Technically I’m more in protest of NASA than AMP. You see, NASA SE didn’t open registration prior to the beginning of the year for this event like they do for all their other events. To their great credit they wanted to make sure the track was going to be open and they would be able to hold the event before taking money and then having to return it all when the event had to be cancelled because the track wasn’t open yet. Kudos to them for that. The first problem that I noticed was the decibel limit at the track. It’s stated to be 98db. For those of you not familiar with sound limits, 98db is not all that loud. By way of comparison, a subway train at 200 ft is listed as being 95db. Needless to say, there aren’t a whole lot of race cars that will fit under a 98db limit. Both of my cars are street legal, so this part really doesn’t affect me, but it will affect attendance. No sense driving to Atlanta on the off chance you might get sent home with no track time because your car is too loud.

The part that gets me is the cost for DE. The registration page shows it as being $459 for DE/TT. For comparison’s sake, Road Atlanta (with the same organizing body) is $389 and CMP is $279. VIR (which is handled by the Mid-Atlantic region) is the same price as Road Atlanta. From all reports I’ve heard, AMP doesn’t even have a paved paddock area yet. But according to this price structure it’s far and away better than Road Atlanta. Something doesn’t make sense here. Until this pricing structure changes, consider me in protest. I’d love to run this event, but I can’t justify the extra cost. Instead I’m going to take my money and do an event at VIR the previous weekend. Best of luck to NASA SE with this event. I doubt they’ll be going back.

One of the thoughts that occurred to me as I lay in bed fighting for sleep was “What if this is how it begins?” It being a persecution of Christians. So what if this is what the beginning of a persecution looks like? The pieces are already in place. You have the government passing legislation designed to put Catholic Social Services and hospitals out of business. Then they proceed to describe Catholic teaching as being a “war on women.” This starts dividing the Catholics against one another, making the group willing to stand up to such absurdity smaller and easier to target. Then you put forward legislation to define marriage as being between one man and one woman; an amendment which sparks a firestorm if passed and paves the way for the closure of churches that refuse to marry homosexuals if it passes. This amendment further divides the populace, setting groups at odds with one another so they will be even more unwilling to go to battle for them.

So now you have a Christian populace divided against itself and unwilling to stand up for one another. All you need now is a way to make certain practices of the Church illegal. Like, say, redefining freedom of religion as freedom of worship. It seems a small distinction, but one says you are free to practice your religion as you see fit where the other says you are only free to worship as you see fit and your faith can’t inform anything else in your life. It sounds preposterous, but it’s already been floated by the administration on a couple of different times. For some time now, I’ve had the sneaking suspicion that if our fearless leader gets re-elected in November I would end up in jail for my faith at some point during his next term. This issue seems to have ratcheted up that feeling. Again, it sounds like a ridiculous conspiracy theory, but at the same time we seem to be moving steadily in that direction.

Are you willing to go to prison for your faith?

Father of all holiness, guide our hearts to you. Keep in the light of your truth all those you have freed from the darkness of unbelief. We ask this through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

At some point, I may write my own superhero story. I’ve given it thought before but have never really gotten around to it. The more I think about it, though, the more I like the concept. As I said earlier, it’s easy to draw comparisons to Christian (specifically Catholic) theology using the genre of superheroes. Most superhero stories focus on one character. This individual is granted powers or abilities well above those of everyone else. This person then (I’m generalizing here) uses those abilities in a self-sacrificing way to protect the innocent against threats they cannot hope to fight on their own. Looking at the Bible, we see that Jesus was a man (and God, but that’s not germain here) that had powers beyond the comprehension of everyone else. He cured the blind and the lame and fought a battle against the devil against whom we cannot fight on our own. When we step back and allow Jesus to fight that battle for us, however, we cannot lose. God, in his infinite wisdom did not grant us this kind of power because He knew the fallen nature of Man. Were an individual granted such abilities in reality, it would take heroic virtue to use it in a way that is in keeping with the gospel. Such power would be a great temptation. It would lead that individual to rely on themselves for salvation instead of the power of God. They would be far more likely to become self-centered and seek glory for themselves instead of God. All of this would lead them farther and farther from God. While they may lead a “good” life according to the world, it would not be a Godly life – one that glorifies God for His greatness. In this way, I give Him thanks that he decided to make us dependent upon Him.

