Category: Jesus

Advent, Christmas, Faith, Jesus, Prayer, Saints, Scripture

The Soul’s Joy – Advent Reflection, December 17th

Carrie Sue Barnes

Week 3, Sunday – December 17th

I rejoice heartily in the Lord, in my God is the joy of my soul.

Isaiah 61:10a, NAB

During my last conversation with my oldest sister, she lie in bed sapped of physical strength, enduring pain without pause, and speaking to me of joy. Joy. She held my hand and told me how important joy was to life. She begged me to guard and grow joy for myself and my children. My spirit was weighed down with grief. There was no cheerfulness in that room. Sadness saturated my heart. And still we spoke of joy.

I’m not sure anything could have been more effective in deepening my understanding of joy; of what it is and what it is not.

Mary had joy in her soul while she waited to know if Joseph would marry her or call for her to be stoned for her pregnancy. Paul had joy in his soul while he endured prison. Pope John Paul II had joy while he hid his priestly ministries from the communist authorities in Poland. Mother Teresa had joy while she was surrounded by endless, unquenchable needs of the ill and impoverished in Calcutta. My sister had joy while cancer stole away the years we all expected her to have on this earth.

God plants joy in the soul, and nurtures it there through the work of the Holy Spirit. Moments of goodness strengthen it, but only God is its true source. It is not an emotion or a state of mind dependent on circumstances.

Joy stands alongside the hope of salvation and the peace of Christ as the pillars of the temple of my soul. It is the condition I can exist in through every storm of suffering. Then in the shining times of happiness, it is the spotlight of perspective. Whether in shadow or sunshine, I have Jesus. I have eternity in the presence of God waiting for me. Therein lies lasting joy.

This third week of Advent is traditionally dedicated to joy. The arrival of Jesus is the arrival of joy in a brand new way. All the many and varied bits of joyfulness God provides are surpassed by the gift of His Son.

When I am exhausted by the work of this season, Lord, anchor me in the abundant joy of Christmas.

When I have reason to smile, Lord, spread the roots of Your joy in my soul.

When my mouth and ears fill with laughter, Lord, let it water the fruit of joy.

When suffering comes my way, Lord, sustain me with the joy of Your promises.

When I am mistreated or rejected, Lord, remind me I am secure in the joy of knowing You.

When I encounter others’ need for You, Lord, make my soul’s joy into a light leading them to You.

Advent, Catholicism, Christmas, Faith, Jesus, Prayer, Scripture

When I See His Face – Advent Reflection, December 16th

Carrie Sue Barnes

Week 3, Saturday – December 16th

O God, restore us; light up your face and we shall be saved.

Psalm 80:4, NAB

In younger years, I had a lot of fun playing hide and seek, the age old childhood game that had us all crouching in dark spaces and wedging ourselves into cupboards and closets. What a victory it was to hear a sibling or friend shout when they’d given up. “Olly, olly, oxen free! You can come out now!” Then came the brief praise for your clever hiding spot and disbelief that they hadn’t thought to check there. This was quickly followed by a shout of whose turn it was to hide and whose to seek as the next round began.

It can feel sometimes like God likes a good game of hide and seek. I’d run out of fingers and toes before I finish counting how many times I’ve begged God to show Himself to me. When I give it any extra thought though, I know God never takes a turn at being the one to hide.

God is perpetually seeking me. He is always showing Himself to me. In the occasions when I cannot detect the light of His face, eventually I discover it was because of an obstacle between me and Him. Whether I or circumstances outside of my control created it, God consistently provides a means to remove any obstacle once I recognize that it’s in the way.

Unlike the fair turns that must be taken in a kids’ game, God never tires of being the seeker of our souls. He does not run out of patience with me. I beg to see Him as if He hasn’t shown Himself to me already, and still He shows up. God does not keep count of all the obstacles I throw in between us, or all the times I walk right past without recognizing His presence on the spot. He will turn the light of his face upon me as many times as it takes, until we are not only face to face but I am held by Him too, never to leave His light again.

On the first Christmas night, God shone His saving light through the face of Jesus Christ. He came, knowing He would be unrecognized by most, rejected by many, and would suffer for all.

Here in the middle of Advent, I ask the Holy Spirit to prompt me to look harder. May I see Him waiting for me in the Eucharist and hear Him calling to me from every page of the scriptures. I pray I will turn to God more often and with eyes open to what stands between us. And I ask that when I see His face, I will recognize the love that leads Him to seek me without fail.

Advent, Christmas, Faith, Holiness, Jesus, Prayer, Scripture

The Author Takes the Lead – Advent Reflection, December 15th

Carrie Sue Barnes

Week 2, Friday – December 15th

I, the Lord, your God, teach you what is for your good and lead you on the way you should go.

Isaiah 48:17

A fun author experience that I’ve occasionally had is when someone tells me what should have happened in my story, or what my characters should have done. I’m not talking about hearing a reader’s opinion on a story, which is a genuine thrill every time, or about receiving constructive feedback from a fellow writer or editor. I’m talking about when someone essentially declares that they know better how to tell the story. The story that only exists because I imagined it. The story that is filled with characters who are my own creations.

