The Promise

A few weeks ago, I heard a priest talking about a promise during his homily. The readings and the gospel for that Sunday were about marriage, so the promise referred to was the one made by a man and a woman during their vows or the one a priest makes at his ordination. The priest giving the homily stated that once you make a promise like this, you never have to answer certain questions again. For example–“do you like being married?” or “how do you like being a priest?” These questions do not matter any more. Although it is important to marry someone you love or to enter the priesthood because you are called to it, once you have made your promise, you are sworn to it. If you ever break that promise, you lose your humanity.

In the movie “A Man for all Seasons,” St. Thomas More tells his daughter, “When a man takes an oath, he’s holding his own self in his own hands like water, and if he opens his fingers then, he needn’t hope to find himself again.”

I may not be married or considering entering a convent, but I am making a promise. God has been drawing me toward this vow for awhile. He has shown me that this world has fallen, and now resembles the time Jesus experienced while He was on earth. The world needs people like His first disciples to go wherever the Lord asks them to go. Our modern world is forgetting who Jesus is or even denying Him completely. As a result, our society is governed increasingly by fear. Without God as our Lord and Savior, there is nothing else left. This is a time when we need martyrs, saints, disciples, apostles and prophets.

“The harvest is plentiful but the laborers are few.” Matthew 9:37

This is what I am promising the Lord. I will go, do and speak wherever and whatever He tells me. I have said this before, but I am renewing my vow. My life is no longer my own, it is and always has been His. He is asking me to surrender to HIm and do His will because the world He created is now in the hands of Satan, the Prince of Lies, and all His children’s souls are in jeopardy.

The Call

On September 16, 2017, I boarded a plane bound for New York City. I had lived in Colorado my entire life and believed it was my home. Leaving it broke my heart, but a force stirring inside me said I needed to go. As much as I loved Colorado, Colorado didn’t love me. There was nothing for me any more and I had to move forward to a new place. Deep down in my soul I knew it was the voice of the Holy Spirit, telling me to move to New York. I had convinced myself that God had a glorious plan for my life. The only reason I agreed to follow the Lord’s calling was that I trusted He would provide everything I wanted–a husband, a job, a “happily ever after” essentially. What I got was unlike anything I could ever have imagined.

At first I struggled; none of my assumptions came true. Instead I endured hardship and loneliness, but God put me through these conditions so I could eventually detach myself from every single piece of this life I held onto and attach myself to Him. Moving to New York was the first “yes” I gave to Jesus Christ. Back then I thought that all I had to do was say “yes” to Him once, and after that everything would fall into place. The truth is I have to say “yes” again every single day and with each “yes” I give more of myself to Him. The good news is that each “yes” gets easier; moving to New York was definitely one of the most difficult ones.

Allowing the Lord to have full control of my life is affirming that God knows more than I do. To my surprise, He really does; my journey transformed me so much and though it is a journey I never asked for, it has turned out to be the best journey I could ever take. This is because the journey was made with Jesus Christ beside me every step of the way. I always had the presence of God in my life through baptism, first communion, confirmation, etc. I believed I was doing all the right things to make myself a good Christian and Catholic. In reality, I was a good Catholic, but I wanted a relationship with God, I wanted to talk with Jesus, and I wanted to fulfill the promptings of the Holy Spirit.

Now, four years later, God asked me to leave again, but instead of sending me to New York, He asked me to return to Colorado. After all the detachment God guided me through, I thought my story with Colorado was complete, but my ways are not His ways. God need me to detach myself from my home in Colorado. I could no longer look to Colorado to satisfy the love a home can provide. Jesus showed me that home is not a place, it is Him. This time I could return to Colorado without relying on it to give me anything. This time I went there to give to Colorado in going about my Father’s business.

