The Ladybug Filing Cabinet

“Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest.”

To say we live in times of confusion is putting it mildly. Seems like everything from gender roles to foreign policy is under scrutiny and comment. It’s tiring sorting through all the conflicting opinions — especially when searching for the right way to do something.

My Bible’s footnotes say this verse refers to those people laboring under the laws imposed by the priesthood of the time. Because of these rules, people were trying desperately to live up to a near-impossible standard of perfection, one that didn’t match what God had in mind when He set out his covenant with people.

How many times do we do the same thing? We allow ourselves to be ruled by the way we see ourselves, which is in part formed by how others say they perceive us. We strive to fulfill people’s expectations, to make ourselves over into the way they see us — to be all things to all people. In the end, we become fragmented personalities, a hollow shell without any substance.

Jesus offers us an alternative from all this confusion — rest from trying to live up to the way others see us. So take a deep breath, and relax. Only one opinion really matters, that of our Father in heaven, who loves us, and will keep his eye on us, until we emerge victorious.

“Wash away all my guilt; from my sin cleanse me…”

It was a given that once my playmates and I were let loose on the neighborhood, we would return to our respective homes well-pleased with ourselves — and sometimes covered in dirt and mud. We’d enter the house via the back door — no way could we walk in through the front door!

“Bath. Now. This instant!” would be every mother’s exasperated cry, and not until after a good long shower and lots of soap would we be pronounced fit for polite society.

Sin is like that. It can make you feel good, but it also covers you in spiritual dirt. Guilt, pain, low self-esteem, and a host of other things that stick, no matter how you try to get rid of them. Drugs and alcohol, power-tripping and money were never meant to be cleansing agents, after all.

When we’ve sinned, we know in our hearts that we can’t march through heaven’s doors to be in the Father’s presence. It’s then that God tells us, “Reconciliation. Now. This instant!”. Scraping up the humility and courage to admit our wrongs out loud to another person, opens the door to an outpouring of grace and mercy more cleansing than any soap ever invented. In carrying out the assigned penance (and taking positive action against those we’ve wronged), we step away from damaging life-patterns and prepare to take our place as members of the Body of Christ.

Isn’t it time you experienced that fresh clean feeling of a spiritual bath in God’s love? Then listen to that small voice saying, “The confessional is over there. Go. Now. This instant!”

“If the world hates you, realize that it hated me first.”

There are days when being a Christian can feel like the loneliest, most thankless job going. Days when you open the newspapers and read about the clergy being involved in scandal. When you see people being ridiculed for expressing their belief in God. When you hear people giving up on their faith as being impractical for these modern times.

Sometimes, it just gets to you, all these negatives, and your heart grows tired of carrying the banner for Jesus. When it feels as though your convictions are a millstone around your neck. When you start asking, “Lord, tell me again, why am I doing this? Why am I even trying?”

Today’s Gospel tells us why — because when we made that choice to follow Jesus’ footsteps, we turned our backs on the world and all its temptations to power, wealth, and earthly glory. The world didn’t understand it when Jesus explained a love so all-consuming that everything else pales in comparison — and the world still doesn’t “get it”. So it strikes back at you the way it struck back at the Master; with mockery, and temptations to abandon one’s faith.

Don’t be discouraged if you feel blue about being a Christian. Jesus had his time of anguish the night before He was called to die for a sinful humanity. He accepted His cup, and so did we. We’re following in our Lord’s footsteps, right up to the moment when the Father raises us up in glory.

“‘My father,’ they said, ‘if the prophet had told you to do something extraordinary, would you not have done it?’”

Naaman had obviously been expecting a big production number surrounding his healing from leprosy. After all, Elijah had a huge reputation as a prophet in Israel — maybe Naaman felt he deserved a dramatic healing, being a man of some importance back home in Aram. Instead, he’s told to go take a dip seven times in the Jordan River. (Didn’t even have to swim!) Talk about your deflated egos.

Fortunately Naaman’s servants were willing to risk his displeasure while making their point; and even better, Naaman actually listened to them. In fact, God probably used those servants as His instruments in making the miracle happen.

All of us get hit by “the Naaman syndrome” every so often. Coming to God in prayer and pointing out all the reasons why we deserve signs and wonders as part of the answer. So that when God keeps showing us the simple solution to our problems, we pout and say, “Is that all? It can’t be that easy!” and we get all grumpy with our prayer partners over the whole thing.

When people you have asked to pray for you start giving you the same answer as God’s instructions — remember Naaman’s servants. Sometimes it’s the simple things that are the hardest to accomplish faithfully, day in and day out, until God’s timing comes to pass.

Rejoice and leap for joy on that day! Behold, your reward will be great in heaven…

Someone once referred to The Beatitudes as the “be-attitudes” — the way we should look at life when the world describes us as poor, hungry, weeping, and persecuted. Certainly, as Christians, our way in the world is not always an easy one (not that Jesus ever said it would be, but that’s another story). Choosing between Christian principles and worldly standards often makes us look like we’ve been short-changed, and being human, it’s difficult to swallow tears in the face of ridicule. Or when material blessing seems to pour on others without their seeming to exercise any effort at all.

On the other hand, Jesus makes it clear that the reward that matters most isn’t waiting for us here on earth. We’re here to carry out whatever God has planned for us — and then at the end of our lives, to rejoin our Father in Heaven. If God so desires, our labors in his field will be amply rewarded in material ways (we do need food and clothes and money to pay the bills, after all); but we should look beyond our material possessions and standing in community. As the saying goes, the buck doesn’t stop there.