In your powerlessness, give thanks. Many times not getting what you want is the greater gift.

Father of our freedom and salvation, hear the prayers of those redeemed by your Son’s suffering. Through you may we have life; with you may we have eternal joy. We ask this through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

What if someone were to approach you, however, and say ” I know that when you mix yellow and blue you get green, but what about red? I really like red and I think that yellow and red should make green as well. Why should only yellow and blue get the privilege of making green? That’s just prejudiced against red.” It’s a preposterous argument isn’t it? There’s no way that red and yellow can ever make green, no matter how much someone wants it to be true. Even if this individual were to say “You just hate red. That’s why you don’t want yellow and red to make green. The latest poll shows that 75% of Americans agree that yellow and red should make green,” it wouldn’t make it so. The simple fact is that no amount of consensus or bullying will ever make yellow and red produce green.

Even were we to concede the issue and tell this sorely misguided individual “OK, since you truly believe that yellow and red make green, we’ll go along with you and call it green,” we would just be lying to make someone else feel better about their delusion. Additionally, you would have a lot of people outside of this conversation that were totally confused. Here you have someone with an orange shirt (for example), but they tell you it’s green because yellow and red make green now. Clearly the shirt is still orange, but now we are forced through societal pressures to tell everyone that the shirt is something that everyone can see it isn’t.

The colors in and of themselves aren’t really as important as the formula. Whenever you have a formula (like yellow + blue) and you change one part of the formula (like blue to red), the end result must change by its very definition. To say otherwise is simply to lie in order to save embarrassing someone who believes it. The end result is that you can’t say that yellow + red = green anymore than you can say 2 + 3 = 4 or man + man = marriage.

Almighty and ever-living God, give us new strength from the courage of Christ our shepherd, and lead us to join the saints in heaven, where he lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

I freely admit that I am a sinner and in great need of frequent confessions. All of us are sinners, and should rejoice at the opportunity to confess. It was not long ago that I was outside the Church and totally unaware of the grace and power that this sacrament provides. Virtually all of our separated Christian brethren go without being able to put their sins into words and hear those most welcome words of absolution. Even those that do not yet acknowledge the sacramental nature of confession should be able to recognize its value from a counseling perspective. Having someone to whom you can talk without any fear that they will pass on your deepest secrets is an enormous help. Just talking through your issues and having the other person give you advice on how to move past your sins is a grace filled experience. Those regular recipients of this sacrament can also testify to the healing power conferred by the words of absolution at the end. It’s as if a weight has been lifted from your shoulders. The certain knowledge that your sins have been forgiven can make it feel like you are just floating out of the confessional.

I went through just over 30 years not having access to this sacrament, and I suppose if I had not joined the Church I would never know what I was missing. Having experienced it, though, I regard it as probably the second most important sacrament in my life behind the Eucharist.  At this point in my life it boggles my mind that there are Catholics that don’t make frequent confessions. I recognize that there is fear involved in the sacrament. In many ways going to confession is a great act of humility, which can be difficult for some. Humility is always rewarded by God, though. God is also known to be eternally merciful, so there should be no fear of reprisal from God. I know these fears well because I feel them every time I go. They never go away, although you start to recognize them for what they are. Many times they are temptations from the devil who constantly tries to pull people away from the sacrament.

I mentioned that Reconciliation (or confession) was my second favorite sacrament behind the Eucharist. These two sacraments have a very special and intertwined relationship which I would like to speak about further, but will need scriptural references to do so. Perhaps I will post about that later this week. Until then, God bless.

God our Father, by raising Christ your Son, you conquered the power of death and opened for us the way to eternal life. Let our celebration today raise us up and renew our lives by the Spirit that is within us. Grant this through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

This weekend, however, wasn’t all that much fun. I had been fighting the car because it didn’t particularly want to start a majority of the time. It also would occasionally decide to cut of when coasting to a stop. Annoying, but that’s about it. I got to the track late Friday afternoon and wandered around for a while after running through tech just to talk to some of my friends. After chatting with them for a while, I headed back to the hotel. Track days start entirely too early for this night owl, so I had to get to bed. The next morning I woke up early (before my alarm went off) and headed back to the track. I went out in the first session and performed my usual recon. Typically I’ll use the first session to warm up my tires and the track and try to locate all the manned flag stands.

