How exciting!  I just found out that I am going on a one year trip to Europe tomorrow!!  I guess I should think about what I’m going to do there but…. nah, it can wait.  What’s on TV?

Now if you are thinking that I have completely lost my mind; you would be right.  Leaving tomorrow for Europe and – I’m not even thinking about it?  Gonna be gone for a year and – I’m not gonna begin getting ready?

But isn’t that how 99.9% of us seem to live our lives?  This life – if long and well lived – may last us, oh, say 90 years?  Wouldn’t that be considered a good, long life?  Ok, let’s go for the record – how about 120 years?  Add another 10 just for bragging rights – okay, you’ve got 130 years.  Now compare that with eternity – as in forever, and ever, and ever, and ever, and ever, and ever, and ever, and ever, and ever, and ever, and ever, and ever, and ever, and ever, and… you get the picture.

That 130 ain’t looking so long anymore, is it?  Ok.  NOW; how much time are you spending preparing for that eternity – and how much time are you focusing on the 130?

I know people who can spout off practically every sport statistic you could image about their favorite team.  Let me tell you; that takes real time, effort and dedication.  Watching the sports channel, listening to sports radio, reading the sports news, talking with friends about sports – unlimited time!  All going toward that 130.  Zero preparation for the forever, and ever, and ever, and – you get the point.

Substitute practically any passion, expertise, knowledge, etc. that someone has in this world concerning something IN this world – and you have the same scenario.  People are able to take time to prepare for the forever, and ever, and ever, and…  But they choose not to.

What’s on TV?

This would be me standing at customs going into Europe.  ”Well Officer, I guess I meant to get a passport and visa but… there was a REALLY good show on TV that I just couldn’t miss – so how bout’ cha just overlook this one time, okay?”

How likely will a Customs Official be to overlook my apparent non-effort to prepare to enter his country – in other words – my disrespect of His nation’s rules, laws and procedures?  Now throw my excuses in there of just being way too busy with my own stuff to bother – think that’s gonna be the big convincer?

Why do we treat God as less important than a Customs Official?  Since the dawn of creation, God has sent us His very own word – written down in our own language for heaven’s sake – outlining every one of HIS kingdom’s rules, laws and procedures.  How many of us spend as much time pouring over, and memorizing, that – as we do sports team stats, best shopping spots, brands of coffee, hottest tech tools, etc., etc.?  NOW the excuses will have to get more complicated; like, “Uh, sorry God, I couldn’t read.”

Then add to that, He sends the sacrifice of the Mass where, every day in every Catholic church around the globe, a priest brings the very body and blood of His Son Jesus back to life to give incredible power and grace to every one who just shows up.  Now it’s “Uh, sorry God, I couldn’t read AND I couldn’t walk.”

And of course, in this day and age, there is actually Christian radio where, you can get information about Him and that kingdom, 24/7.  ”Uh, sorry God, I couldn’t read AND I couldn’t walk AND I couldn’t hear!”  Then add in the fact that, with a simple request, you can get a Priest or member of the Church to bring Jesus Christ’s very body present in the Eucharist to you at your own home, if you are housebound…  ”Uh, sorry God, I couldn’t read AND I couldn’t walk AND I couldn’t hear AND I had no doorbell.”

And of course, if you actually DO have none of those things available to study to learn about the kingdom of God where you hope to be for ever, and ever, and ever, and ever, and… – all you need do is step outside.  “The heavens declare the Glory of God, the sky proclaims His handiwork.  One day to the next conveys that message, one night to the next imparts that knowledge.” Psalm 19: 1-3  Does a beautiful sky make you search for more knowledge about our great God?  Does a flower bud opening to its beauty make you yearn to know how that reflects God’s?  God’s fingerprints are on absolutely everything He made – sky and sea, mountain and valley, animal and…. you.  Get to know more about Him, now – while you still have the chance.  Otherwise, you may find yourself saying:

“Um, God, I’m sorry, but I just never got around to learning anything about You, Your kingdom and how You wanted me to live on earth so as to be ready to enter here, BUT –  I can dazzle you with all the sports statistics I know!!”

