Steel is Strengthened with Fire

A little wickedness thrown my way is good news.  It means I am doing something right for Christ and there is always a lesson to learn. My lesson this time?  The number of people shining the Light of Christ overshadows those creating darkness. I'd say 100 to 1 in favor of Jesus and His Love in those whom I come in contact with via this blog.  But there are those "1's" who condemn and judge, giving the Church a reputation of nonacceptance.  And I am talking about people who call themselves Christians. For those of you away from the Church, take heart.  There are many of us out here who have screwed up and found our way back, ignoring people who get in our way of Christ and His Church.  The majority of us in Church on Sunday have sinned in one way or another.  After all, Church is a hospital for the sick, right? Some of us keep repeating mistakes until we learn (I always ask Jesus to slap me in the face with the answer . . . and He always does in His time, not mine!) and confess, out loud, our transgressions. Admit the truth. Stay humble, lay apostles. If you fall, get right back up again and vow to be better . . . do better. Jesus is rooting for you!

In todays Gospel (Luke 8:16-18), Jesus teaches the crowd to shine His Light:

Jesus said to the crowd: "No one who lights a lamp conceals it with a vessel or sets it under a bed; rather, he places it on a lampstand so that those who enter may see the light. For there is nothing hidden that will not become visible, and nothing secret that will not be known and come to light. Take care, then, how you hear. To anyone who has, more will be given, and from the one who has not, even what he seems to have will be taken away."

And in todays first reading (Proverbs 3:27-34), I just couldn't pass up posting this:

The curse of the LORD is on the house of the wicked, but the dwelling of the just he blesses; When dealing with the arrogant, he is stern, but to the humble he shows kindness.

In Anne a lay apostle's book The Mist of Mercy, she hits the nail on the head in dealing with wickedness:

"It will help to look beyond the one who attacks us to the possible author of that person’s thoughts. Anger, while inevitable at times, can be a waste of energy. We must save our strength and direct it to serving God and allowing His Kingdom to come through us on every single day. When we identify symptoms of the devil’s anger or resistance, it helps to ask the following question: What is it that the enemy seeks to spoil? Quite often the answer will be peace, be it peace in the home, the workplace, or the world at large. Or the enemy could seek to destroy a relationship that is necessary for God’s plan to advance. Remember that the enemy is the destroyer of peace. We must always work to establish and maintain peace. I try to look at situations in two ways. I consider first, what is it that the enemy would like me to do? How is the devil setting me up? Then I consider what decision or response would please Jesus most. What does Jesus want me to do? Therein lay both the struggle and the opportunity for holiness. The soul groans. Humanity objects. Growth pains are evident. There are times when we say, “Lord, it’s too hard.” At times we fail. But if we can learn to identify and distinguish between the Lord’s way and the enemy’s way, we are at least in the game. We must be prepared for battle by being smaller, meeker, and more humble than God’s enemy. Our Leader was meek and humble of heart, after all. Forgiveness was a way of life for Jesus."

I want to end with a beautiful poem Deacon Tony read at Mass this past Sunday.  Jay and I were teary eyed as he read:

The Race

                Attributed to Dr. D.H. "Dee" Groberg

Whenever I start to hang my head in front of failure’s face, 
    my downward fall is broken by the memory of a race. 
A children’s race, young boys, young men; how I remember well, 
    excitement sure, but also fear, it wasn’t hard to tell. 
They all lined up so full of hope, each thought to win that race 
    or tie for first, or if not that, at least take second place. 
Their parents watched from off the side, each cheering for their son, 
    and each boy hoped to show his folks that he would be the one.

The whistle blew and off they flew, like chariots of fire, 
    to win, to be the hero there, was each young boy’s desire. 
One boy in particular, whose dad was in the crowd, 
    was running in the lead and thought “My dad will be so proud.” 
But as he speeded down the field and crossed a shallow dip, 
    the little boy who thought he’d win, lost his step and slipped. 
Trying hard to catch himself, his arms flew everyplace, 
    and midst the laughter of the crowd he fell flat on his face. 
As he fell, his hope fell too; he couldn’t win it now. 
    Humiliated, he just wished to disappear somehow.

But as he fell his dad stood up and showed his anxious face, 
    which to the boy so clearly said, “Get up and win that race!” 
He quickly rose, no damage done, behind a bit that’s all, 
    and ran with all his mind and might to make up for his fall. 
So anxious to restore himself, to catch up and to win, 
    his mind went faster than his legs. He slipped and fell again. 
He wished that he had quit before with only one disgrace. 
    “I’m hopeless as a runner now, I shouldn’t try to race.”

But through the laughing crowd he searched and found his father’s face 
    with a steady look that said again, “Get up and win that race!” 
So he jumped up to try again, ten yards behind the last. 
    “If I’m to gain those yards,” he thought, “I’ve got to run real fast!” 
Exceeding everything he had, he regained eight, then ten... 
    but trying hard to catch the lead, he slipped and fell again. 
Defeat! He lay there silently. A tear dropped from his eye. 
    “There’s no sense running anymore! Three strikes I’m out! Why try? 
I’ve lost, so what’s the use?” he thought. “I’ll live with my disgrace.” 
    But then he thought about his dad, who soon he’d have to face.

“Get up,” an echo sounded low, “you haven’t lost at all, 
    for all you have to do to win is rise each time you fall. 
Get up!” the echo urged him on, “Get up and take your place! 
    You were not meant for failure here! Get up and win that race!” 
So, up he rose to run once more, refusing to forfeit, 
    and he resolved that win or lose, at least he wouldn’t quit. 
So far behind the others now, the most he’d ever been, 
    still he gave it all he had and ran like he could win. 
Three times he’d fallen stumbling, three times he rose again. 
    Too far behind to hope to win, he still ran to the end.

They cheered another boy who crossed the line and won first place, 
    head high and proud and happy -- no falling, no disgrace. 
But, when the fallen youngster crossed the line, in last place, 
    the crowd gave him a greater cheer for finishing the race. 
And even though he came in last with head bowed low, unproud, 
    you would have thought he’d won the race, to listen to the crowd. 
And to his dad he sadly said, “I didn’t do so well.” 
    “To me, you won,” his father said. “You rose each time you fell.”

And now when things seem dark and bleak and difficult to face, 
    the memory of that little boy helps me in my own race. 
For all of life is like that race, with ups and downs and all. 
    And all you have to do to win is rise each time you fall. 
And when depression and despair shout loudly in my face, 
    another voice within me says, “Get up and win that race!”

Thank you, Lord, for the armor You and Our Lady protect me with.  All I can say is, thank You, thank You, thank You!

God bless,

Bonnie