Returning to Colorado was the beginning of my true walk with Jesus. We are living in a fallen world, which has been consumed with the enemy’s lies. The world today resembles the world in which Christ lived. Jesus combatted the evils of the world, saving one soul at a time. He asked His apostles to travel through the world and share His word. If they were welcomed, then they could stay and speak the word, however, if they were rejected, they were to shake the dirt from their sandals and move on. Our world needs such disciples again. The word of God can change one person or one family at a time. I know God is calling me to that kind of life. I am not meant to stay still nor am I meant to stay silent. The Holy Spirit has given me words that need to be spoken and places I need to go. I have said “yes,” and now am free to follow the path to wherever Jesus Christ wants me to be. The Holy Spirit has words that need to be heard and they will be heard.

Open My Eyes Lord

The month of August was one of the most trying periods in my life. I did not anticipate this so was unable to fully comprehend what actually occurred during the course of it.

Since May, I have been on a journey with the Holy Spirit, asking Him to send me to places I should go. He took me to Tennessee, Wisconsin and Atlanta—all these destinations enriched my life and strengthened my faith. Then He told me to go to Florida. I went willingly though I faced several obstacles to keep me from going. I felt certain I needed to be there. When I arrived, it turned out not to be the miraculous experience I expected. Instead, I was rendered helpless and completely stripped of all the strength I had regarding my faith in Jesus Christ. It was as if I had been led to the desert in order to be tested by Satan.

In the very first week of my stay I almost lost my sight entirely and got pink eye as well. The pink eye was so severe that I woke up unable to open my eyes because they were so encrusted. Later on I lost my sense of taste, I developed horrible acid reflux, and my energy level dropped to the point where I could not even get out of bed. I found myself falling into fear; my body was failing me and there was nowhere to turn for help. I was on my own, or so I thought. Eventually I arrived at a place where I succumbed to the exhaustion and allowed it to take over my body. My struggle with my body had lasted 15 years. I had limited my food intake and exercised to excess. My body had finally had enough and needed rest. Once I let go of control, God started talking to me—a lot! He sent me an incredible message in the soda aisle of the grocery store. I was seeking a sign from Him and suddenly crossed the path of a woman who noticed the T shirt I was wearing (it says “prayer warrior “). She bluntly commented on it and asked if I had a moment to talk. Of course I said yes. She proceeded to relate her miracle of being cured of cancer. Essentially she was diagnosed with cancer that had spread to her bones. Her first X-ray showed extreme progression, but before she had surgery she got a second X-ray and all traces of cancer had disappeared entirely. The doctor told her the only explanation was that Jesus had cured her. She knew this was due to the power of prayer and she even thanked me for my prayers based on the evidence of my T shirt. She may not have realized that her story gave me the confidence I needed to turn my whole life over to God. There was nothing to fear if I placed all my trust in Him.

After that encounter, I continued to struggle with my lack of energy but I had faith that it would improve when God decided it was time. Thanks to my “time in the desert “ the extent of my journey with the Lord was revealed and lo and behold the moment I left Florida, my health immediately got better. My energy has returned and I am ready to go forward by the grace of God.

The greatest miracle of all, however, I never saw coming. When I arrived in Florida, my eyesight was the worst it’s ever been. I couldn’t even read the screen of my iPhone without glasses. I went to the eye doctor to get a stronger prescription, but when I picked up my new glasses I didn’t need them. Today I don’t wear glasses at all (only for driving). This truly shows the power of God’s divine Providence. I never sought to be cured of my inability to see, content to rely on glasses, but all I needed to rely on was simply my Savior, Jesus Christ.

Before I Died

I died on December 15, 2006. On that day I was diagnosed with Type I diabetes. Although it appeared that my life was sentenced by that diagnosis, my death was not caused by diabetes. That was an excuse; something I could tell the world so people in it might believe they understood why I was acting as I was. The truth is that diabetes had been one result of the battle between the Lord and Satan in my life. I had lost the ability to hear the Lord’s voice and decided to give myself to the enemy. It has taken almost 15 years for me to find my way back to God totally and completely (almost half my “so-called” life). The Lord knew the plans He had for me, however, and He knew I had to die so that I might live again.

During those 15 years of being dead, I learned to hear God’s voice. I dragged my feet when confronted by His commands, kicking and screaming through most of them, but He never left me. He detached me from everything, even the good things in my world that I didn’t think required detachment–my friends, my parents, my family, my home, even my self-discipline. He replaced those with pure freedom, greater than I ever thought possible.

