Tag Archives: Jesus

I Don’t Know How Big a Mustard Tree Is

Thomas Wheeler, Anchor Senior Intern

“By this is my Father glorified, that you bear great fruit, and so prove to be my disciples.” (John 15:8).

Evangelization is a word that a lot of Christians get super excited about. Spreading the gospel! That’s what Jesus wants me to do, and that’s what St. Paul did, right? Sign me right up for that! But what do we often think we would do to achieve this high aim of preaching the gospel to all the nations? We look to the great saints like John Paul II and Mother Teresa whom God has blessed us with in this generation, who look like superheroes of love in a postmodern and anti-religious world. We see some of our fantastic theology teachers here at Notre Dame who live out their faith and inspire us through their brilliant minds and lectures. We look back to our times at conferences and retreats, where the talks and sessions, combined with powerful experiences of prayer, fill us with the zeal to go forth and proclaim the gospel to all nations.

Here at Notre Dame, many people who dream of using their education and talents to make drastic impacts on our society, our nation, and the world. Studying with engineers, I run into a lot of people who want to help design more efficient and innovative structures, compounds, and methods within their respective fields. And yet, the majority of people do not end up producing “game-changing” technologies and “never before seen” machines that will live up the expectation of making the world a better place.

Within the realm of evangelization, I know I have definitely fallen into this temptation as well. I sometimes find myself desiring to be the new prophet to the nations that will bring the whole world to understand God’s love for them. I want to be the one to convert droves of high schoolers to Christ through my passionate talks and dulcet tones as a worship leader. I want to be the one who knows all the apologetic responses to the pagans and non-believers who do not see the God who sits right before their eyes. I want to be the one people know because of the great parish mission or retreat that I put on that caused them to drop their nets and surrender their life to Christ. I want to be the one who writes that great book on the spiritual life that people will continue to read until the Second Coming. I fall into thinking that evangelization is all about the big things: giving talks, fighting off false prophets, teaching classes, and writing books.

But looking at my life, I know that this is not even the norm for evangelization or how people come to know the gospel. Speakers, theology professors, and other Christian “celebrities” are all great people and have shaped my life. However, my faith did not sprout from a single prophetic message, but from discipleship.

In his book, Set All Afire, Louis deWohl depicts the life of St. Francis Xavier, including his time in university before his conversion. Francis and his college roommate, now St. Peter Faber, are described as typical party-goers, good at athletics, and thriving in the successes of their academic life. One day, they are forced to add another roommate to their living quarters: an older student who would later take the name of Ignatius (of Loyola). At first, Francis and Peter despise the pious Ignatius, who always seems to be at peace, no matter what sort of drama and stress their school-life is putting them through. However, eventually, the two of them begin to question Ignatius and have conversations with him about where his joy and peace comes from. Thus begins the relationship and discipleship through which Ignatius, over the course of many years, leads them to know Christ. Peter Faber later becomes the great Christian teacher and the first priest of the Society of Jesus; and Francis Xavier becomes the first Christian missionary to successfully bring the Gospel to East Asia, impacting countless lives.

Simple discipleship and relationship is the norm of evangelization, and Jesus even demonstrates this in the Gospels. He gives great sermons and heals many lives, but he spent even more time investing in his closest disciples, who would become the foundation for the Church he planned to build here on Earth. Jesus still works to spread his message through the people who have mentored us and invited us into discipleship. Through the Life Teen missionary that led my friends and I through Bible Study during my senior year of high school, Jesus showed himself to me in a simple relationship, but has profoundly worked in my heart to continue to lead others to Christ in the same way.

I am reminded of the parable of the mustard seed, which we have all heard and read so many times before:

“The kingdom of God… is like a mustard seed, which, when sown upon the ground, is the smallest of all the seeds on earth; yet when it is sown it grows up and becomes the greatest of all shrubs, and puts forth large branches, so that the birds of the air can make nests in its shade.” (Mark 4:30-32).

It is easy to discard relational ministry and discipleship as something too simple to affect enough people to actually make an impact on the world around us. We would much rather seek our vocation in ways that directly impact large masses of people, but in fact, we can never know the gravity of leading a single person to Christ through relationship. Most people are called to married life, and even the conversion of a future father or mother impacts the entire line of their descendants, who will likely be raised in a household where faith and love of God comes first. Ignatius could not have known how the relationship he had with Francis Xavier could have born fruit in the conversion of entire islands in the Indian and Pacific Oceans. But Jesus knew the importance of spending time discipling the Apostles, teaching them not only by his words, but with his entire life. If we want to change the world and set it ablaze with the love of God, we must imitate Christ’s example and commit to a life of discipleship, both in following him, and in leading our friends to him.

The Tomb: Where Jesus isn’t.