The second session started and I went out again, this time with the intent of pushing the car (and tires) a good bit harder. I got about halfway through the session when it felt like the car just wasn’t pulling as hard on the front straight as it had been previously. The next time through turn 3 I noticed that I was roughly 12 MPH slower at full throttle than I had been the last time around. Now I knew something was wrong. The oil pressure had been a bit low virtually the entire session, but I had checked the oil level before going out, so I knew it wasn’t lack of oil. When I pulled the car into the pit lane the engine died. I put the car in second gear and popped the clutch so I could make it back to my paddock spot. At this point I started hearing some pretty bad valve clatter. I coasted to a stop in my paddock spot and the engine temp started to spike. I shut down the engine and waited a few hours before doing anything else. Four hours later, the oil level still looked good and the coolant was still full.

I managed to get a fellow driver to tow the car back to Charlotte and Monday morning I woke up and called AAA to get it towed to a shop over in Liberty, NC. They called me later that afternoon to give me the bad news: a rod bearing had spun, breaking into pieces which then became shrapnel, effectively destroying the bottom end of the engine. It can be rebuilt, but the labor costs in a job like that are prohibitively high so that a new(ish) engine is actually cheaper. The worst part is that I had just bought that engine in November and had only used it for two weekends. The warranty on the engine was for 30 days from delivery which long ago expired. Given the relative rarity of 4AGZE engines in the US, I’m beginning to think I may be better off going another route. I have a few options in mind, but nothing certain yet. Maybe I’m just too much of an optimist, but it really kills me when people prove themselves to be untrustworthy. I guess I should pray for them. Maybe you can add some prayers for the conversion of this particular engine reseller.

It can sometimes be very interesting the paths that God chooses for our lives. While I am generally content to keep the details of stories like this to myself, I’ve recently felt it necessary to put it in writing. Perhaps it is His will that I relate my journey in order that others may benefit but it. I truly don’t know at this point in time. While I don’t expect everyone to agree with the decisions I have made, I do expect them to respect them.

Most of the salient points of the story begin sometime around the Easter season of 2005. In order for the story to have its full effect, however, it is necessary that we go back several years and see the events that lead up to this time. Unfortunately, I’m not certain exactly where to begin. Perhaps this journey began as early as 1992 when I first left for college. In truth, it began well before I was born, but this isn’t an autobiography.

I grew up in a small town in North Carolina to parents who made sure we attended church every weekend, although it was never really something we discussed outside of Sunday morning. Mom had been raised a Presbyterian and Dad a Baptist, so when they married they decided that they would compromise and attend a Methodist church. With the occasional exception, that’s the church and theology with which I grew up. Given that we lived in a small town in the South, the Catholic Church was a total non-factor. There was exactly one parish in our town, but it was just never mentioned. It wasn’t until around middle school that I met my first Catholic family. They were from Maine and had moved in down the road from us. I remember going to Mass with them at some point, but the only thing I really remember about it at this point is that we knelt during Mass. I believe the parish had a communion rail, but I could be mistaken on that point.

For some reason, even at this young age, it seemed wrong to me for two pastors to preach different meanings for the same scripture passage. If we were all part of the same faith, shouldn’t the teachings be the same? It also seemed to me that faith should be more than a Sunday morning activity as it seemed to be in our lives.

Anyway, my middle school years were a very bad time for me. At one particular point my friends left me and began to torment me. I had absolutely no friends left, and was a very angry and depressed child. Mom sent me to the pastor for counseling, but I don’t recall it doing much good. I only mention this because I also attended school and church with these “friends.” We were going through confirmation classes at the time, and while confirmation meant the world to me, I couldn’t stand to be there because of the people with whom I was forced to attend. The part that I still remember to this day is when they began to teach us about church history. They told us that the Methodist church had broken away from the Catholic Church during the Protestant Reformation. To my mind, it didn’t make sense to split the Church like that, but because of my situation I didn’t dare ask questions about it.