For the past few weeks, I have found myself in a state of deja vu. I have felt the enemy’s attack but I have also felt strength to fight it from the Lord. In many ways, I am living the way I did before I died in 2006. Before December 15 of that year, I was bombarded with words of motivation from God but never recognized His voice. Instead I gave into the fear and torment presented by Satan. I always drew inspiration from movies, music, the theater, etc. but allowed the divine presence into these experiences and asked for the Lord to take control. These inspirations from worldly sources always fell short in the end, essentially breaking my heart. I watched the Lord of the Rings trilogy over and over again and this series of movies gave me hope, but when it ended, I cried for days because it could not go on forever. I had many other moments like that. Each time my heart broke, I drew closer to my death. At the moment of my diagnosis I died, not because of the illness, but because I finally gave up. Life was truly not worth living.

In a way, this is true–life here on earth is worthless and there is not much point to living here unless you have the crucial presence of God with you to give your existence meaning. These past weeks, He has allowed me to relive all the moments I lost to the enemy over 15 years ago. I actually relived a concert with one of my favorite bands in high school, and during that concert I felt alive for the first time in 15 years. The reason for this was that my savior Jesus Christ was by my side. The first time I attended a concert given by this band, I fell under the spell of the band and looked to its music to save me. Of course, this ended badly because the band was merely an icon and could never take the place of God. Another cause of past heartbreak, but during this recent concert, my heart was mended. I saw the Lord’s presence in the concert, and when it ended this time, the joy did not. The joy was preserved safely by Jesus, and He will make sure the joy never fades.

I feel as though I have been placed on a journey of rediscovering the person I was before I died. This journey of rediscovery seems to be reaching its conclusion. The world is changing around me, and not for the better, but I am also changing, I believe for the better. God is preparing me for something I cannot imagine. The darkest hour is just before the dawn, as the old saying goes. But unlike my darkest hour before December 15, 2006, I am not clouded with fear and I have complete faith that God will keep me safe and save the world as well. The apostle Peter had so much faith in Jesus that he walked on water, and maybe I can have the same faith that God will do what medical science has been unable to do and take away my diabetes.

Teenage Melodrama

I have always defined myself as a hopeless romantic, a true sucker for a good story where true love triumphs and happily ever after wins out in the end. The simplest reason for this is because I have always had a desire to get married, to find that one guy I’m meant to be with for the rest of my life. It wasn’t until I allowed God to enter the equation that I discovered the truth of the deep longing inside my heart.

People often think of the most classic love stories when they approach the definition of true love—Romeo and Juliet, Anthony and Cleopatra, maybe even Jack and Rose from the movie “Titanic”. However, I have my own list and it may be surprising. Katniss and Peeta from “The Hunger Games” trilogy take second place, followed closely by Diana and Steve from the Wonder Woman comic in third, but my first choice for an example of true love has always been the story of Pacey Witter and Joey Potter from the teenage melodrama “Dawson’s Creek.”

I never actually enjoyed the TV series. The premise of the plot line seemed rather annoying but right before I started college, reruns of the show were featured on cable and I began watching it at the point where the relationship between Pacey and Joey was introduced. The relationship was destined for problems from the very beginning since Joey’s character had already been designated as Dawson’s (the leading man) soulmate. The whole series was created to build up their innocent and emotional relationship. Suddenly the plot twisted and Dawson’s best friend finds himself falling in love with Dawson’s girl.

Pacey was the quintessential underdog. He believed that he was a reject and a failure. When his relationship with Joey was discovered by Dawson, Pacey was forsaken by Dawson and the rest of the cast. My heart went out to him, it is rare to see a man willing to give himself entirely to another when he knows the girl will never be able to give herself entirely to him. Regardless of this, he never stopped loving her because he couldn’t.

Watching Pacey and Joey made me think about the other stories of true love I mentioned earlier. The stories all had central commonalities, the main one that all the men involved were underdogs. They found themselves in love with someone unattainable but against all odds, they end up with the girl. This is the miracle of true love; the Holy Spirit intervenes and creates the unimaginable out of hopeless situations.