Erica Pereira, Anchor Senior Intern

This spring break, I was lucky enough to go on pilgrimage to the Holy Land with Campus Ministry. I was so excited for this trip because we were going to the place where Jesus was! Where he ate, walked, talked, died and rose. I went to the Holy Land expecting to grow in intimacy with Jesus. I certainly did, but not in the way that I expected.

At the end of our trip, we had the opportunity to participate in an all-night Vigil at the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. The Holy Sepulcher is the church that contains both Calvary and the stone where Jesus was laid and rose. We celebrated Mass in preparation for our vigil and the priest helping to lead our pilgrimage reminded us in his homily that at the Holy Sepulcher we would be visiting the place where Jesus isn’t. I sat there for a minute to try and really understand these words. But wait; didn’t I fly thousands of miles to be closer to Jesus? To be in the place where he was?

The Church of the Holy Sepulcher / David Swenson

Once we arrived at the Holy Sepulcher, my friend Marissa and I decided to wait in line to see if we could enter the tomb. As we inched closer and closer to the small and low entrance to the tomb, my heart began to race as I approached the place where Jesus isn’t. We entered the small, dark space, and we were with the stone where Jesus was laid. Then I deeply understood. He isn’t here. He is alive! My heart was like fire burning within me as I was filled with the joy of the Resurrection. Seeing the empty tomb made the Resurrection even more of a reality, and my joy overflowed. I could hear the angels saying, “Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen!” (Luke 24:5).

I came to the Holy Land thinking that I would be moved by seeing the places that Jesus was and is. But the place that most struck me was where he isn’t: the empty tomb.

The Tomb / David Swenson

Since I saw where Jesus is not, I have a desire to see where he is. Throughout my pilgrimage, I continuously saw and continue to see where Jesus is. Jesus is in the multitudes of people that passed by us in the busy streets of Jerusalem. Jesus is in my fellow pilgrims who prayed alongside me. Jesus was in every Eucharist that I ate and every Blessed Sacrament chapel that I encountered. And he is there because of the empty tomb, because of the Resurrection.

I don’t have to go to the Holy Land to encounter Christ. I am already where he is: in front of the Blessed Sacrament, and among his people. At Mass, I receive the living Christ and he is alive in me. The life of each individual is witness to the Resurrection. We are to live as Christ lived: not in the tomb, but alive in him.

Jesus, I Trust in You

Bridgid Smith, Anchor Senior Intern

As an Arts and Letters major I take great delight in reading hundreds of pages by multiple authors that cover a variety of topics, finding the common threads in all of them, synthesizing the most important points and finally focusing in on crucial themes. Though it can be a somewhat taxing process – one that a person might be tempted to skirt by seeking summaries – it does involve an element of excitement and discovery when that “light bulb” moment comes and things just begin to make sense and fit together.

Carrying over this practice of finding common themes over to my life in relationship with Christ I’ve noticed that trust has been coming up over and over again. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that I’m a second semester senior and really have no idea what I’m doing next year.  It’s comforting, I guess, to say “I trust that something will work out,” but stopping there would be selling trust much too short. The simple prayer, the mere five words Jesus, I trust in you have kept me rooted in faith despite all of the heartache, uncertainty, restlessness, and doubt that comes in college. Though sometimes I believed it and other times I struggled to do so, I’m learning more and more that cultivating trust in Jesus has impacted my time at Notre Dame more than I will probably ever know.

When I felt lonely and isolated and absolutely overwhelmed as a freshman who didn’t know anyone, I prayed Jesus, I trust in you. I trust that you have brought me to this place and you will not abandon me.

When I was rejected or things didn’t go according to my plans, I surrendered and said, Jesus, I trust in you. I trust that your plans are greater than my own.

When I felt heartache and hurt I turned to Jesus and cried, Jesus, I trust in you. I trust that You will bring healing and peace in your perfect time.

In schoolwork, in summer experiences, in community, in friendships, Jesus has asked me to trust in Him, to trust in His plan, to trust that He is who He says He is and works all things for my good (Romans 8:28).

And He has shown me that this trust, this hope in Him does not disappoint (Romans 5:5). He has opened windows when doors closed. He has led me to friends that make me more of who He created me to be. He has healed brokenness I never thought possible. He has helped me find a community I feel so blessed to be part of. Cultivating trust has not meant my life is somehow magically easy and smooth: I still have lonely moments; I feel uncertain; I definitely haven’t learned to avoid hurt or heartache.  And yet cultivating trust has transformed these things from being mere obstacles in faith to occasions for my faith to grow stronger. Taking trust in Jesus seriously has been one of the most painful things I have ever opened myself up to but it has also given rise to a peace and joy and confidence in knowing that I am loved, protected, and never left alone.

The theme of trust in my life is very much a daily endeavor, a work in a progress.  I must constantly remind myself to trust in Jesus. The following prayer has helped me to nourish this trust, to make it more and more a part of my life. I pray that in some way it might do the same for you.

