Category: Scripture

Because the Saints Said So, Catholicism, Faith, Holiness, Saints, Scripture

Because the Saints Said So: On Sadness and the Spirit (St. Pio)

Carrie Sue Barnes

In the past few years, the saint whose words and stories have resonated with me the most is St. Pio of Pietrelcina. An Italian farmboy born in 1887; a world renowned miracle worker known for his humility, integrity, and simple wisdom by the time he died in 1968. There are plenty of biographical details worth examining from his life but that is not the purpose of this post.

Numerous statements by St. Pio have I read, considered, prayed over, and taken to heart. Most recently, the one that is staying with me is this: “Don’t allow sadness to dwell in your soul, for sadness prevents the Holy Spirit from acting freely.”

My first response was, “Well, that’s just too much to ask!” But I stared a little longer at the words. I wondered if it was a matter of refusing to be sad about anything. That seemed unnatural and impossible. Was it about not letting the sadness reach your soul then? That could be debated, I suppose, but I still believed I hadn’t hit the nail on the head. True sadness does reach the soul. That’s the nature of the beast. So what then was St. Pio challenging me to do?

Eventually my eyes lingered on one word: dwell. Don’t allow sadness to dwell.

Dwell: verb: 1. to live or stay as a permanent resident; reside; 2. to live or continue in a given condition or state

Don’t let sadness be a resident. Allow sadness to be a visitor. Treat it as such. Visitors require attention. Meet the needs of the visitor of sadness. Ignoring it is not appropriate. Visitors (hopefully) come for a reason. They are present but they are expected to depart. Visitors are not permanent residents.

St. Pio is not demanding the impossible. Nor is he saying anything that wasn’t already indicated long ago in Scripture by Jesus and his apostles.

So you also are now in anguish. But I will see you again, and your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take your joy away from you (John 16:22).

Blessed are they who mourn, for they will be comforted (Matthew 5:4). 

I consider that the sufferings of this present time are as nothing compared with the glory to be revealed for us (Romans 8:18). 

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who in his great mercy gave us a new birth to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you who by the power of God are safeguarded through faith, to a salvation that is ready to be revealed in the final time. In this you rejoice, although now for a little while you may have to suffer through various trials, so that the genuineness of your faith, more precious than gold that is perishable even though tested by fire, may prove to be for praise, glory, and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ (1 Peter 1:3-7, emphasis added).

They and St. Pio challenge us to give sadness its proper due but nothing more.

What should you allow to “dwell in your soul?” Well, St. Pio touches on that, too. The rightful resident of your soul is the Holy Spirit, and therefore the gifts and fruits of the Holy Spirit.

Do you not know that you are the temple of God, and that the Spirit of God dwells in you (1 Corinthians 3:16)?

Gifts;
The spirit of the Lord shall rest upon him: a spirit of wisdom and of understanding, a spirit of counsel and of strength [fortitude], a spirit of knowledge and of fear of the Lord, and his delight shall be the fear of the Lord [piety] (Isaiah 11:2-3a, emphasis & notes added).

Fruits:
In contrast, the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control. Against such there is no law (Galatians 5:22-23, emphasis added).

When visitors like sadness are allowed to act as residents, the life and work of the Holy Spirit is fettered and obstructed. Luggage blocking the hallways where the Spirit should move freely. In the case of sadness, it is the fruit of joy that is most inhibited. However if joy is a resident of your soul while sadness, caused by any number of things, is only given a visitor’s pass, you will not lose your joy.

Joy is not merely a higher degree of happiness. It is different than happiness. Joy is rooted in hope, particularly the hope of salvation. As its roots then link it to eternity, Joy is not eroded by the changing tides of circumstances the way that happiness can be. Certainly circumstances can affect our joy, strengthening or weakening our awareness of joy or our ability to choose joy in our reactions to things. Circumstances cannot steal authentic joy though. That is among its key differences from happiness.