After I prayed about these stories for quite awhile, the Holy Spirit graciously started to connect the dots for me. I have recently gone through a consecration to St. Joseph. During the consecration I recognized the hidden love story of Joseph and Mary. All that Joseph took on to protect Mary and keep her safe was immense. I realized that in the love stories I appreciate, the man falls in love with a woman who belongs to someone else, someone more defined in the leading role. St. Joseph experienced this—he fell in love with a woman who is the immaculate spouse of the Holy Spirit. Who can compete with the Holy Spirit?!!! Yet God intervened and while Joseph was willing to take a back seat, God said no. God saw the inner desires of Joseph’s heart and fulfilled them in miraculous and unimaginable ways.

The love story of St. Joseph and Mary is the love we are all meant to share with our soulmates. God is love, and when I watch these love stories, I am allowed to glimpse the love He intended for all the families He created. Pacey was never a religious character, but the way he loved Joey could only have come from the Holy Spirit because it was unconditional. I am still searching for my love story, but I know it will happen because God continues to remind me of the deepest desires of my heart. In addition, the Holy Spirit is already the leading man in my life, but I will keep asking for the “underdog” too. That way I can live the life predestined by the example of the Holy Family—Jesus, Mary and Joseph.

I Am Woman

Having been raised according to the principles of Catholicism, I have always followed the Church’s teaching regarding the LGBTQIA+ community. I knew it was a sin to act on an attraction to the same sex, but it was not till I learned about St. Pope John Paul’s Theology of the Body that I finally understood why this was a sin. Even now, when I personally accept the logic of the pope’s philosophy, I struggle to speak about the subject for fear of offending someone. Since I have never experienced same sex attraction, I believed I could not relate to the hardships the LGBTQIA+ goes through until recently.

About a month ago, I listened to an interview with Christopher West, a well known theologian today, who has devoted his life to the study of the Theology of the Body. He spoke of icons and how humans gravitate to them and love them because they seem to reflect the love of God. We are God’s creatures, so it is a natural desire to seek His love, but sometimes we mistake something else as God’s love—icons. Christopher West argued that society adopts this attitude toward sexuality; it started with Elvis Presley and the way he shook his hips while he sang. The sexual revolution involved society using sex as an icon for the main source of love, instead of God. The problem with icons is they always fail to live up to expectations and we end up hating what we once loved. Essentially, this emergence of LGBTQIA+ community is a result of the failure of the sexual icon. We started madly loving our bodies, but those bodies are not God, so now we are beginning to hate our bodies to the point where we tear them apart, even going under the knife to change them.

I had come to believe the lie that I could not understand why anyone would want to change what God created as sacred. I had not realized I had already fallen prey to the temptation to reject my gender identity. When I was diagnosed with diabetes I lost the ability to have a monthly period. At the beginning of my recovery, I tried to restore my period but quickly gave up, pretending I had it again. My reason for this was that I had to risk weight gain in order to have a period and sacrifice the control over my body to prevent gaining weight. For almost 15 years I never had a period and my ovaries became dormant, so I could lose weight quickly and easily. I didn’t understand at the time that I could do this because I rejected God’s gift to me at birth—my female identity.

This past year, I have been blessed by my God and Father who restored my menstrual cycle. It has taken a long time, but I am finally reaching a “regular” cycle, though there is still much hardship involved. Last month was basically hell for me, filled with mood swings, uncontrollable hunger, eating to the point of being sick, skyrocketing blood sugars no amount of insulin could correct, and the usual bloating, cramps, everything that PMS often entails. In conclusion, I have realized it actually hurts to be a woman. It is excruciating and undeniably involves one of the most painful life processes imaginable. No wonder people want to get rid of their ovaries—I would love to do that after this month! Returning to the numb feeling when I didn’t have a menstrual cycle is a huge temptation.