When I left for college, many things in my life changed. This, in itself, is not unusual, and is generally experienced by most that go to college. Most of the changes I experienced were due to a lack of maturity on my part, and this contributed to a general laziness regarding my spiritual life. While I still believed in God, and still considered myself a Methodist at this point, I had stopped attending church. Part of the reason was a growing belief that I did not need church in order to retain my relationship with God, and another part was the fact that I generally was just going to bed around the time most worship services were starting. Satan knows scripture about as well as anyone, and he often uses it to convince you that what you’re doing is right. In my case, he used my ignorance of scripture to help me justify myself in not going to church.

In the middle of these changes, I was confronted for the first time with the topic of abortion. One of the guys that lived on my hall in the dorm my first year at school asked me where I stood on the issue. I told him, truthfully, that I had never really thought about the issue and that I really had no opinion on the matter. He told me that it was far too big an issue and I had better decide where I stood sooner rather than later. To me, the issue seemed to be fairly cut and dried and I approached it from an unusually neutral perspective. I had (and still have) strong leanings toward personal freedom, so I posed the question to myself: which one takes priority? A woman’s rights as an individual or the right to be born? It sounds callous, I know, but that was how I looked at it. I never consciously prayed about it, but I believe God knew the questions in my heart and suddenly one day a couple of weeks after running this question through my mind, the answer came to me: murder is always wrong, even if done in the name of personal liberty. In all my wanderings I’ve never wavered from that idea.

Gradually, my loose affiliation with the Methodist church turned toward something more akin to an apathy towards religion in general. As I took more classes and read more over the course of those intervening years, I became convinced that one could live a moral life outside the structure of the church. My apathy at its worst became a dislike for religion and I became uncomfortable discussing God and my views on faith. I considered myself at this point in my life to be an Agnostic, leaning somewhat towards Atheism.

I remember going out to dinner with a buddy of mine one night and as we were driving I turned to get something from the back seat. As I was turned, I noticed the bulletin from his church on the seat. I remember feeling something akin to anger or contempt at the sight. I tell you this to show you just how far from God I was at this time. After my conversion, I identified that emotion for what it truly was – guilt.

Note that while I am pointing out the different stages here in this narrative, all of the changes were very gradual, and occurred over the course of many years.

I remember calling my best friend at some point toward the latter part of this period and the subject of our conversation turned to religion. It seems that he had recently started attending the Catholic church in his area, and was thoroughly enjoying himself. I distinctly remember telling him that I found it quite interesting that as he was moving closer to God, I found myself growing more distant by the day. This incident in and of itself is fairly inconsequential, but it sticks with me to this day as critical in my path. Was this God calling me home? If so it wasn’t the last time I said no and continued my self-absorbed path.

Early in 2005, a woman by the name of Terri Schiavo made national news. She was in a coma and was being kept alive via a feeding tube. Her husband wanted to have the feeding tube removed so that she could die, while her family was adamant that she be allowed to live. I was a regular listener of the Sean Hannity show at this time, and he was very outspoken on the family’s behalf. He spoke at great length on the issue, telling the audience why he believed her husband was totally wrong on this issue, and how his faith in God backed up his arguments. Mr. Hannity is a Catholic, as is Terri’s family, and he pointed out how the Church was at the forefront of the pro-life movement, both in condemning abortion as evil, and standing up against the “culture of death” that wanted to be able to kill people who were an inconvenience to them. Despite my total denial of any sort of faith, Sean’s arguments resonated with me. I agreed with his points in the case, even though I did not share his religious viewpoint.

Also around this time, Pope John Paul II became very ill. If I remember correctly, it was just before Easter. He died shortly thereafter, and I knew that whether or not I believed, this was an important time for the Church. I watched with interest as the cardinals voted to elect Cardinal Ratzinger the next Pope.