Think that European Customs Official would buy that one?  Now, for the scariest thought of all, Think God will?

The Healing of the Centurion’s Servant, Matthew 8:5-13, is reflected every day when we say at Mass “Lord, I am not worthy to have you enter under my roof, but only say the word and my soul (my servant) shall be healed.”  But today I noticed something else; I noticed that we can never tell who also believes.

The Centurion is a Gentile, and a Roman Military Officer at that.  No one would have probably assumed that he believed in Jesus.  If anything, most would have assumed that he did not.  And yet, here he is, stepping forward in plain daylight and calling Jesus “Lord.”

Then again, looking at the fruits of this man’s daily life, you could probably guess where his heart lay – he comes to Jesus not for himself but for his servant, who is “suffering dreadfully.”  He is apparently so concerned for a servant that he goes and, laying down his pride, asks an itinerant preacher for help.

It makes me wonder – how many today are really for Jesus – but are also living lives of quiet belief?  Sometimes we can feel like we are all alone, or at least completely outnumbered, when we watch the news or read the papers.  I think that’s when we need to remember what happened between God and Elijah in 1 Kings 19.  Elijah was fleeing Jezebel as the story unfolds:

“There he came to a cave, where he took shelter. But the word of the LORD came to him: “Why are you here, Elijah?”  He answered: “I have been most zealous for the LORD, the God of hosts, but the Israelites have forsaken your covenant. They have destroyed your altars and murdered your prophets by the sword. I alone remain, and they seek to take my life.””……. 1 Kings 19:14

The Lord then revealed Himself to Elijah.  He was not in the wind, the earthquake or the fire.  Instead, He was in the “still, small voice.”  The Lord told Elijah to fight on, letting him know that:  “Yet I have left myself seven thousand in Israel, all the knees that have not bowed unto Baal, and every mouth that hath not kissed him.” 1 Kings 19:18

So perhaps we should not concern ourselves so much with the very vocal crowds that surround and condemn.  The day may come, and soon, when the Lord may, as in 2 Kings 6:17, open our eyes and let us see that we are surrounded by those who will fight for Him with us.  Let us therefore take the words of Elisha to heart:

“Don’t be afraid; for those who are with us are more than those who are with them.”

Instead of listening to the roar of those who hate; let us strive to listen for the ‘still, small voice’ of those who believe… quietly.

I think it was the most he had ever written to me in his entire life!  I had asked my son if he was willing to have a part in my latest endeavor to help a family member.  It was not a large part, but it was a part nonetheless – could he pick up his 12 year old cousin and drive her to our home for a visit – and for a respite from the craziness that is her home?  He, after all, would be driving right past their town on his way back home; I thought he’d welcome the chance to catch up with his cousin again.

I was unprepared for his response.

I didn’t know he had that much passion inside of him about this issue!  And how could anyone text it all out that quickly?!!  But ‘text it out’ he did – he made an impassioned plea for me to just ‘forget about those people!’  Better yet, he suggested, I should first send an email telling them (all the adults involved) how much their actions have embarrassed me, and how much they have ruined our family name.  He suggested, forcefully, that I tell them that I am cutting all ties with them until they ‘grow up’.  Tell them that when that happens, they can try to contact me again and I might finally decide to talk to them.

Well; I’m sure that email would go over just fine….

But perhaps I should explain.  I have escaped from a birth family that lives in denial.  In my last blog, I mentioned that the main goal of my parents was to ‘look perfect’.  Well, if you admit imperfection in any way, then I guess you might as well give up on the ‘perfection’ award.

Hence WE. DO. NOT. ADMIT. IMPERFECTION!

Not even when there is abuse; not even when there is neglect; not even when there is addiction; not even when the police are standing at the front door – with the handcuffs…

You can only deny for so long – usually long enough for the children raised in that denial to begin to act it out in their adult lives.  The ways it gets acted out become harder and harder to deny.

