How crazy is that? Now that is mercy!
Big surprise, huh? I've spent many of my 22 years dreaming up the most perfect wedding. And since the creation of Pinterest, the harmless dreaming has become a borderline-addictive pinning-spree of dresses, cakes and the world's most adorable flower girl outfits. So, it's only natural, that I fell in love with the story of the Wedding at Cana when I started praying the rosary regularly last year.
Perhaps the toughest part of forgiveness is forgiving ourselves. This Lent, I've made specific efforts to forgive myself for past wrongdoings. I've reflected on what lead me to those sins or mistakes. I've confessed them and have felt Jesus take them off of my shoulders. The freedom that comes with Jesus' forgiveness is life-changing. But we have to let it change our lives. We have to accept that He forgives us. He doesn't hold a grudge, so who are we to hold one?
Jesus Christ is both justice and mercy. The Law of Moses required for the woman to be stoned; He didn't fail to invite others to stone her. He even opened up the opportunity for others to condemn the woman, but only if they met the qualification that He knew no one (besides His mother & Himself ) could meet: 'let the one among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her' (John 8:7).
Among all the people that were present, Christ could've immediately condemned her by His own standards. But He did not condemn her; He showed her mercy.
Ìâ‰âÂÌâÅÒI don't even know how she got on this show if she can't harmonize,' I said as I leaned back in my chair and looked at the TV.
'Megan!' my roommate snapped. 'You're not supposed to be watching TV! Get back to work!'
'I'm not watching, I'm just . . . ' I trailed off, unable to come up with an excuse. I sat back up in my chair and started in on my schoolwork again.
In the Gospel of this radiant night of the Easter Vigil, we first meet the women who go the tomb of Jesus with spices to anoint his body (Luke 24:1-3). They go to perform an act of compassion, a traditional act of affection and love for a dear departed person, just as we would. They had followed Jesus, they had listened to his words, they had felt understood by him in their dignity and they had accompanied him to the very end, to Calvary and to the moment when he was taken down from the cross.
Instead of going into the chapel and pouring out my thoughts or trying really hard to hear Him, I'm just sitting in the silence. His calm, gentle, strong voice always comes to me if I submit to the sacred silence in the chapel.
If I can't make it to the chapel, I can sit in silence with God in my room. My reflection this week on my silent time has flowed nicely with my reflections on not speeding.
What I've learned this week is this: I don't always have to set the pace. Whether it be in the car, in the hallway, or in the chapel – I can take my time. I can slow down. I can breathe. I can listen to His heartbeat, and strive to live my life to the rhythm of that heart beat. Let God set the rhythm, and experience the freedom that it offers.
Picture it: You’re in a hurry. You’re focused on school or work or family or friends, where there are a thousand things going on. You stop real quick to eat in the middle of the day. Halfway through the meal – or a little while after – you remember it’s Friday. And it’s Lent! And that’s a burger in your stomach!! In the words of Homer Simpson, “D’oh!”
When I was a kid, Lent didn't mean a whole lot. Lent meant getting a filet-o-fish instead of a cheeseburger in my usual Friday Happy Meal. It meant that the music at Mass got more ‘Ìâ‰âÂÌâèÏserious,' and we didn't say the 'A' word: you know, (Allelu—). It meant that soon Easter was coming and do you know what that meant? That's right . . . an Easter egg hunt against my brothers!
Ìâ‰âÂÌâÅÒExcuse me, you've got some dirt on your head.' Every year someone says that to me on Ash Wednesday. Maybe it has happened to you too. In the past it used to frustrate me, but in recent years I have come to see it as a great opportunity to evangelize, to share with someone about the most important person in my life: Jesus Christ.
Every year since I've been a Catholic (five years and counting!), I've really loved coming up with different challenges for Lent. One year I gave up eating any meat, last year I read the bible for 30 minutes straight each day no matter what, you get the picture . . . Over the years I've come to realize that it's not just how much we give up or what extra stuff we do, but it’s about the quality of your sacrifice and what you decide to do.
How about giving up some of your time and using it for prayer? In fact, let me make the ultimate suggestion . . .
Are you looking for something unconventional to offer up for Lent? We asked Life Teen missionaries and our friends on Facebook for cool stuff they’ve done in the past. This is what they shared.
Then it happened. In a moment of weakness and stress, I found a Coke and failed my annual challenge once again. I was really frustrated. This was supposed to be the year that I finally got it right, the one Lent that I could finally prove to God and to myself that I could do it. I spent a day or two so frustrated that I couldn't bring myself to pray. I couldn't face the God who suffered and died for me when I couldn't give up a freaking soft drink.
I have refused sweets many times already this Lent. I don't refuse them because I'm scared of breaking a promise or afraid God will triple the calories for disobeying my Lenten commitment. I refuse the sweets because it's one of the things I decided to do for Lent. I'd rather take the seemingly sad situation as a chance to run to Jesus and unite my (puny) sufferings with His. I prefer to be moved and driven by love, not fear. Remember that we are the beloved. Notice that we word beloved breaks up into be-loved.
Here we are, on Fat Tuesday … and if you're like me, you're scrambling to decide what exactly you're giving up for the next 40 days. Will it be candy … no, procrastinating’Ìâ‰âÂÌâ_ or maybe you'll finally tackle that missing prayer time. The possibilities seem infinite and overwhelming. Before you know it, there are going to be ashes on your forehead and all your Catholic friends will be asking, 'So what did YOU give up this year?' Don't worry too much. I've been thinking about it, and I have some rock-solid advice on how to make this the most productive (and rewarding) Lent ever.