I think it was the Friday before Easter when Terri Schiavo finally died from starvation. Her husband had won the court battle, and had been allowed to remove her feeding tube. According to his lawyers, it would be a peaceful, serene death. I never saw any pictures of her during this time, but I find it hard to imagine being starved to death as anything close to serene, much less peaceful.

Looking back on all this with the perspective that hindsight offers, it seems so obvious that God was using these events as a sign to me of where I needed to be in my life, yet I, like so many others, followed my own wisdom, and blithely ignored them. On Saturday night, the night before Easter Sunday, my entire life began to change. As I sat at my computer playing games or what have you, I was overcome by a need to be at church the next morning. This feeling came from nowhere and was completely at odds with everything going on in my life at the time. Even now, all I can tell you about it was that the Holy Spirit gave me an absolute, no-doubt knowledge that I HAD to be at Church the next morning. In the back of my mind, it seemed like it should be a Catholic Church that I attend, but the overwhelming message was that I attend church. To show you just how long my road was, I was less than excited by the thought of attending church, but I found it somewhat difficult to ignore. I picked up the phone book and found the section of churches. Given that I was living in Tuscaloosa, Alabama at the time, this was a rather large section, so I had to narrow my search somewhat. I think at this point, I began to listen to the signs, and I found the local Catholic parish (note the singular). I searched for the location on mapquest, and figured out how long it would take to get there, and what time I needed to leave. Now, remember the part where I said that I wasn’t thrilled about the idea of attending church again? I decided that since that wasn’t my idea of fun, I would only go if I woke up in time. Ideally, this meant I needed to be awake by 9:30 so that I could make it by 11:00. Anyone that knows me will realize that this was a long shot at best. I generally considered it a victory to get out of bed by 11:00 on the weekends. I played around on the computer a while longer, and sometime after midnight went off to bed, making sure not to set the alarm clock. The next morning, I awoke at 9:30 to the minute. Sighing, I realized that I had indeed made a promise to myself, if no-one else, and so I began to get ready. After showering and putting on my suit, I jumped in the car and proceeded to follow the directions that I had looked up the previous night.

I walked into the Church and found myself a seat towards the back. As I sat there waiting for Mass to start I had the distinct feeling that there was indeed someone present. Someone other than the parishioners and the priest and deacon. I knew in my heart that God was indeed present in this building, watching and listening to the service. Being that I came from a protestant background where communion was no big deal, I honestly had no idea that Catholic communion was any different that what I had grown up with. For some reason, though, I felt that I should ask the woman next to me about it. In my pride, I ignored this prompting; possibly because she was absolutely beautiful. So I did what I’d been doing the for the entire Mass – I mimicked what everyone else was doing and I went up to receive communion as if I were Catholic. At this parish, they offered both the host and the cup. As I received each one, it was almost like being struck by lightning. When I say this, I mean that it was an actually physical sensation of electricity as I received each species. It was something that I had never experienced before and I was totally unprepared for it. I managed to make it through Mass mainly by imitating the actions of the people near me.

Needless to say, I was a little overwhelmed at this point. After Mass had ended, I stuck around and waited for the Deacon to have a free moment. I explained to him that I had grown up Methodist, and the feeling that I had experienced the previous night. I also explained to him about my lack of faith, and the fact that I had not set my alarm clock. Deacon Fran told me that he believed that God wanted me to come to their church that morning, and he gave me the name of the woman in charge of the RCIA (Right of Christian Initiation for Adults). This is the class that anyone wishing to join the Catholic church must go through in order to become a confirmed Catholic.

Since school was out for the week due to Easter break, I stopped by the church office and talked to Mary Jane. Naturally, RCIA had just ended because those in it had just been confirmed at the Easter Vigil. She told me that she wasn’t sure if they would be starting a new RCIA class until next spring, but she took my contact information, and gave me the book that they give all candidates so that I could have something to read in the meantime. I think it took me about a week to finish the book, at which time I went to return it to her. She told me it was mine to keep, and maybe a week or two later, she called to tell me that they would be starting a summer RCIA class. It seems they had 18 people wanting to join the Church. I was excited, albeit somewhat nervous, and started going to the class. While at this point, I was certain that I would be attending church on a regular basis, I was a bit hesitant at the idea of leaving the Methodist church behind and changing churches. My hesitation led me to make a phone call that I never would have considered making under any other circumstances. I was concerned that my conversion to Catholicism might upset my parents, and I needed them to support me in this if I was going to make it. In between classes on day, I sat down in a private room and I called my mother. I gave her a brief background on what had led up to the choices with which I was now faced. Nearly overcome with tears, I asked told her that I needed to know she could support me in my decision because I wasn’t sure I could make it otherwise. I can’t imagine how surprised she must have been, but she told me that she was just happy that I was going back to church, regardless of where it was. Having cleared that hurdle, I now had to face my own doubts and reservations.