Hence my attempt to stop it in this generation; and to try to save the next.

But my son’s words, somewhat crudely put, left me thinking.  He grew up watching this family.  They were, after all, his grandparents, aunts and uncles.  We had moved our family away from the start – I left at college and didn’t go back.  I was not the one doing the denying.  As a young Navy wife, we traveled among other people, in more faith filled parts of the country.  I began to see how actual Christians lived.  Their lives, although not perfect, were so much more normal, and were filled with so much love, truth; and forgiveness.  Over the next few years, I began to practice my faith like I actually believed it.  Our children were raised in that belief.  Hence, we became different.

When we moved back among family that difference began to show.  I’d like to say that they saw the difference and were immediately converted.  Instead, let me say that it was not exactly embraced by them.  Family get-togethers became instances of great fun during which my four siblings, their spouses and their friends, would have a heyday ridiculing the Catholic faith.  They were always so surprised when I would then ‘leave early’.  My parents, still maintaining that ‘perfect family’ delusion, said nothing.  My husband and I finally moved away when the toll on our children of living among people who truly hate Christianity – and take great joy in attacking Christians – became too much.

My family reached out again a year ago; after the addictions, the arrests and the suicide attempts became too much to handle.  Jesus says to look at the fruits of something to discern if the root is good, or evil.  My family of course still won’t admit it, but their root of faith in secular humanism, ‘tolerance’ and man made ‘perfection’ is not exactly producing good fruit.

So what do you do?  What do you do with people who want your stability, your joy, your love, your strength – but don’t want your faith?  When it is the faith that gives you all of it; it seems somewhat pointless to try to give them the fruits without the root.  Oh, they entertain the idea when they are lying in the gutter, but once you help them back on their feet – they forget real fast.

So what are the duties of Love?

My son would argue that, when you have given as much as I have already – there are no duties left – not even to innocent children living among the nightmare.  That does make sense – until I think of Jesus.  What were the limits of HIS love?  Could they not be found on a bloody cross – with a jeering mob beneath?

But my son could then point to the countless disciples whom Jesus let walk away when his ‘I am the bread of life’ sermon got a little too hard.  Or the rich young man who walked away when told to give all he had to the poor and, then, go follow Jesus.  Jesus let him go, even though he ‘loved him.’  He didn’t run after any of them, he didn’t water down His message to be more ‘tolerant’ of ‘diversity’.

So what are the duties of Love?  When is it your duty to go to the cross?  When is it your duty to walk away?

Well, if we are to imitate Christ, then I think we may find an answer.  Richard Wurmbrand was the Founder of The Voice of the Martyrs after fleeing Romania in the mid 60’s.  A Pastor who stood up to the Communist suppression of churches, he spent much of his adult life in a communist prison.  He writes in his book Tortured for Christ about a Russian soldier named Piotr (Peter) who converted to Christianity during that time.  After his baptism, Richard asked Piotr what had drawn him to the faith.  His answer?

Politeness.

Piotr told Richard that he had listened to one of their secret meetings when Luke 24, the story of Jesus on the road to Emmaus, was read.  Piotr was confused when Jesus did not stop with the disciples for dinner when they reached Emmaus, and instead indicated that he would have gone further.  Piotr explained, “I wondered why Jesus said this. He surely wanted to stay with His disciples.  Why then did He say that He wished to go further?”  Richard’s explanation was that “Jesus is polite.  He wished to be very sure that He was desired.  When He saw that He was welcomed, He gladly entered the house with them.  The Communists are impolite.  They enter by violence into our hearts and minds.  They force us to listen to them from morning to late in the night.  They do it through their schools, radio, newspapers, posters, movies, atheistic meetings, and everywhere we turn.  We have to listen continuously to their godless propaganda whether we like it or not.  Jesus respects our freedom.  He gently knocks at the door of our heart.”

To Piotr, it was simple, “Jesus has won me by His politeness.”

And so perhaps that is the key to the question: what are the duties of Love?  Perhaps it is the duty to hold out compassion and hope – and even help on occasion – politely.  We then must give it to God, and wait patiently for an answer.