Fun might not be the right word for this experience, but there is something laughable about it.

I wonder if God laughs sometimes when I assume I know better how to carry out His story.

We’re not fictional characters, but we are created by an author. We are created by the author; the author of the universe and of each individual life that has ever existed.

My experiences of God aside, simple logic suggests that the creator of my life knows better than anyone how that life ought to play out. He knows how I will get through the crisis points and how I’ll be blessed through the twists and turns. He knows best because He knows me, His creation, best.

If I follow His pen rather than take the pen in my own hand, God will write me a greater story than anything I could aspire to create. He is my true author, the one who determines what is for my good and what is the way I should go.

All the messages, marketing, opinions and ideologies, as well as peers, superiors, friends, and family, and even my own thoughts… there are so many voices willing to tell me how it all should go. Some with good intentions and some with evil in their minds, these voices speak. They shout. They whisper. They overlap and contradict, bringing confusion in their wake. There is only one effective test to determine which voices should have any influence: how do they hold up alongside the voice of my Lord, the author of my life?

It takes practice to listen to Him first and above the others. I’m rebuilding the habit myself. The more time spent tuning in to Him though, the more recognizable His voice becomes. Increasingly often, I find I can pick up on that voice no matter the volume of the rest.

Lord, I pray the remaining days of Advent will be a season of listening for Your voice. You spoke the fullness of truth in the Word made flesh, Jesus Christ, the Son of God. Speak truth into my story. I submit to You as the author of the greatest story of all, the one that brought salvation.

Advent, Christmas, Jesus, Prayer, Scripture

Behold He Comes, the Shepherd King – Advent Reflection, December 10th

Carrie Sue Barnes

Week 2, Sunday – December 10th

Here comes with power the Lord God, who rules by his strong arm; here is his reward with him, his recompense before him. Like a shepherd he feeds his flock; in his arms he gathers his lambs, carrying them in his bosom, and leading the ewes with care.

Isaiah 40:10-11

More than once in the Bible, it’s pointed out that human understanding is not the same as God’s understanding. His ways differ from our ways, and His wisdom far surpasses ours. One of the best representations of this truth, to my mind, is when I consider the contrasts within God’s nature.

God is the all powerful ruler of the universe. God is a gentle shepherd feeding His sheep.

God is the final judge of all. God is mercy.

God demands justice. God forgives.

And on and on.

Already I’ve defaulted to a limited understanding, for I call these contrasts… contradictions… incongruencies, and those are not words to describe the nature of God.

In God, I find perfect love. In perfect love, I find the harmonious coexistence of authority and judgement with patience and mercy. He is my king. He is my shepherd. When I try to confine God within the walls of my own flawed wisdom, these combinations are mind boggling. Impossible, even.

Thankfully, God cannot be confined. The limitations humanity struggles under – how to seek justice and how to be merciful, for instance – are not limitations to Him. It’s why I can trust Him with the justice I cannot achieve by my own efforts. It is how I can approach God with deep repentance and regret of my sins, and unshakeable confidence that He will welcome me into His loving arms.

Lord, help me to see myself and others in light of who You are, instead of the other way around. I entrust myself to Your judgement and Your mercy. I revere You and I joyfully run to You. Overshadow my wisdom with Yours, my king and my savior.

Advent, Catholicism, Christmas, Faith, Hope, Jesus, Love, Prayer, Scripture

Like Sheep, or Cows, or Humans – Advent Reflection, December 9th

Carrie Sue Barnes

Week One, Saturday – December 9th

At the sight of the crowds, his heart was moved with pity for them because they were troubled and abandoned, like sheep without a shepherd.

Matthew 9:36, NAB

Cows used to wander into our yard from the neighboring farm when I was growing up in Michigan. The cows escaped the grazing field’s fences a few times a year and clomped up the road to my parents’ property. Vehicles needed to avoid them, their hooves tore up our grass, and one even kicked a large, lovely dent in our car door. Oh, and they pooped. A lot.

It was messy and aggravating. Yet, I always felt a little sorry for those wandering cows. When the farmer showed up to herd them back home, usually with my dad’s assistance, I imagined the cows felt the cow version of relief, and that the familiar ground and boundaries of the farm brought a sense of safety. “This is where I belong. It is good to be here with you,” they’d say in the language of Moos as they gazed at the farmer with their big, dark eyes.

Maybe if Jesus hailed from the Midwest, the crowds of people would have reminded Him of cows without a farmer. No matter the livestock comparison though, Jesus looks on us the same way. He sees us break through boundaries that only exist for our wellbeing. He understands our curiosity and tendency to wander, and He is aware of the resulting wounds. Like a caring shepherd or farmer, He goes out to find us. He meets us not with anger and condemnation, but with compassion and wisdom.

I have a picture on my wall that says, “Dear one, you are not being condemned. You are being rescued.” I put it up while I was deep in the turmoil of changing my life. The changes couldn’t come without acknowledgement of the ways I’d chosen to walk away from God and the life I was meant to lead. With that acknowledgement came the great gift of forgiveness, yet I struggled every day with harsh judgment of myself. God had cast aside my sin as soon as I asked, but I still clung to it and let it slow down every step I was making toward Him.

