Introducing Audrey Assad!

You are the highway I travel,
As I watched you carve streets of gold from sand and gravel,
I gave You brokenness, You gave me innocence and now
This road leads to glory.

For love of You, I'm a sky on fire,
For love of You, I come alive,
And it's Your Sacred Heart within me beating,
Your voice within me singing out
For love of You...

--"For Love of You," Audrey Assad

Around this time two years ago, I discovered and then later introduced to my bloggers one of the newest bands on the Christian music scene at the time, Tenth Avenue North. I've been a huge fan of them since that day and have been glad to see them go on to win multiple awards for their work. They definitely deserve it!

So today, I want to introduce you all to someone else. I know that just writing about her isn't a good luck charm for her future success, but I definitely want to give her as much recognition as I possibly can.

A few years ago, Audrey Assad left her family's Brethren and non-denominational background in search of a certain richness she found in the work of the early Church Fathers and others. That road happily led her to the fullness of truth in Catholicism, and I am more than convinced that we have gained a real gem in her, not only in musical talent but in faith.

Those of you who are familiar with the music of Matt Maher -- and really, if you've read this blog for more than two seconds you should be -- might recognize Audrey as the backup vocalist for many of his songs. As it turns out, the two of them are good friends. Now, she's been signed to the same record label as both Maher and Tenth Avenue North. Her debut album, "The House You're Building," drops mere hours from now on the 13th. From the previews I've caught, it's a collection of piano and vocal pieces that not only lead you into worship, but give some intimate and heartfelt insight on Audrey's own walk with God. It's sure to be a powerful album, and I expect her to go far in the music industry with it. Please, if you can spare the $10 or so for iTunes, do yourself a huge favor and download it tomorrow. You can also buy the CD on Amazon.

Now, for your listening pleasure, here's a live acoustic performance of the album's first single, "For Love of You." I'd like to note here that she's every bit as good live as she is on the album...a sign of a talented musician, for sure!

I wrote this at 10. It's after midnight now, so get to iTunes!

Learning to Crawl

Yet another life lesson fell into my lap today--or rather, my inbox.

My confessor knows me better than I know myself sometimes. Remember back in April I wrote an entry wondering if my struggles in faith were prolonged by my own fear?

Well, his email was my entry verbatim as we reflected on the good that came from that rough season. I admit that I laughed when I read it. There are only some situations where I am truly an open book to people...and now it is coming back to bite me in ironic ways. Ha.

At the same time, I found myself a little sore that he didn't clue me in sooner. But as I chewed on it, there is something important that I can remember a dear friend saying to me years ago. He's been a Wiccan priest for almost two decades now and back when I was still seeking Him, he was my shoulder.

I can remember lashing out at J for taking a step back and telling me that I needed to work things out on my own for a time. I didn't get it, and was furious with him for well over a year.

But you know, I came out of that experience knowing myself better than I ever had previously. What's funnier is that by then I knew that I needed to go back to the Church. The day I told him, terrified and in tears before my first Confession, he was one of my first supporters. If I recall correctly, he told me it was about time.

Sometimes, the people that care the most about us are the ones who give us a kick in the ass and make us walk on our own rather than coddling.

And once again, while a little older and wiser now, I am still profoundly grateful for the lesson.

Burning and Burying

Over the last week and a half, the Gospel from last weekend has been tugging at me more or less nonstop. Eve though I wrote about it once already, it seems that every time I read it another layer of depth or meaning opens up to me.

First, let me talk about a dream I had last week. I usually dream regularly, but for the most part they’re petty and not anything of particular significance. This time, what happened was striking enough to remember well.

I was in a mansion, dusty and old but still in use. It was reminiscent of a bed and breakfast, cozy yet elaborate in décor, very comfortable. A lot of people I knew were there, most of them old friends from my high school days whom I no longer keep touch with simply because of time and distance.

I spent some time walking the whole place, taking it all in, noticing the people yet not really interacting with them. In time, I returned to my room and gathered just a few things that have personal significance for me, including my glasses (which, oddly, I wasn’t wearing at tearing at the time), my Bible, a childhood stuffed animal and those in my family that were there. Once we were all outside, I set the place on fire.

…Dramatic, no? Certainly not my style.

It took a few days of mulling it over, but I came to wonder if it had something to do with leaving the past behind and clinging to only those things that were most precious to me. Coupled with how impacted I was by the Gospel and recent events in my personal life, it seemed like a likely reason.

Then, I happened to notice the homily of a priest acquaintance who is also one of my favorite preachers. Father’s homily reflected on those elements of last weekends Gospel that originally caught my attention, but then mentioned something else that was uniquely interesting.

“Let the dead bury the dead.”