It is wrong to say that a Christian should never be sad. It is right to say that a Christian does not allow sadness to be a resident of the soul.

Faith, Jesus, Scripture

On the Water

Carrie Sue Barnes

Then he made his disciples get into the boat and precede him to the other side toward Bethsaida, while he dismissed the crowd. And when he had taken leave of them, he went off to the mountain to pray.

When it was evening, the boat was far out on the sea and he was alone on the shore. Then he saw that they were tossed about while rowing, for the wind was against them. About the fourth watch of the night, he came toward them walking on the sea. He meant to pass by them.

But when they saw him walking on the sea, they thought it was a ghost and cried out. They had all seen him and were terrified. But at once he spoke with them, “Take courage, it is I, do not be afraid!” He got into the boat with them and the wind died down. They were completely astounded. 

They had not understood the incident of the loaves. On the contrary, their hearts were hardened.     Mark 6:45-52

I am much more familiar with Matthew’s account of Jesus walking on the water than I am with Mark’s. The number of words and actions that stood out to me upon my recent reading of this passage tells me that anytime I’ve studied this particular story of Jesus, I made use of only Matthew’s account.

Right out of the gate, I note that Jesus made his disciples go in the boat and leave him behind. It gives the impression that they didn’t want to leave, didn’t wish to be separated from him. They had just witnessed the miraculous feeding of the five thousand. They were likely amazed, but confused, and had questions for Jesus. I would guess they were looking forward to some time spent with Jesus without the crowd so the twelve of them could ask those questions and mull over what had happened. Instead, Jesus tells them to take the boat to the other side of the sea and leave him behind.

On their way they encounter high winds and waves. It is stressful, exhausting, and possibly frightening. And Jesus is not with them. They don’t know he’s watching them from the shore. They don’t know he is seeing their travail.

Then Jesus takes to the water. He begins walking across the sea. Easily could we think “He’s going to them.” Jesus must be walking to his disciples, his closest companions, friends, and followers. He sees their hardship and He is going to them. Thus my surprise when I read “He meant to pass by them.” What?! This is the line that baffled me when I read this passage recently. It’s been on my mind for at least a week. “He meant to pass by them.” He was simply going to walk by them and leave them to the storm? He wasn’t going to help? He wasn’t going to get into the boat with them and calm the wind? Really, Jesus? Why?

It took until today, thinking on this yet again, to change my tune. “He meant to pass by them.” As in, He meant to get close enough for them to see Him. Close enough for them to call to Him, to ask Him to help. Yes. That is what Jesus meant to do. Instead of keeping His distance, waiting out the storm, or even helping from afar – instead of this, He would draw near. He would help them in the midst of their trouble. He would make Himself personally available to them.

I’m not claiming this is the only possible interpretation of this moment in the Gospel. As far as what the disciples themselves realized about Jesus in that experience, I can’t speak to that either. I am simply speaking as a person of faith reading this passage yet again and considering the manner in which our Lord sometimes chooses to help His beloved ones. We might want Jesus to stay with us in the particular manner we prefer, but He says no, you must go forward in the way I’m instructing you. We may want Him to appear in our midst, in our struggles, and take over the helm of the ship. He instead draws near and waits for us to recognize Him and call to Him.

God’s help, His saving grace and guiding hand, often come in surprising ways. He’s apt to choose the less obvious, the less understandable manner of meeting us on our wind tossed boats. And in every instance He commands, “Do not be afraid!” Do not fear! Trust in me! Know that I am here, that I, the Lord of Heaven and Earth, am available to you. I am here. Be not afraid.