Like Jesus looking at the crowd in the Gospel story, He looked on me with pity. Through times in prayer and reading God’s word, and through voices sent into my life to speak truth and share love, Jesus met me where I stood in the crowd. He and the ones He sent reached out to untangle my feet from the briars of sin and its aftermath. He saw me as worthy of rescuing, and for that I thank Him daily.

We’re all in the crowd. We’re all in need of our divine shepherd. In preparing for Christmas, let us prepare for the great celebration of our shepherd’s arrival. He comes to rescue. He comes to heal. He comes to love.

Advent, Catholicism, Christmas, Faith, Jesus, Love, Saints, Scripture

The Wonder of God’s Choice – Advent Reflection, December 8th

Carrie Sue Barnes

Week One, Friday – December 8th

Brothers and sisters: Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing in the heavens, as he chose us in him, before the foundation of the world, to be holy and without blemish before him.

Ephesians 1:3-4, NAB

Say it about yourself.

This was advice I received once when I was struggling to see the promises of God as applicable to me. I felt like I was watching the goodness from a distance. I’m susceptible to reading and speaking of the marvelous love and works of God only in large scale, all-humanity terms. Doing so protects me from the vulnerability of the personal nature of divine love. In a contemplative vision of Jesus, St. Teresa of Avila once heard Him say that He would create the universe again just to hear her say that she loves Him. A love that deep is entirely personal and invites the vulnerable surrender of my heart to His. Since vulnerability scares the daylights out of me, I’m learning to look that fear in the face and say the truth about myself.

Blessed be the God and Father of my Lord Jesus Christ.

He has blessed me in Christ with every spiritual blessing.

He chose me in Him, before the foundation of the world.

He chose me. He chose me. I get stuck on that one (in a good way) and find it only makes sense from God’s perspective, not mine.

I wonder if Mary got stuck on it too. It’s easy enough to imagine. After the angel Gabriel’s declaration that she had found favor with God, she may have marveled, “He chose me.” With her massive act of faith in saying yes to God’s plans , she perhaps let it sink in – the honor of it all – with the thought, “He chose me.” And “He chose me” might have been the reassurance she rested upon while facing the questions of how and why and what was to come.

God didn’t choose me to be the mother of my Lord, but He did choose me to be who I am. He prepared the avenue for my existence from farther back than centuries of generations. He ordained the ways my life could build the Kingdom of God, if I say yes to His plans. The people I have the opportunity to love, God saw fit to make me the one to give that love. He placed in me the voice I carry and its potential to deliver truth, beauty, and goodness. He designed by His hand the spiritual gifts I could possess.

He chose Mary.

He chose Joseph.

He chose Peter.

He chose John.

He chose Paul.

He chose me.

He chose you.

From before the foundation of the world.

Say it about yourself: He chose me. I choose Him.

Advent, Catholicism, Faith, Jesus, Love, Prayer, Scripture

Build It on the Rock – Advent Reflection, December 7th

Carrie Sue Barnes

Week One, Thursday – December 7th

Everyone who listens to these words of mine and acts on them will be like a wise man who built his house on rock.”

Matthew 7:24, NAB

“Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“I did tell you!”

If I had a nickel for every time I’ve been in that argument, I’d pay all my bills in nickels. Of course, I’ve occupied both sides of it, and since it only ever happens between me and another imperfect person, I’ve been both in the right and in the wrong.

There is only one person with whom I could never possibly win this argument. I can picture it now… me standing beside Jesus on the edge of heaven while He speaks of my life in full truthfulness. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I’d exclaim. Jesus would give me that look that says, “Really?” and I’d know better than to continue.

How awful it feels when I’m on the “why didn’t you?” side of the debate. There is a feeling of helplessness when I realize I didn’t know what I needed to know. It’s compounded by the aspect of betrayal when I also discover that someone did know and didn’t tell me. No matter how minor or major the missing information, it stings each time.

God loves us too much to not tell us. He loves us too perfectly to leave us vulnerable to that unsettling experience. He is never negligent. He is not forgetful or subject to error. He gives us the truth in love and will not let us be caught unaware.

In speaking of the one who “listens to these words and acts on them,” the Lord sets the expectation. I read that passage and hear Jesus whispering in my heart.

Yes, the truth of the gospel should change things. You aren’t imagining it. My love really is what makes all the difference. And if it doesn’t make a difference, your house is on the sand.

The truth should prompt action. I don’t get to hear of God’s saving love for me and remain unchanged. At least, not if I want to meet the open gaze of my savior and say to him, “Lord, Lord,” as He leads me into the splendor of heaven.

There will be storms, with buffeting winds and waves, on the way there. Yet faith tells me I do not need to be afraid of any change God may lead me into. In listening to Him, I am equipped to build a storm-surviving house on the rock. His words are meant for me. The arrival of Jesus is not only the turning point for the individuals who encounter Him on the gospel pages, it is my turning point. It must be.

Lord, be my turning point. Be the cause of every change You desire to effect in me. May I listen and act, and stand upon You, my rock and my salvation.