Sometimes the answer will be yes; sometimes the answer will be no; and sometimes there will be no answer.  If yes, we can act as God leads us; if no and/or silence – then there’s just not much we can do.  Besides pray.

And, of course, that’s the most powerful Duty of Love there is.

She caught my eye right away; dressed as she was in scarlet.  Her arms were cutely attached to her sides with 1800’s looking thread, and her shaker style hair and clothing spoke to a simple plainness missing these days.  Her wings were discretely tucked behind her and painted a soft color to mimic the inside of an oyster shell.  Perfect.  But I instantly chose the smaller, tan version – assuming that would cost less.  Gulp – $16.99.  Not something I was ready to part with for just a small tabletop statute.  As an afterthought, I picked up the scarlet one to see how much more she cost.  $12.99.

Huh?

At first I couldn’t figure it out – why was the larger one less?  And then I saw it.  She was marred.  The side of her bodice was discolored, paint missing; and her hair had white splotches on one side.  She had what looked like an ink dot above her eyebrow and a slightly misshapen hand.  And so she was… marked down.  Not perfect; she was valued less by those who made the rules.

And now I knew I HAD to buy her.  In my eyes, she was worth more.  Marred, beaten up by life, she was still just plain beautiful.

My marred angel statute has me thinking today.  What is ‘beauty’?  I guess if it is ‘in the eyes of the beholder’ then it could be many things.  My mother thought only perfection was beauty.  I suspect this was due to an abusive father whose own insecurity detested imperfection.  This could easily lead one to fear being imperfect; and indeed having anything imperfect in their lives.  I’ll never forget the coffee table.  The dog chewed two edges off and my mom spent a fortune sending it out, having new wood seamlessly affixed and wondrously woven in so that NO ONE would know.  Of course the dog, who was not paying the bills, chewed them right back off again.  So much for perfection control.

I will always remember when I first learned that imperfection is really beauty.  As a young Navy wife, I visited another young Navy wife.  She and her husband were both very strong Christians who came from very strong Christian families.  They read the bible and knew it inside and out.  It seemed they had different values for things.  She had a full dining room set, inherited from her husband’s grandmother.  Since none of us young wives had much of anything besides Goodwill purchases, I commented on the beauty of it.  “Oh,” she said, “that’s not the best part!”  She then proceeded to walk all around the table, pointing to every scratch, every gouge, every nick and every chip.  As she did so, she told the story of how each and every one came about – a Thanksgiving meal here, a boy scout project there.  Each imperfection was nothing but another memory of their lives; nothing but another celebration of the messiness of it.  Together, the imperfections told the story of a family living and growing, learning and doing, messing up and cleaning up, laughing and loving.  It was the first glimpse I had into life in a truly Christian family – one where people, and not things, are valued.  And one where imperfection is really a way to beautiful.

I think I’ve always known it should be that way.

Even as a young teen, I loathed ‘perfection’.  When my dad rose up in society and got a job, and pay, that raised our social status – the old furniture went out and in came the new.  Stuffy new dining room chairs arrived – chairs too perfect to allow even the least amount of ‘mess’ that might fall on them.  Suddenly, even eating became something that had to be done ‘perfectly.’  Stubbornly, I dragged my old chair into the dining room each night to sit on it in silent protest – till Mom just plain lost it and ordered it out!

But isn’t imperfection just another way of saying that someone was there?   Isn’t it another way of saying that sometimes life hurts – but then again, maybe that’s how we know it is real?

And as I write this, I realize something – perfection usually masks such… imperfection.  I grew up in a ‘perfect’ home and it was all so… imperfect.  When you suffer imperfection in secret; it has a way of scarring.  But accepting imperfection as a fact of life, and moving on to try to make it through together, has a way of healing – like my Navy friend’s stories show.