Faith, Scripture

The Art of Waiting

Carrie Sue Barnes

I don’t consider myself an artist. That’s simply not a label I have ever used to describe who I am or what I do. The last five months and especially the last week though, have given me every opportunity to become an artist in a very specific genre: the art of waiting. Waiting on efforts to bear fruit, hopes to be fulfilled, plans to be successful, and prayers to be answered. These acts of waiting characterized my and my family’s days. I call them “acts” for waiting is not necessarily a passive thing. There’s a lot of effort to be put into waiting, or at least into waiting rightly. Waiting with hope; waiting with peace; waiting with intentionality. It’s hard. It is SO hard.

And now as the efforts and hopes of those five months are finally bringing about fruitful change, as we’re packing our home to move and preparing for my husband to start a new job, I find myself still wrapped up in the art of waiting. My unborn daughter is teasing me with days of early labor contractions, hanging out in there for longer than I or my doctor expected. I’m scheduled to be induced in two days and that scares me for some reason way beyond any nervousness I might feel about going into labor and delivering this baby any time now.

Just the same as all the days in those five months that I’m glad are wrapping up now, I can’t depend on much other than trust, prayers, and feeble attempts at patience. The art of waiting is centered on acknowledging that there is so little in my own control – and then believing that is perfectly okay.

“Be still and know that I am God.” (Ps 46:11)

“But do not ignore this one fact, beloved, that with the Lord one day is like a thousand years and a thousand years like one day. The Lord does not delay His promise, as some regard ‘delay,’ but He is patient with you, not wishing that any should perish but that all should come to repentance.” (2 Peter 3:8-9)

“Peace I leave with you, My peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give it to you. Do not let your hearts be troubled or afraid.” (John 14:27)

Faith, Holiness, Scripture

The Look of Trust

Carrie Sue Barnes

Depending on the day, saying I trust in God can land anywhere on the spectrum of easy to difficult. In the best mindset though (note: not necessarily the best circumstances, but the best mindset), aware of God’s promises, of His nature, and of all the ways He’s cared for me in the past, I can readily say that I trust in God.

Trust in God for what? “I trust in God” is truly an unfinished statement. For what? With what?

Added to these questions is the wondering, “what does that look like?” When trust is real, when it accomplishes what it ought in my heart and mind, what does that look like? Surely a life lived with trust in God has some noticeable differences from a life lived without.

Today is as good a day as any for me to think through these questions as the trusting is landing somwhere near the more difficult-but-extremely-necessary end of the spectrum.

A couple nights ago, I started reading the Psalms to my son (via my belly). I thought about how all the books and folks say that baby in the womb can sense and react to the way Mom is feeling, especially when it comes to stress, anger, distress, fear, etc. It struck me that, because it doesn’t cause concern health-wise, it’s not talked about so much from the opposite angle. Does consistent peacefulness, a restful mind, a gentle spirit do as much good for the developing child as the opposite does harm? I like to think the answer to that is yes.

The words I read to my unborn son spoke frequently of trust, strength, peace, provision – all coming from the Lord. And that’s really what it comes down to, doesn’t it? That’s where the difference lies. A life lived in trust in God means I look to Him for what I need. I trust Him with the worries plaguing me. I trust Him with the potential joy or sorrow that could come of a relationship or experience. I trust Him with the ones I love and whom I wish I could save from every harm. I trust Him with my hopes. I trust Him with my self!

The peace of mind, the needs of each day, the strength and wisdom in each circumstance; I don’t look to anything or anyone before God. He may provide through other things and other people, but I look to Him first and above all. And when He provides by whatever means He chooses, I remember and am certain that the answers came from Him, not anywhere else. I don’t get chained down by worry and fear because a need placed in God’s hands means it is in His hands. In His care. A pretty notion? No, a powerful notion. If I can encourage my children not to worry or be afraid because they can rest assured that their mother and father are caring for them, how much more can a life changing example be set by the fact that I live in deliberate assurance that I am in God’s care!

A life lived in trust in God does look different. There is a steadiness to it, an unshakeable character that breeds confidence, peace, and endurance through the thickest and thinnest of life’s days. It shapes reactions, choices, words, and thoughts. The look of trust is the look that I pray will mark my features as a wife and mother.