In this anger and frustration I recognized what Christopher West referred to in his interview on the Theology of the Body. I was experiencing the sheer hatred some people have for their bodies. I fully understand the desire to eliminate gender from the body since it causes nothing but pain—or so it is perceived. However, at the end of the day, in the midst of the distress, I still choose to be a woman. It may have been easier when my body was numb and without one of my female functions, but I was not whole and knew I was incomplete. I longed for the Holy Spirit to enter in and heal me. Now each month when I get my period, I have beautiful evidence that I am who God created me to be. I am a woman

Pruning Hurts

Once again, the Catholic Church has reached the point in its liturgical year called Ordinary Time. For most of my life, I have heard priests express to their congregations that we are not supposed to consider this period of time as “ordinary.” Every temporal designation in the Church year has its own meaning and reason, and as followers of the Catholic faith, we should learn and grow during each unique time. One priest related the liturgical cycles of the Church to the natural seasons of the year and the colors that correspond to each cycle worn by the priest and displayed on the altar have special significance as well. Ordinary Time is traditionally green, which spurs thoughts of spring and summer, the opportunity for new beginnings. However, in order to make these new beginnings, there must be pruning. Just like trees, plants and some flowers, we humans need pruning to help us grow.

I have no objection to being pruned, especially by God. I want nothing more than to be continuously prepared and readied for encountering the Lord in new ways. I often forget how much pruning hurts. Pruning plants requires rather intimidating implements like clippers, shears, even chainsaws when shrubs need drastic trimming. This past week I believe my pruning included the use of a chainsaw. I was asked extremely abruptly to let go of what I was not expecting. I found myself crying out to the Lord, “I am out of control! Please help me control myself!” Even as I begged, I knew my words were inappropriate, but I needed to say them. Part of the pruning process requires releasing control over my life to God. In a sense, He pulled the rug out from under me. I was swept off my feet and had no way to get up. I am still struggling to regain my balance. I am still clinging to an imaginary grip on this control I think I can maintain. Eventually I will learn how to let go. I have let go before—each time the stakes get higher, but the more I give up, the more I gain within the Lord’s providence.

This past week I was called to travel farther than I have in a long time. I traveled to a different time zone, and even though it was just an hour difference, my life was thrown into disarray. I was left truly confounded, mainly because I can’t remember being so effected by a time change. It finally occurred to me that during the time of COVID restrictions I never traveled outside my time zone. It has probably been over 2 years since I left it. As a result, I lived this past week as a morning person, which may not seem like a big deal, but I have always been a night owl. I looked forward to the night because that was also my time spent in deep contemplation with the Lord. I got all my “to do” lists completed when the sun went down, and now I am operating on a new schedule where I do not have the sacred time to spend with the Lord or to simply feel productive. Instead of resting in the Lord and believing in the process of change, I fought it every step of the way. Each passing day I fell asleep earlier than usual, telling myself “I will do better tomorrow.” Surprise, surprise—the next day was no improvement.

Despite all my frustration and determination to prevail over the will of God, every time I engaged the Lord in prayer, I heard reassurance. He is pruning me; I need to learn to allow for change that will open me up to encounters that will alter my life. In truth, with all my inner turmoil, all the extra sleep I was getting enabled me to engage in several afternoon activities that I would normally have passed up. One reason I traveled so far was to see my brother and his family. Due to COVID, I had not seen them in over 2 years. So much has changed in their lives and I have missed a lot, but I spent almost every day of last week with them and was completely present in their company. It is remarkable that although my inner self was in immense chaos, my outer self was experiencing great joy. Memories were created this week that I will cherish for a lifetime and this is only the beginning. Just as the Catholic Church is undergoing its own version of pruning and preparing itself for a new beginning, I am blessed to walk along a similar path. There is a new beginning coming. I feel it and have faith in it; I need to let go and allow a different way of life. On my own, I could never achieve this, but with Jesus Christ who strengthens me, anything is possible.