Jesus’ declaration to “rejoice and leap for joy” in the face of hardship isn’t as far-out as it seems. It’s a reminder to all of us that the world knows we don’t belong here, but to a Kingdom of love and light whose current residents were treated in exactly the same way as you are now.

“Moved with pity, he stretched out his hand, touched him, and said to him, “I do will it. Be made clean.”

Indeed, there was much to pity for one whose affliction had made him an outcast. Unable to touch or be touched, lest he make others unclean, thereby separating them from the blessing of fellowship. Have you ever felt what it was like to want a hug and not have anyone around to give it to you? Now try and imagine the daily yearning for human contact, while living on the edges of a community.

In stretching out his hand to the leper, he was opening himself not just to the same ostracism as the afflicted man, but willingness to accept this person just as he stood. To actually touch the man was a mind-boggling concept; but Jesus understood the power of this gesture of affirmation.

It is easy to pity the marginalized of society. But as social agencies know, few are those who are willing to go beyond mere feeling and stretch out their hands to provide assistance. Fewer still are those who are willing to touch lives with their actual presence — thus allowing their own lives to be touched in return.

We can be Jesus to others. All it takes is an outstretched hand and a heart that echoes the words, “I do will it. Be made clean.” Then watch as God works the miracle of restoring a broken human to his birthright as His precious child.

So do not be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.

As I write this reflection, the world is caught in the grip of suspense and fear over the possible outbreak of war. Worries over biological warfare, the influence of hostile forces, the moral issues involved in pursuing armed conflict — such is the climate that breeds fear over what the future holds. Courage in the face of the unknown is a difficult commodity to come by these days.

It’s easy to feel like a nameless, faceless entity in the face of global crises — that anything we do is just a drop in the bucket. But that’s if you go by the world’s vision of things. We don’t have to fear being swept up by the fears of the crowd — because our Father in heaven knows us, right down to the number of hairs on our heads.

After listening to Jesus’ words in today’s Gospel, one can only imagine the thoughts running through the disciples’ heads. These twelve men were simple people, chosen out of the crowds to carry on a mission that already had them pushed to the fringes of the “polite society” of their day — with the promise of more persecution in their as yet unknown future.

Talk about needing courage under fire. How will they do it? Jesus gives them the powerful reassurance of what they are worth in the Father’s eyes; if the least of God’s creatures is worthy of His attention, what more His children, cast in his image and likeness?

“…Seven times he said, ‘Go look again!’”

“Hon, I can’t find it!” my husband’s plaintive voice calls from the bedroom, where he has become disoriented after one of my marathon cleaning sessions.

“Go look again, hon, it’s there…” I repeat patiently, while rolling my eyes to heaven and muttering a quick prayer to do with “…opening eyes…”

Before long, I hear him call out “Thanks!”, and smile to myself.

Walking in faith can be like that. One minute, your world is ordered just the way you want it, the next minute, something comes along and turns it topsy-turvy. Suddenly you’re asking God, “What happened? Where do I go to find You? Lord, I don’t see anything!”

It would be so easy for God to reveal the answers with all the drama of a sudden storm. But that’s not the way it goes. I’m sure Elijah’s servant learned a whole lot about patience and perseverance those seven times he was sent back to the top of Carmel to check the horizon.

In the same way, God sends me back along the familiar path, over and over, until I finally see the light. Along the way, I learn new things about His plan for my life; gifts of revelation I might not have received without God’s nudging to give a familiar road a yet another look through renewed vision.

Bless the Lord, my soul; do not forget all the gifts of God…

It was a day when I woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Short on sleep means short on temper for me, and it was a real challenge to slam the door on all sorts of uncharitable thoughts. Oh, the pity party that wanted to get started in my brain!

By nightfall, I was a simmering pot of negativity, and not very proud of myself. Watch me go from wanting to whack other people, to kicking myself up the backside for being such a crab.

Then, over dinner, Mama decided to give her “everything is a gift from God” spiel for the umpteenth time. I was about to tune out, when it hit me : yes, my parents can be repetitive to the point of tears — but I still have them, senior citizens as they are. Yes, my husband may be a slow-starter — but he is calm in crisis, a shoulder to lean on. So maybe I don’t have all the latest computer bells and whistles — but I have the computer!

The list grew as I went back over each moment of the day, seeing them as the gifts from God instead of petty annoyances. Slowly my attitude righted itself as my spiritual compass returned to its proper focus, and I began to bless the Lord from a thankful heart.

But I told you that although you have seen [me], you do not believe.

“To see is to believe.” That’s what people have said since St. Thomas declared he would not believe Christ had risen until he had the evidence of his eyes to prove it so. Yet today, Jesus tells those following him that in spite of all the sensory evidence they have had up to that point, their hearts refuse to take that leap of faith into recognizing the Messiah before them.

Was it because their minds were so fixed on a particular concept of a messiah that they kept asking for sign after sign (and disbelieving every time)? Was it because they were hoping so hard that this, finally, was the promised Savior that they were now afraid to believe, just in case they were proven wrong? Was it because they had lost all hope in the possibility of a Savior, so that in spite of the evidence, they chose to reject the conclusions their minds were making?

A healthy dose of skepticism is part of being human — it keeps us from getting involved in things that are bad for us. Jesus warns us against false prophets, St. Paul advises us to “test the spirits”. But beware of using the need for more proof as a reason for staying frozen in one place!

It is through our previous knowledge of God’s wondrous ways that we are able to push ourselves over the edge. It is our knowledge of his love that allows us to believe that He will catch us when we get to the other side.

“Blessed are those who have not seen, and still believe!”