This doesn’t have to refer to people either, but really anything in our pasts…sometimes, there are things we just cannot repair despite our best efforts, and the best thing we can do is let it go, accept that we cannot change the past, set our hands to the plow and keep on going.

Recently I realized that I was firmly rooted in the past and trying to do things that I was simply incapable of doing. Now, I realize that. I have decided to leave the people and things of my past behind in order to truly embrace where God is calling me to be today.

As much as it hurt to do that, I realize now that it’s for the best. And I’m confident that God has some amazing things in store for me.

The Price of Freedom

Yesterday, while we celebrated the 234th birthday a country built on freedom, I found myself given pause to consider my own freedoms.

The freedom of speech has given me the ability to stand for those who are voiceless and marginalized, and against those who would value justice over mercy.

The freedom of religion allows me to dare proclaim healing and peace that comes only through Christ. Though some may ridicule me for it and many may not understand, no one can take away my ability to speak out.

And the freedom of the press is, put simply, the source of my very livelihood. Without it, I would be unable to do my job with the integrity and fairness it deserves, no longer serving the people but the best interests of this government. I would be a panderer, not a truth-seeker.

Most of all, I'm thankful for the ability to free myself from the chains that this life forever tries to bind me to. Anything is possible for God, and with Him there are no limits. That breathes new life into Independence Day.

Listen to Straight No Chaser. They are so beautiful.

Moving

Last night on EWTN's The Journey Home, a Dominican priest revert said something that resonated profoundly with me: "In the spiritual life, you're either progressing or you're going in reverse. There is no status quo. You're either spiritually growing, or spiritually dying."

That's heavy, for sure. But the more I mulled that over, the more I realized it to be true. When things are good in our walk with God, there is always that tendency to relax, to sink down into our peaceful security and maybe get a little too comfortable. Maybe our walls come down, even just a little. And when that happens, little by little we find ourselves praying less, focusing less on Him, and going about our business convinced that we're okay and don't need to hold onto Him so fiercely.

Then, perhaps before we know what hit us, we're on our faces wondering went wrong. As I am tossed around like a stone in the ocean and am getting all my rough edges smoothed out this summer, I find myself again sensing that urgency I did over the winter. We can't allow ourselves to get cozy in our faith, or really in any life state. There's a constant ebb and flow of things, and if we don't stay on our toes and keep our head up, we'll be pummeled. And given the consequences of that, it's no wonder that Jesus seems so insistent that those who intend to follow him act immediately without looking back.

Check out part of the Gospel from this past weekend:

As they were proceeding on their journey someone said to him, “I will follow you wherever you go.” Jesus answered him, “Foxes have dens and birds of the sky have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to rest his head.”

And to another he said, “Follow me.” But he replied, “Lord, let me go first and bury my father.” But he answered him, “Let the dead bury their dead. But you, go and proclaim the kingdom of God.”

And another said, “I will follow you, Lord, but first let me say farewell to my family at home.” To him Jesus said, “No one who sets a hand to the plow and looks to what was left behind is fit for the kingdom of God."

We can't stay stuck in the past, or hold so tightly to the present that we are unwilling to be moved. If we linger on things that are behind us, we'll never reach our full potential, never grow, never heal.

So, just ride the waves with Him before you. It's definitely better than getting stuck in the riptide.

A Tiny Spark

Just some quotes tonight.

"If there are people in your life who have left the Church, God has put you there, not to condemn or judge them, but to witness to what Jesus has done for you. They will see your love and peace...but most of all, your joy. Not happiness, but joy that He has given you."

--Mother Angelica

"Sometimes I want to rewrite the Padre Pio quote so it says 'Pray, hope, and DON'T FREAKING WORRY YOU STUBBORN, ANXIOUS MULE.' I am inclined to think that's the way it actually went, given his temperament, but that's just me. I think the new version is much better."

--Myself (a lot of my friends liked this one)

"If a tiny spark of God's love already burns within you, do not expose it to the wind, for it may get blown out. Keep the stove tightly shut so that it will not lose its heat and grow cold. In other words, avoid distractions as well as you can. Stay quiet with God. Do not spend your time in useless chatter."

--Saint Charles Borromeo

Counting Blessings

Sometimes, when the darkness of this world settles in around us, the effects can be paralyzing.

Stress.
Anxiety.
Despair.
Anger.
Death.

And at the bottom of them all, a question: Why?

It's an ages-old dilemma that philosophy and theology have struggled to reconcile in who knows how many ways. Heaven knows that I lost many a good night's sleep wide at my apartment on campus pondering just that, and often crying bitterly to the God who I believed had shut the door on me.

I've since come home for the summer, dead-set on healing. With time, it's happening, even as the chaos here grows thicker. Receiving consolation on Pentecost was the motivator I've needed to rekindle my relationship with God, and while it's been a cautious and difficult road, I'm getting there. Given the gravity of the situation, I find I have little choice but to lay myself down at His feet and trust that, when the time comes, He'll carry me.