Broken Bread

This past Sunday the Catholic Church celebrated the Solemnity of the Holy Body and Blood of Jesus Christ, also known as the feast of Corpus Christi. The sacrament of the Holy Eucharist, where we receive the true body of Jesus Christ in the form of bread and consume it, is not only sacred, but sets the Catholic Church apart from other denominations of Christianity. Many Christians take communion, but it is generally considered that they are eating bread and drinking wine in a more symbolic way than actually ingesting Christ. Some denominations go as far as to say that communion is receiving the body of Christ “in, with, and under” the forms of bread and wine. However, the Catholic Church is the only one where its members can come and adore the body of Christ in an adoration chapel or in church, sometimes 24 hrs. a day, 7 days a week.

I attended one of the largest Catholic parishes in the nation on the feast of Corpus Christi this year, and unfortunately it was not the most uplifting experience. A large congregation is often not as welcoming to visitors as a smaller parish might be. This is understandable, but I still left Mass feeling somewhat irritated and resisting the feeling that going to Mass might have been a waste of time. It was not until I brought my unsettled spirit to the Lord that I was able to discover the gift I received from this experience. Believe it or not, having such a negative experience only heightened the beauty of the meaning of the Solemnity of Corpus Christi. During the homily, the priest referred to a parishioner who came to adore Jesus Christ in the Holy Eucharist every day. She once approached the priest and remarked, “I don’t know how many people realize what a gift it is to be able to visit Christ in the flesh.”

That parishioner is right; I had not grasped the significance of having the physical presence of Christ in the church constantly. I asked myself why I went to church. Not because of the priest, or his homily, or even the opportunity to commune with fellow daughters and sons of our Lord. As wonderful as those elements are, they are not the reasons that draw me back to Mass every Sunday. The reason I come is to receive Jesus Christ into my soul. When I finally recognized this, I understood it will not matter how negative an experience I might have. Going to church is never a waste of time because I will always encounter Christ.

This realization was verified as I went to receive communion that Sunday. Right before I was to receive the Eucharist, the extraordinary minister suddenly looked alarmed and without any explanation, he left his post and rushed off to the priest who was also administering Holy Communion. It quickly became apparent that they were running low on the consecrated hosts distributed during communion. The priest started attending to every line except mine and for awhile it appeared that my line had been forgotten and we might have to go without. But God never forgets; I was one of the last to receive the Eucharist, and by that time the consecrated hosts were being broken into pieces in order to accommodate all the parishioners. Of course, the size or amount of the Eucharist does not matter. The small sliver of a wafer that I received may have been more treasured in my soul than the normal, full-sized wafer I usually do.

The Church is always in danger of succumbing to human error. This was never more obvious than during that Mass, but God remained in charge. He allows error, but brings greater good out of it. Instead of getting upset that I was seemingly forgotten at the most important time in the Mass, I saw this as a blessing. Jesus physically came to me in that church, and just as He did on the cross, He gave up His body for me. In that broken bread, I received the brokenness Jesus endured through His sacrifice on the cross.

No matter what happens in this world, no matter what happens in the Church, no matter what happens in our daily lives, God will never abandon us. Jesus Christ is now and will forever be with us. This is the promise the Solemnity of the Holy Body and Blood of Christ holds for us.


When I was growing up, I thought it would be so cool to have that mysterious persona–a dark figure everyone noticed but no one really knew. I would spark curiosity from all I met, but would have the advantage of hiding who I really was. I tried hard to create this persona; I even went so far as to throw away my entire wardrobe and bought only black clothing. I dyed my hair black. My world then and the world now endorses the idea that we all should hide our true selves. The less people know about you, the less ammunition they have to hurt you. Recently, however, I came to realize that the true life of mystery is actually living life as an open book.

The reason this life is so mysterious is that most do not dare to live it. It is understandable when you consider the best example of a person living without holding anything back is Jesus. He spoke only Truth and He never rejected who He was or why He was on earth. And look what happened to Him! We killed Him because He dared to show the world who He was in His entirety–God and man.

It is not easy to live in such an open and vulnerable way. It is much harder than living life closed off from others. If I do not engage with the world, it will not engage with me. After high school I grew out of my “all black” phase, but by then I was dealing with a diagnosis of Type I diabetes. I started to feel extremely misunderstood; every time I opened my mouth people mistook what I said or just wouldn’t try to understand at all. I turned away from quite a few friendships because of this, essentially self-quarantining myself and rejecting the world because I believed it had rejected me.