Fortunately, the RCIA classes lasted all summer long, which gave me plenty of time to contemplate the changes and pray over them. I asked God on a regular basis to let me know which direction I should go, and I saw nothing that indicated I was going against His wishes. In fact, the people I met at that church were some of the nicest, and most helpful that I have ever had the pleasure of knowing in a church setting. All of these things helped to ease my mind regarding my decisions. As I started RCIA, however, I was given a study abroad opportunity at school where I would be studying in Japan for a month. This was to be the month of June – right in the middle of my formation. The RCIA director really didn’t have a problem with it, so I made plans to go. It was a trip of a lifetime, although I realize that my formation and understanding of Catholicism was stunted because of it.

On October 9, 2005, I became a full member of Holy Spirit Catholic Church in Tuscaloosa, Alabama. It was a day I had waited for all summer, and I am still thoroughly convinced that I made the right decision (albeit with a great deal of help). Unfortunately, my graduation soon followed my membership in the church, and I was forced to leave the church I had come to love. Before I left Alabama, however, I went to the Diocese of Raleigh website, and began a list of possible churches to attend once I moved to North Carolina. As soon as I arrived there, I began visiting churches in the area, and, after much deliberation and prayer, I signed up to become a member of St. Raphael the Archangel of Raleigh. Almost immediately, I spoke to the choir director, who was thrilled at the prospect of gaining another tenor (they only had two at the time). In April 2006, I was admitted to the Knights of Columbus and have since been honored with exemplification to the fourth degree.

Many conversion stories you read end here – a happily ever after as they revel in their newfound faith as Catholics. My story is really just beginning. I entered the Church and like many others, I was on fire for the faith. I was finally home and at peace with God’s calling. The problem was that I was an on fire Cafeteria Catholic. I had missed a good deal of formation and instruction while I was in Japan and so had carried far too many Protestant ideals into my life as a new Catholic. I denied many truths and dogmas of the faith that are critical to being a Catholic in good standing. Fortunately, God is nothing if not patient and He always has a plan. When I moved to Raleigh, I had a job but it didn’t start for close to six months. This gave me a lot of free time as you can imagine. I truly wanted to know God and his ways, so I began watching and listening to EWTN. After this went on for a couple of months, a thought occurred to me one day: “Why would you profess a faith and not believe everything it teaches? That makes no sense whatsoever.” I knew I was being given another choice and this time I chose God. I resolved at that point to believe all that the Church taught, without exception, and live my life according to those principles. I won’t lie and say that made things easier, but it seemed then (as it does now) that the choice was either to believe it all or return to my Methodist roots.

I know that God has forgiven much worse than my offenses in the past, but for me the fact that I was able to deny Him for years on end, and His response was to open His arms in welcome speaks volumes about His never-ending love for us. It is my hope that you find something in this story that will show you that no matter what you have done, God is there waiting for you to accept his sacrifice.

May God bless you.

Tonight, when we arrive there will be no traditional blessing to begin the communion service. At the end, there again will be no dismissal. And tomorrow during the Easter Vigil we again will have no traditional opening blessing. In many respects, it’s as if the Holy Thursday Mass just pauses at the end for a day to pick up where we left off. At the end of Good Friday, there will again be a pause in the liturgy until the following day when the Sacred Triduum ends with the Easter Vigil. The Easter Vigil Mass, as stated, doesn’t begin with a blessing, but does have a traditional dismissal.

