I am in a place in my life, that last bit of my journey, that rounding the corner and spotting the finish line, where I could easily bemoan my failings. I’m now certain it’s too late for, oh, I don’t know, running the New York City marathon or climbing Kilimanjaro. Beyond that, I don’t know.
The blessings of uncertainty
Uncertainty seems to be rejected by many Christians who see it as a weakness. Certitude, on the other hand, is what we subscribe to in a faith that makes God more acceptable and knowable, with no surprises lurking in the bushes. It offers a checklist of everything we need to do to “get to heaven” – Attend church weekly. Check. Tithe 10% of your earnings before expenses and frivolous spending. Check-ish. No cursing, snarkiness, or holier-than-thouness – on Sundays – the rest of the week is fine.
If you’ve checked those boxes, nothing more is expected of you – EVER! You can just go about your life any way you please. I can profess to having been all in with those “rules”. Until I wasn’t. That’s the point in my life when I looked back and saw the emptiness and shallowness of my existence. That’s when God spoke into my brokenness and showed me his equally broken heart because he knew he created me for more. The gifts and blessings he had given me sat unused because of fear and doubt that I was worthy of them.
In this place, I thought I could act as if God didn’t really care, and I could go about my life risk-free. But what if my denying that my life actually had a purpose turned out to be a no-good, very bad, nightmarish end? What then? Could I take my “followed all the rules” checklist to the gates of heaven, and they would open wide to me while the angels sang hallelujah? (BTW, heaven isn’t a place. You know that, right?) Anyway…
I ever so slowly began to sit with God and actually listen to his promptings to “go,” like Abraham. I trusted him—mostly. I also resisted my impulses to explain to him why whatever direction he was pointing me in was probably not a good idea. I reminded him of the litany of all my failings and wondered if someone else (think Moses) might be a better choice. Is Aaron still around?
Slow but steady change
I know exactly when I began to change. It was in 2001, on that momentous day, in the early morning, when God butted into my perfectly peaceful run and changed my life. I’ve told that story often, so I won’t bore you with it again, except to say that God has had me on a lot of adventures since then!
I have had many fits and starts and often questioned the wisdom of his guidance, only to see afterward how each experience changed and grew me in some way. They have each played a part in helping me to believe that God’s plan for each of us is perfect – always! And if you doubt that for a moment, let me share this incredible story about St. Benedict Joseph Labore. Everything in quotations is taken from the book SAINTS FOR SINNERS by Alban Goodier, S.J. https://www.ewtn.com/catholicism/library/st-benedict-joseph-labre-the-beggar-saint-5838.
The poor, homeless, beggar saint who never stumbled
Saint Benedict Joseph Labore was born into a wealthy family. His parents and fourteen siblings loved that lifestyle, but not Benedict. He rejected their obsession with fame and fortune – it disgusted him. So, off he went as a young teenager to make his own way, to discover his purpose. He was certain he was destined to be a monk. But it was a long road with many rejections and disappointments along the way.
He was first drawn to the Trappist Order as their ideas were contrary to what everyone else seemed to treasure. He applied to the La Trappe Abby, but when he arrived, they rejected him, stating that “He was underage, he was too delicate; he had no special recommendations.” But he didn’t give up. He applied to the the Carthusians of Montreuil only to be rejected once again. Still unwilling to give up, he applied to another Carthusain order. He was accepted but was soon rejected by them because “The monks grew uneasy; they feared for the brain of this odd young man. They told him he had no vocation, and he was dismissed.” Even after being rejected three times and being told he was simply not monk material, he was still resolute, knowing differently in his heart.
Undeterred, he began a year-long course of studies the Carthusians listed as the cause of his rejection. He reapplied, and they accepted him. But, again, it was short-lived, and they showed him the door. Still, he tried two more times for acceptance, to no avail.
So, at the age of twenty-five, undeterred and still determined to live his calling, he set off on his own, with nothing and no one to accompany him. He endured the extreme elements, ate what was given to him by the generosity of others, and he smelled – bad! But, somehow, he felt “no bitterness or disappointment” in this life of poverty that he embraced. He died a pauper at the age of thirty-four. Awww, too bad, you say? What a wasted life, you say? Wellll….
Here comes a miracle!
Word quickly got out that he died: “So great was the crowd that the guard of police had to be doubled; a line of soldiers accompanied the body to the church; more honor could scarcely have been paid to a royal corpse.
From the moment it was laid there, the church thronged with mourners….The throng all the time went on increasing. People of every rank and condition gathered there, at the feet of Benedict the Beggar. But the enthusiasm did not end with the funeral. Crowds continued to flock to the church, and soldiers were called out to keep order. At length the expedient was tried of closing the church altogether for some days. It was of no avail; as soon as the church was reopened, the crowds came again and continued coming for two months. Nothing like it had been seen before, even in Rome; if ever anyone was declared a saint by popular acclamation it was Benedict Joseph Labre, the beggar.”
Who am I to question God’s plan?
Now, I could easily compare St. Benedict’s story to my own meager efforts to use the gifts God has given me to serve and care for others. But what I have learned from this is that God isn’t asking for perfection. He has no expectations other than the offering of my “yes” to him and that I will do my best. The rest belongs to him. And the only thing I should long for at the end of my life are the words, “Well done!” Well done – indeed!
PASSION, PURPOSE & POOPYHEADS 