To thee, O Lord, I lift up my soul. O my God, in thee I trust, let me not be put to shame. (Psalm 25:1-2a)
 
Vindicate me, O Lord, for I have walked in my integrity, and I have trusted in the Lord without wavering. (Psalm 26:1)
 
The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid? (Psalm 27:1)
Gratitude, Scripture

In Everything, Give Thanks

Carrie Sue Barnes

Early evening sunbeams pouring through the clouds, landing on the lush green tree tops and full corn fields. It’s a scene I’ve seen a thousand times through the car window, a photo I’ve taken at least a dozen times. Why does it still take my breath away? Why does it not yet seem “generic,” as one person called it? I can only call it grace. I can only attribute it to the Lord forming my eyes and heart over time to see the uniqueness of that particular view. He knew before I was formed that I would be a person benefitted by appreciating such scenes. He knew I would need to be built up by glimpses of beauty on ordinary days.

Last week I began reading One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp, and this week I became a copycat. Immediately moved by the author’s dawning realization of the value of giving thanks, day in and day out, I chose to take the dare she laid out on the pages. I am writing down in a small notebook the moments that produce thanksgiving. What I quickly understood is that I tend to reserve my offerings of thanks to the times when I come to pray – on the occasional mornings when I take a few minutes to pray and read Scripture, in the evenings as I lay in bed at the close of another day, and especially at Mass, my knees on the kneeler, my forehead resting on my folded fingers. The challenge I am taking up is to give thanks all day long… to maintain a riveted awareness of all there is to be thankful for in my life.

For the first time ever I feel like maybe what St. Paul describes could actually be possible: “Rejoice always; pray without ceasing; in everything <sup class="crossreference" value="(AL)”> give thanks; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus (1 Thessalonians 5:16-18),” I’ve been able to explain all I want what those verses mean but I can’t claim to have had success at living them. Setting my standard at “pray daily,” I measure myself in a lesser manner. But as St. Francis de Sales pointed out, “You learn to speak by speaking, to study by studying, to run by running, to work by working; and just so, you learn to love by loving. All those who think to learn in any other way deceive themselves.” And so, we learn to pray without ceasing by praying without ceasing. We learn to give thanks in everything by giving thanks in everything.

If God allows me to see/hear/touch/encounter something beautiful, something meaningful, something joy-giving, something that makes me smile or laugh or sigh happily, then He has given me reason to give thanks. If in an experience of difficulty or negativity, He keeps my perspective in check, or causes me to exercise compassion, understanding, or patience, then He has given me reason to give thanks. Perhaps eventually I’ll be able to see that God never isn’t allowing those things to happen, only I didn’t always recognize or accept them.

Ribbons on gifts
Dark red raspberries bobbing in a carafe of cotton candy pink lemonade
The softness of warm kisses
Cold orange juice
Waves from the neighbors as I leave for work
The scratch of pen on paper
Baby pictures on coworkers’ desks
Morning thunder
Patience in traffic

Thankfulness gives rise to joy. Do we not all crave a greater well of joy in our lives?

Scripture

Unexamined Life

Carrie Sue Barnes

Most have heard that age old Socrates quote, “An unexamined life is not worth living.” For many months now I have lived that unexamined life. Caught up in the whirlwind of discovering love and now planning a wedding, I inadvertently slipped into a new mode of operation. The reflection and contemplation that characterized my previous days was discarded in a subconcious assurance that I’d reached what I’d been aiming for with all that internal effort. It felt as though now I was in the era of action, rather than thought. That I’d built up toward all this and now I could simply do it. Reflection seemed the proper accompaniment to waiting. I was done waiting. Sadly, I now realize I was also done reflecting. It has produced havoc, this forsaking of examination. Damage. Each struggle I’m facing right now – in my heart with God, in my relationship with my fiance, in so much more – no matter which path of excuses I take it inevitably rounds a bend to reach this truth.

