Until we rest in Thee

There was a time in my late teens when I felt on the edge of a deep precipice that threatened to swallow me up if I stepped too close. Doubt, hatred, despair clouded my heart and mind and I believed any last shred of faith was taken from me. I found myself unable to believe in the incarnation, in the life everlasting, the resurrection of the dead, the salvation of my own soul.

I quickly became tired of asking questions and getting answers that didn’t satisfy. So I took a little spiritual sabbatical. I prayed the last prayer I’d pray for a long season, asking God to reveal himself if he was indeed there at all.

And so began my dance back towards the arms of the Church. People kept telling me to draw nearer to God, to pray harder, to worship louder. But now I don’t think that’s what was missing in my devotion—in fact, I was devoid of any love for or relationship with the people of God. I was taught my whole life that all I needed was my Bible and the Spirit to guide me and I could be perfectly happy. We were all little John the Baptists in the wilderness, just us and God and no need for another soul.

How wrong they were! And even Jesus’ cousin John had his people, he was still a Jew in community and had disciples despite our idea of him as a loner. So after nearly 8 years of journeying, on Holy Saturday I was brought back into the assembly to participate fully in the sacramental life.

* * *

Father Bush lit the Easter fire outside and we all lit our own little candles from the light of the fire. In darkness, we entered the church. Father George chanted beautifully about the attributes of God, his love, mercy, and blessings for us. Thankfully our friends were able to keep Lucy quiet and happy during the entire mass (something even Alan and I haven’t quite figured out how to do…).

There were several readings and responsorial songs, then a brief homily from Father Bush about Christ as our Alpha and Omega, our beginning and our end.

Alan was baptized and he looked so pleased! We all renewed our baptismal promises as a congregation.

Our confirmation was simple and lovely. After affirming that we as catechumen and candidates were ready to accept the creeds and responsibilities of being Catholic, Father Bush anointed us with chrism and blessed us. We each received a scapular from the Church (along with an icon of Saint Luke from Fr. Bush, Easter tulips, and gifts from our sponsors and friends—we were lavished on to say the least). We then took our First Holy Communion, something I’d been anxiously awaiting for a whole year.

Thank you so much to all our friends who supported us: to Dru and Adam for watching Lucy every week so we could attend RCIA, to Pamm and Tom for sponsoring us, to Jason and Hannah for taking the journey with us, and to all who encouraged us along the way. And thanks to Mark, Fr. Bush, and Deacon Burns for teaching our classes, giving us a thorough and enjoyable catechism. We are blessed to be received into the Church at St. Luke’s, which I believe to be a very devoted, orthodox, and caring parish.

* * *

That’s hardly the end of things—I still have questions, will always wrestle with doubts, will struggle with the problems that the Church faces. But I know the Lord is with me and, should I ever feel fallen away again, His people and sacraments are there.

“A promise or a dare
I would jump if I knew you'd catch me
Staring over the edge
I can't tell if you'll be here for me

I close my eyes and make a wish
Turn out the lights and take a breath
Pray that when the wick is burned
You would say that it's all about love

You were there when I needed you
You were there when the skies broke wide, wide open.”

–Jars of Clay