When we are wrapped up in church politics, family discourse, financial and health woes that literally suck the life out of us–there are days that we tend to look for some sort of sign that we are still written in God’s book of life. Perhaps I can be accused of doubting God’s plan more than others, but face it–who hasn’t doubted their purpose, significance or reason for being on this earth, when faced with years of countless battles?
While I try to remain stoic and convincing in sharing my faith with others, a little voice inside me frequently whispers, “failure, loser, and insignificant.” I hate that voice–for it is too familiar and has lived within me since my earliest memories.
That voice is often apparent in the ‘well-meaning’ voices on the outside who find reasons to criticize or assume they know the workings of my heart–those are often the most difficult to ignore.
But a simple, yet memorable moment squelched all of those doubts the other night at our Lay Eccelesial Ministry Class as I witnessed the most beautiful and resonant outcome of the total love of one man for Jesus Christ.
The priest who was lecturing us that night on early Catholicism, began witnessing to us on the benefits of reading daily scripture. “It is important,” he said. “To read scripture every day, so that after you breathe your last and open your eyes, you will know where you are.”
His eyes sparkled with a heavenly countenance as he then explained that in ancient times, an annual celebration culminated with dancing with the Torah. Grabbing his bible and clutching it to his chest, he danced around the room and challenged us, “When was the last time you danced with your bibles?”
Suddenly, it all made sense—-And I wept