We live in a ‘perfect’ culture today – gone are the crooked teeth that were a normal part of life.  People did not fix perfectly fine teeth just so they would look good.  How silly was that?  Grey hair signaled a person you could go to for advice – cause surely they would know – and not someone who needed to be ‘put out to pasture’ so they wouldn’t bother us young, beautiful, perfect people.  Families were large, loud and full of ‘drama’.  But if someone was picking on you – it sure did help to have 4 big brothers show up with clenched fists…

Today, every child has perfectly arranged teeth; with parents working endless hours away from home to pay for them and all the other ‘necessities’ of perfection.  It is rare to see a grey haired person in each home caring for those orphaned children whose parents work constantly.  Grandmas and Grandpas have tanned, lean bodies with highlighted hair – honed from endless hours on the golf course hitting a small white ball into endless holes, while their grandchildren are raised by endless numbers of total strangers.  But not a problem, since each family is limited to the ‘perfect’ size of 2.1 children – orphaned at birth with parents who parent a couple hours a day – and not even a crowd of older siblings to turn to for help.

Yet today, in our ‘perfect’ families, there is very little that is actually perfect.  As a public school teacher of those 2.1 children, I can tell you that the children are not the only things that are limited in today’s family – so is the love.  It is doled out in perfect measures of ‘quality’, not ‘quantity’; and ‘success’, not ‘failure’.  2.1 children have never felt more driven, more prodded, more ignored, more abandoned, more desperate – but gosh, we sure have our perfect families here in America!

And so I am leery of perfection.  It has always made me nervous – like a tall glass of tea balancing right next to the computer just waiting to – splash – ruin the hard drive.  Give me imperfect any day.  At least then you know what you got.  At least then, you know you have actually lived.

We are told that America is a ‘Christian’ nation.  I wonder, however, whether it is made up of Christians who know anything about Christ?  Somewhere along the line, Christianity seemed to go from sinners being healed by Christ – to ignorance being healed by education and plain old hard work.  Who needs Christ when they can just become perfect themselves?  Gone are the days when imperfection was something to be boasted of – when made so very perfect in Christ.  Now that imperfection is code for ‘not working hard enough’; nobody fesses up to nuthin.

But I’ve always thought that if you want to know someone, look at what they do.  Well a big “Do”, when talking about God, is the world.  He has put His handprints all over it; and when I see His imprint in the natural world – everywhere I look, I see nature made beautiful by…. Imperfection.  Take the Grand Canyon.  What is it; other than weak soil eroded away cause it was just too wimpy to hold.  Life (the unrelenting river) came along and it yielded – it was simply not strong enough.  Now if my house had been sitting on that soil, I would not have called it ‘the greatest wonder in the world’; I would have called it ‘an insurance nightmare’.  Nonetheless, God (and we) now call it … beautiful.

Ever see a forest in the spring after a devastating fire?  Black charred trees stand next to the most prolific profusion of greenery sprouting from the enriched soil – then has ever been seen.  Spectacularly beautiful!

What of childbirth?  Could anybody call it the ‘perfect’ way to bring a baby into the world?  Once you’ve been through it; the stork story is starting to look pretty darn good.  Strong women slowly – as the days, weeks and months go by – become weaker, more uncomfortable, more… well just LOOK at them!   Does that fit any definition of ‘perfect’ today??!!   Then they go through the worst pain of all, the messiest mess of all and the end result is … the beauty of new life.  And is that new life perfect?  Pointed heads, wrinkled skin, is that hair on his/her face??!!  But no one looks at that – all they see is their beautiful new child.

I think, perhaps, God has been trying to tell us something.  His Son came and said the same thing – but perhaps we’ve forgotten.  There IS no perfection.  There is only imperfection, made perfect by, and through, Christ.  The more we accept that, and the more we accept life as it is and turn to Him to bring beauty from it – then the more beautiful we become.

And even if society chooses to ‘mark us down’ due to our imperfection, we at least can know that – in God’s lexicon – ‘imperfection’ is another word for ‘beauty’.  And if we simply give that ‘imperfection’ to Him, then yet another word we will hear is “My child”.  And that, my fellow travelers, IS perfection…