Good Friday in particular is a very moving service. It is a service that reminds us of the bleak reality of our Lord Jesus Christ’s passion and death. Many times this tends to get glossed over in favor of the joyous celebration of his resurrection on Easter Sunday. Without the passion, however, his resurrection would not have been possible. The passion is also the event that brings about our salvation. Through his passion and death, Jesus suffered and died for all of our individual sins. This is also something that is typically glossed over. We all know that he died for our sins, but think about it for a moment. His death and agony on the cross is partly due to the sins that we personally commit. This means that we are responsible for putting him on the cross in the first place. We weren’t there but it is our fault nonetheless. This thought should make us all the more thankful for the sacrament of penance (also known as reconciliation or confession). The sacrament of penance allows us to express our sorrow for our sins and our hand in Christ’s death. In case you missed it, I shall spell it out for you:

Go to confession!

While it does (and should) sadden you to think that you had some small part in putting Jesus to death, it should also be a great source of joy. After all, what does it say of his love for you if he was willing to suffer so much torment and agony on your behalf? Just through the act of writing this, the thought of a love that strong almost moves me to tears. I can guarantee that there is not a human alive that would be willing to endure that much for you. Not your spouse, parents, children or anyone else that may love you. They all are undone by their own broken nature as humans. How do you repay such love? In our limited nature as humans, it is not possible for us to ever repay such a debt. While it is a debt that we can never hope to begin repaying, that does not mean that we shouldn’t try. If Jesus was willing to go through so much for you, shouldn’t you be able to give him at least one hour of devotion a week? I don’t mean one hour a week when it’s convenient or one hour a week when your schedule allows. I mean one hour EVERY week. Maybe you’ve been away from God and are thinking about trying to repair that relationship. Start now. Make going to Mass every week your first priority. At times it will be difficult; it may even cost you financially or in some other way. If and when it does, think back on the passion and remind yourself that this is a small sacrifice given what he went through for your sake.

Go to Mass!

Make this the year that you truly try to live out God’s plan for you. No matter how faithfully you follow the Lord, use this Easter a new beginning. Find some aspect of your spiritual life that could be better and work to improve it. Not going to Mass every week? Start going. No exceptions. Already going to Mass and confession? Dedicate yourself to an hour of adoration each week. Doing that, too? Work on your prayer life. Maybe start praying the Liturgy of the Hours. There are always ways to improve your relationship with God. Find one and make it happen this Easter. I can promise that the closer you draw to God, the closer He draws to you. It won’t always be easy (typically it will be quite the opposite), but it is always worth it.

May God bless you on this most holy day.

Father, look with love upon your people, the love which our Lord Jesus Christ showed us when he delivered himself to evil men and suffered the agony of the cross, for he lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

Lord, watch over your Church, and guide it with your unfailing love. Protect us from what could harm us and lead us to what will save us. Help us always, for without you we are bound to fail. Grant this through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

Many of our Christian brothers prefer to focus on the ressurection instead of the crucifixion and death. While it is certainly more pleasant to think of Christ ressurected, Saint Paul gives us a different view:

For both the Jews require signs: and the Greeks seek after wisdom. But we preach Christ crucified: unto the Jews indeed a stumblingblock, and unto the Gentiles foolishness (1 Corinthians 1:22-23)

Note that he preaches Christ crucified, not ressurected. Certainly he was ressurected and we rejoice greatly in this. But the crux of the matter is that Christ died for our sins. It’s never a comfortable thing to think about – the torture and agony He endured for our sake, but it was completely necessary. Also, being Christian isn’t about being comfortable. Being Christian is about following in the footsteps of Christ, which, as scripture tells us, went over very poorly with a great deal of the population. Should we expect any less? Our current culture is a place where Christian values are not necessarily welcome or even respected. This doesn’t mean we should stop preaching them or obeying them ourselves.

Truth doesn’t cease to be truth simply because it’s inconvenient or you don’t like it. Hopefully you’ve been using Lent as a means of bringing yourself more in line with the teachings of Christ. We are all called to be saints. How is your journey going?

All powerful God, by the suffering and death of your Son, strengthen and protect us in our weakness. We ask this through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.