So what now? The contemplative version of myself seems but a distant acquaintance, one that cannot be brought back to intimacy in a mere moment. Yet I can take a step toward her. Right now. And in the next hour. And in the next morning. And in the next night. That first step to regain her presence took me to the Scriptures, thankfully.

I found myself in 1 Corinthians 13. Talk about age old statements, right? Love is patient and kind… not jealous or rude or arrogant or insisting on its own way. Hits me in the gut as I recall it again. St. Paul was naming off what I’d become in certain aspects of my love relationships! A point by point list of how I’d chosen to be in my words, actions and thoughts.

Then, by the Holy Spirit’s help, I stumbled upon this devotional blog post: http://www.proverbs31.org/devotions/choice-points-2012-08/. That Holy Spirit, He knows what He’s doing. The author presents a perspective on “choice points,” those moment by moment choices we make that seem insignificant but in reality affect our lives and those in our lives to a great degree. I have a serious tendency to focus everywhere but the moment I’m currently dwelling inside and so lack awareness of the immediate effects wrought by my words and actions. This choice points lens has the potential to change my daily vision.

As it has in the past I’ve no doubt that this blog of mine can be useful in the quest for reflection and awareness. I don’t know if I have any readers left, absent as I’ve been. If I do though, I thank you and I welcome your input.

Holiness, Love, Scripture

Bear With One Another

Carrie Sue Barnes

(Originally written for “The Bells of St. Mary’s” parish newsletter)

I’m on break at work and it’s been one of those days: computer issues rendering me incapable of completing my task list, miscommunications and lack of responsibility by individuals, and a vague awareness that I need a vacation. It’s all adding up to a mood in which I’m simply trying not to ruin other people’s days. Now I’m sitting down to write about forbearance. The humor is not lost on me.

Forbearance. The word almost sounds foreign. Certainly not one that rolls off the tongue in everday conversation. It is a word hearkening back to the antique language of the Bible, before revisionists tried to modernize the verses of Scripture. But what is it? Merely a synonym for patience? When St. Paul instructs us to bear with one another (Colossians 3:13), is it a matter of just putting up with people as they are? Or is it a virtue that integrates several virtues at once?
Patience, compassion, mercy, understanding, humility, forgiveness – each is in play when forbearance is practiced. And why do we forbear? Ultimately? Because God does. Because “while we were still sinners Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8).

We forbear because the Father did not wait for us to understand His plans before He sent His only begotten Son. Christ did not wait for people to believe in Him before performing miracles, or for folks to humble themselves before setting a holy example of service. And He did not wait for us to stop sinning before pouring His life out on the Cross. When we consider the Lord ‘s mercy, we should “consider the patience of our Lord as salvation” (2 Peter 3:15).

The family member who can’t shake an addiction, or who has an unbroken pattern of selfishness; the friend who clings to self-pity and grudges, or is too proud to admit a mistake; the coworker who gets under your skin; the spouse with the habit you wish could be eradicated; the child who just can’t correctly do what you’ve shown him how to do a hundred times. They all need your forbearance.

One who forbears looks upon another’s struggle, suffering or shortcoming and, as he does so, humbly acknowledges his own of the same. Forbearance manifests itself in enduring, determined patience. It is the antithesis of provocation. Where you could react in loud anger, you choose mildness and calm, firm words. Instead of giving up hope, you ask the Holy Spirit to show you how to help. Rather than dismissing the troubles weighing on another’s mind, you listen and seek to understand. Forgiveness is chosen over resentment. Intercession is offered up instead of condemnation.

Look on everyone with the eyes of your Heavenly Father, from the briefest encounter with a stranger to the most intimate relationships in your life. The Father’s eyes see each of us as we truly are, with every success and failure, strength and weakness, act of love and act of fear, virtue and vice. Through those eyes, we can love, and because we love, we can forbear.