Until then, I've developed a deep sense of gratitude for what blessings do come my way. If I really allow myself to examine my life, it's amazing to me how many answered prayers I really have gotten this year. The fellowship I've needed for so long has come to me in more abundance than I ever could have asked for, I have spent 20 wonderful years with my grandmother, am slowly beginning a new and comfortable friendship with my ex, have a great summer job, close family, and a confessor that refuses to let me walk alone.

I am so lucky. And when I consider that, I find joy.

Hearing Voices

On Monday, I was privileged to have the opportunity to meet internationally-recognized speaker Johnnette Benkovic at a feminism conference in town.

She referenced St. Francis deSales several times, specifically his Introduction to the Devout Life, which says that God speaks in that silence at the bottom of our hearts.

I'm not going to lie -- I've been reckless lately. There's been things coming out of my head and mouth that haven't done so since before my reversion three years ago. That spooked me, and needless to say I've been showing my face at the confessional a lot these days.

Yet, last night, as I was seconds from cutting that rope that ties me to Christ yet again, a voice resounded loud and clear at the bottom of my heart, so much so that it actually spilled out verbally.

NO!

...Excuse me? I'm trying very hard to forget my problems, enjoying that fact, and I end up crying "NO!" in the midst of it?

Stopped me in my tracks, that did. The still, small voice of God that was planted in my soul at baptism, sealed in Confirmation and is brought to fruition at every Eucharist is sometimes, to my shock, louder than my very will. And trust me, I'm Italian; I know plenty about strong wills.

That one moment has been enough to inspire me today. Three years ago, I didn't know how to hear that voice. Two years ago, i wasn't sure how to yield to it. It was in that first 18 months as a Catholic, when I went head to head and will to will with my old confessor (also Italian!), that I as truly formed and learned to respond to my conscience.

Now, miraculously, it seems that the grace of God is finally inspiring me to listen both for, and to, that voice.

Who is this woman, and what did she do with...me?

Making the Choice

A small thought before I turn in for the night...

Almost daily I still struggle with anxiety and fear about the future. In a way that has pleasantly surprised me, I find that it's slowly becoming easier to cope. I'm noticing the physical effects settling in, and am able to shut it down once I recognize it. And I'm learning to relax, to focus on the present, and reaffirm my trust in God.

Nothing in life is ever certain--I've said that more than once here. As much as the Church claims certainty, this humble laywoman cannot claim her faith with utmost assurance. I pray for that grace daily.

What I can give is my fiat. I can give myself up with joy to whatever He wants to walk with me through. Holding out my hand and trusting that He will not only hold it, but guide my steps on this journey is a very difficult task, but I can do it.

A few weeks ago, I sat down with my pastor who just recently lost his father. I said, "Monsignor, how did you cope when he suffered? How are you getting through it now?"

What he said resonated as a profound truth for me. "I get through one day at a time, no more than that. Sometimes, it's one moment at a time."

That's all I've got to give, my choice to believe. God sets Himself before us in the midst of a world that can be calloused, dark and terrifying, and says, "Choose."

I choose to live a life of joy, compassion, hope, redemption, and trust that the Lord I confess is One who keeps His promises.

I may be wrong. But if I am, I know that my life at the end will have been rich and honorable.

That assent is a very small step. But that's really all He ever wants or needs of us--a mustard seed.

Regime Change Revisited

Time and again, I am learning a real lesson from God this summer.

I need to rely on Him, not only most of all but as my sole refuge.

A while back, I was talking to a sympathetic and intuitive Baptist friend from my early days as a Christian. We were talking about the people that go in and out of our lives with time, and I mentioned how I sometimes miss my old confessor. More to myself than to him, I asked, "Why does God always take away the few people I've grown to trust with my faith?"

His answer was telling: "Maybe God is teaching you to be more open with others, and to trust Him."

The next day, I got the news that our chaplain has been put on part-rime status, as he's now been appointed chaplain of every state university in the diocese. Yikes.

Today, I learned that the assistant director of our Newman house has accepted a job at a different university.

Suddenly, two of the people I relied on most at school are leaving. I understand this to be God's will, not only for them, but for me as well.

My friend was right--this is a rough season for me, to be sure, and I'm grateful in saying that it's eased so much already. I worry what going back to campus will be like--will I fall back into apathy and nihilism?

Not if I rely on Him. I have always made excuses about how it's always good to have someone, "you know, tangible," to be my shoulder. I admit that with four priests now assigned to my parish, I worry about losing my confessor, too. But I have God.

The other side of this tunnel is close and bright. And at the end of it, my relationship with God will be so much stronger. That is a serious silver lining.