 

The Litany of Trust

From the belief that I have to earn your love

Deliver me, Jesus

From the fear that I am unlovable

Deliver me, Jesus

From the false security that I have what it takes

Deliver me, Jesus

From the fear that trusting You will leave me destitute

Deliver me, Jesus

From all suspicion of Your words and promises

Deliver me, Jesus

From the rebellion against childlike dependency on You

Deliver me, Jesus

From refusals and reluctances in accepting Your Will

Deliver me, Jesus

From anxiety about the future

Deliver me, Jesus

From resentment or excessive preoccupation with the past

Deliver me, Jesus

From restless self-seeking in the present moment

Deliver me, Jesus

From disbelief in Your love and presence

Deliver me, Jesus

From the fear of being asked to give more than I have

Deliver me, Jesus

From the belief that my life has no meaning or worth

Deliver me, Jesus

From the fear of what love demands

Deliver me, Jesus

From discouragement

Deliver me, Jesus

That You are continually holding me, sustaining me, loving me

Jesus, I trust in you

That Your love goes deeper than my sins and failings, and transforms me

Jesus, I trust in you

That not knowing what tomorrow brings is an invitation to lean on You

Jesus, I trust in you

That You are with me in my suffering

Jesus, I trust in you

That my suffering, united to Your own, will bear fruit in this life and the next

Jesus, I trust in you

That You will not leave me orphan, that You are present in Your Church

Jesus, I trust in you

That Your plan is better that anything else

Jesus, I trust in you

That You always hear me and in your goodness always respond to me

Jesus, I trust in you

That You give me the grace to accept forgiveness and to forgive others

Jesus, I trust in you

That You give me all the strength I need for what is asked

Jesus, I trust in you

That my life is a gift

Jesus, I trust in you

That You will teach me to trust You

Jesus, I trust in you

That You are my Lord and my God

Jesus, I trust in you

That I am Your beloved one

Jesus, I trust in you. Amen.

~ Sr. Faustina Maria Pia, SV

Seeing Christ in Our Division

Ben Swanson, Senior

On Wednesday, November 9 I walked into the chapel of the Coleman Morse Center and sat down for the adoration slot I had signed up for months before. I had gone to adoration at this time every week before that day and I will continue to go at this time for the rest of the semester. This time, however, meant just a bit more. I had spent the day watching people make their way around campus as if there was a great weight on their shoulders. Some were talking; some couldn’t find the words to say anything at all. I realized that regardless of the results of Tuesday’s election, people in this country were divided and many were feeling broken.

Photo by Matt Cashore/University of Notre Dame
Matt Cashore/University of Notre Dame

I went around campus trying to look beyond the division to see if Christ was still on the fringes, but people were just too divided to see Him. I went to adoration to ask Him where he had gone and to rise above all the brokenness. I stepped into the chapel, grabbed the Bible from the table, and sat down. This semester I have been working through the gospel of Luke, so I flipped, and read from the next passage:

“I have come to set the earth on fire, and how I wish it were already blazing!
There is a baptism with which I must be baptized, and how great is my anguish until it is accomplished!

Do you think that I have come to establish peace on the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division. From now on a household of five will be divided, three against two and two against three;
father will be divided against his son and a son against his father, a mother against her daughter and a daughter against her mother, a mother-in-law against her daughter-in-law and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law.”

This is not what I was hoping to hear. I wanted the Bible to tell me everything was going to be alright and all divisions would soon fade. Instead, Jesus tells us our houses will be divided. Our families will be split. Sound familiar?

 My fault had been trying to look beyond the division as if somehow Jesus couldn’t exist in that context. Jesus tells us the exact opposite: the division is exactly where Jesus is. Jesus works in our brokenness because it is in times of brokenness and division we turn to Him and to the Father. We cry out as a lost child, “Where are you?” and he responds with the tenderness and care of a parent by scooping us up and holding us tight. We didn’t see Him because we didn’t expect Him to be there with us. We think God is too good and too pure to dirty his hands in the broken lives of humanity. All I had to do was look up and I would have seen how wrong this mindset is. There at the end of the chapel was Jesus hanging, crucified. On that cross is brokenness and division. On that cross is everything we would never want God to see. God entered fully into the darkest places of human existence because every bit of us is worth saving.

Photo by Matt Cashore
Photo by Matt Cashore

As I have walked around campus since that day, I have not tried to look beyond the division. Instead, I look closely at it and see that Jesus is there waiting for us to turn to Him. We must be willing to let Jesus be with us in our fear and brokenness for we cannot get to Him on our own. Jesus has come to us where we are and he wants to hold us in His arms for he loves us dearly. He is our source of hope and the only way we can fix the brokenness. Jesus will carry us close to his heart. We must only have the trust to let Him see us as we are.