infant, to shout is to cry out in love or in fear, out of anxiety or out of jubilation.   But why resist shouting? Why resist telling the world what we love? What we dislike? But more so, what we love, what gives us life? To shout is

Where am I from and where am I going? When I graduated from twelve years of Catholic schooling, I didn’t really know the "end goal" or purpose of the Christian life. Sure, I had some elusive concept of the Kingdom of God and our eternal destination as a people of God…but I was never told or encouraged to embrace this as my truth, my way, my life, more so,  my destiny . Sanctity was something persevered for those who had given their life to serve God as contemplative nuns, priests, or pious people out on the streets proclaiming the word of God in love and in truth. Often I was left wondering: What’s all of this for? These uniforms, these commandments? What’s the purpose of the Mass? Why do I need to confess my sins? Why do we pray before we start our day? Why do I need to take class on Social Justice or Morality? Although these questions each have their own unique and necessary responses, there is an underlying insecurity that anchors them all: why am I doing whatever