Over a decade has passed since my first attempt at being mysterious, but here I am again faced with the same temptation to hide from the world. This time the world itself makes it extremely easy to escape its clutches. In fact, the world is promoting seclusion in a positive light. There is no denying this past year has been difficult; the world was confronted with an epic pandemic and people all over the globe had to deal with a crisis never dealt with before. Miracle of miracles, the world now seems to be recovering and people are now beginning to consider a life similar to the one they had pre-pandemic.

Nevertheless, when I look into the future, I must be cautious. The world has been corrupted by several lies. The pandemic is no longer the issue; it is the fear of living life again in close proximity to our fellow men. Fear breeds fear, anger breeds anger, and suffering breeds suffering. I have struggled in maintaining friendships because both my friends and I have refused to speak the truth to one another. Somehow, as a society, we have given in to the lie that by not speaking truth, we are being kind to each other. If I hear the excuse, “I don’t want to burden you with what I am going through” again, I might just scream!

In the light of the flames kindled on the feast of Pentecost, I believe we have a perfect reminder that we are all in this together. We are part of one body, each with his or her own gifts, but united under one Spirit. If one part of the body suffers, the whole body suffers. Now more than ever, we must be honest about what we are actually going through. The world is headed down a dark path bound by lies and fear. There is another path, the way of the Spirit, to live a life of true mystery and show all you are to the entire world without thinking of what that world might do to you. I am, you are, we are all children of God, and only by uniting can we once again live in community and peace

My Life For Rent

This was the title of a song by the artist Dido. I listened to her music almost nonstop for a period during my teenage years. Her songs allowed me to imagine what I wanted my life to be when I grew up. As a teenager, I struggled to fit in so I looked to music and movies to inspire me and motivate me to achieve my dreams of a greater life. I had a few detours that made me forget what I longed for, but somehow in this 33rd year of life God has reminded me of what I asked Him, and now He is showing me how He always fulfills His promises.

“If my life is for rent and I don’t learn to buy, I deserve nothing more than I get because nothing I have is truly mine.” Dido

I have reached a point where I have no use or desire for the things of this world. Everything I obtain in this world comes from God and He can also take everything away. God has taken much from me over the past week, but this is not necessarily bad. In fact, it has been extremely liberating. God strips away everything of this world so He is the only thing left. When I realized that all the attachments and even the comforts of this world could never satisfy like the love of God, I was freed from the confinement of this world.

I am starting a new journey in my life, and it is quite terrifying, but that is to be expected when I actively follow God and leave everything I relied on behind me. Jesus knows the cost of His request; when He asked His disciples to follow Him, several were unable to do it because the price was too high. Nevertheless, choosing to follow Jesus will always bear great fruit.

This time of my life is when many of my peers decide to “settle down” and buy homes and plant roots in one place. This is not the path for me; I have learned not to buy. God has called me to walk with HIm. The words of Paul continue to fill my head; He journeyed through the entire world with nothing but his faith in the Lord to carry out His will.

“But now, compelled by the Spirit, I am going to Jerusalem. What will happen to me there I do not know, except that in one city after another the Holy Spirit has been warning me that imprisonment and hardships await me. Yet I consider life of no importance to me, if only I may finish my course and the ministry that I received from the Lord Jesus, to bear witness to the Gospel of God’s grace.” Acts 20:22-24

Jesus has called me to walk the road to Jerusalem. I do not know what the road will look like or what I will encounter along the way, but whatever happens, all that matters is that I carry out the plan God has for me. Now, I do not believe that I am going to the physical location of Jerusalem. Jerusalem symbolizes the final destination in my life just as it symbolized the final destination in the lives of both Jesus and Paul. Lives lived for God are not meant to be easy, and I don’t want mine to be. This life is not really mine and therefore of no importance to me. I only yearn for the loving embrace of the Lord. The world is entering into dangerous times, and the Church is under attack. I believe that Jesus is calling for disciples once again to do what was done before–Defend His Church.