Exile and Exodus

Israel seems to go through a series of exodus and exile. It seems like God calls His chosen people to a place or situation, then gets them out of there… only to leave them isolated, alone and feeling lost.

The story of Moses leading the Hebrews out of Egypt (which is called – GET THIS – the EXODUS story), is a prime example.

God actually led the Hebrews into Egypt, where they ended up in captivity. Albeit, He led them there some 400 years prior to their slavery, but still, He led them there. Hearing the cries of His people for deliverance, He also led them out of Egypt through His servant, Moses.

WHERE THEY END UP SPENDING 40 YEARS IN THE DESERT.

Sitting on the banks of the Jordan, in the “plains of Moab” and poised for the conquest of Canaan (i.e. the land “overflowing with milk and honey” that God promised them like ages ago)… The Hebrews do this great thing.

They start doubting their deliverer.

I’m not saying that it’s not a natural reaction.
I mean… Have you ever felt exiled? Isolated? Alone? Because if you have, I’m sure you’d know the doubt, anxiety and depression that creeps in… it’s no fun at all.

Exile is a hard place to be in… but it’s also a necessary tool that God uses to refine us.

I’ve written in previous blogs about being “sent down the hall” when I was younger. If my parents couldn’t get through to me in any other way, and I was so worked up or so convinced that my wrong way of doing things was the right way, or that I just didn’t realise that what I was doing was wrong, I would be sent down our long hallway, to sit on my own and think. I feel like God does the same thing to His children when they don’t listen to Him.

Not even the most arrogant, rude and self-righteous Christian could go through exile and come out of it not being changed in some way. Sometimes exile is necessary for us to be tested to see how far our faith will go.

I was singing a hymn in mass last week when I found myself choking up on these lyrics:

“Does your faith carry on in the shadows? Does it shine in the night, for the world?

Will you love me as I have loved you? Will you live with me in the darkness as I die? For the moon, and the stars, shall be gone like the night… and the sun will be shining on you.”

Exile should be a proof of our faith. It should be a proof of our love for God, who made Himself a man, so that He could come and die for us, without any assurance that we would return His love.

Will we love Him the same, even when we’re “not really feeling it”?

Will we continue to be a light, when all we can see is darkness?

The last line is so great: “For the moon, and the stars, shall be gone like the night… and the sun will be shining on you.”

God would never lead us into the wilderness to just leave us there. I mean, He might let us stay there for a time so that we can learn what it is to be Christlike. To be REALLY Christlike… Not just knowing things about Christ and not doing them. Committing like never before to being like Jesus.

The other Bible story about exodus and exile that really speaks to me is Noah. Cup your hands for a second (like you would for communion). Do they look kind of like a boat? If they don’t, then you’re definitely cupping your hands wrong. Anyway, you probably get where I’m going with this…

Although Noah was in the midst of raging waters that drowned and purified sin and in uncomfortable circumstances – I mean, hanging out with your family is awesome, but I can imagine that  being around them 25/7 along with two of every animal in the world while being cramped on a boat was probably not the most fun experience – he was still in the palm of God’s hand.

That’s got to do something to a person.
Hopefully a good something.

Noah’s faith in God’s deliverance was what brought the rainbow and the promise that it would never happen again at the end of his exile.

If you’ve been exiled, you will surely be delivered. The answer is coming. Don’t lose faith in that promise.

Isaiah 54:9-10

This is like the days of Noah to me: Just as I swore that the waters of Noah would never again go over the earth, so I have sworn that I will not be angry with you and will not rebuke you. 

For the mountains may depart and the hills be removed, but my steadfast love shall not depart from you, and my covenant of peace shall not be removed, says the LORD, who has compassion on you. 

Halloween

A few nights ago, I found myself in a precarious situation (to say the least).

Let me set the scene for you: It was a dark and stormy night. I was sitting at the train station by myself. It was late (eleven o’clock). I was alone. My phone was dead. It was Halloween.

Sounds like the start of a horror story, doesn’t it?

Felt like it, too.

There are few things that truly terrify me. This situation was one of them. There are many predators that may lurk in the dark, and I had no means of knowing what kinds they would be and whether or not they would be there. My ride home was late, but I knew they would be coming… I just didn’t know when they’d come to my rescue.

So there I sat, with my rosary beads in one hand, fervently praying for protection and invisibility and my deodorant bottle in the other, securely tucked under my jumper for optimum surprise defensive purposes. My mind was focussed on praying. My eyes were alert and scanning the area.

I’m not saying that I’m proud of it, but one of my first responses to a stressful situation is crying. From the point I sat down, I wanted to burst into tears. I fought that urge, listening to the logical part of my brain which put forth the argument:

How will it help you to stay safe if you’re crying? That will make you look weak and vulnerable. You need to be strong. The tears will mean that you can’t see properly. You need to see. Someone is coming for you. You need to trust. 

Instead of crying and general hysterics, I sat up straight and held my head up high.

Hail Mary, full of grace. The LORD is with you. Blessed art thou amongst women…
I could see a shifty looking figure at the end of the street. They stopped and turned towards me. A man shouted something offensive somewhere close by.
…and blessed is the fruit of thy womb Jesus…
The shifty person was still standing there, staring. A woman responded with something equally offensive.
…Holy Mary, mother of God…
They started walking towards me. It was a man completely in black. Two men were talking loudly (and one of them, drunkenly) in a driveway only a few metres away from me.
…Pray for us, sinners, now…
The not-drunk one got into a louder car and drove away as the shifty looking person got closer and closer.
…and at the hour of our death (which hopefully isn’t THIS hour)…
He walked past without looking at me or speaking to me.
Amen. 

I breathed a sigh of relief and continued to pray my rosary, asking for protection and invisibility. As I did, I felt like Mary was reminding me of some of the promises that accompany devotion to the rosary:

I promise my special protection and the greatest graces to all those who shall recite the Rosary.

The Rosary shall be a powerful armour against hell, it will destroy vice, decrease sin, and defeat heresies.

You shall obtain all you ask of me by the recitation of the Rosary.

I have obtained from my Divine Son that all the advocates of the Rosary shall have for intercessors the entire celestial court during their life and at the hour of death.

That’s straight from Mumma Maz, ya’ll.

The last one particularly comforted me. I remembered reading somewhere that when you pray the rosary, Mary and the entire court of Heaven prays it with you. I looked around, both sensing and realising that I was certainly not alone. I may be sitting in a dangerous place with potentially (and probably) dangerous things around me, but I was protected.

Another blog post on another day would end with the reminder that the dawn comes at the end of the night. That All Hallows Day follows Halloween… That the Saviour comes through. Every time. While I knew that sitting on that bench, and while I know that sitting at home safely, that wasn’t the point of the lesson.

Sometimes the point is learning to hold your head up high and strong when you feel scared and vulnerable. Sometimes it’s about having faith and enduring rather than shrinking away and giving in. Enduring the dark is what makes us strong. Waiting for the Light is what gives hope.

Jesus will always come for me, but He will also never leave me.

As if He’d let me sit in the dark on my own.

Isaiah 41:10
So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

Proverbs and Pop Music

I have a bad habit of listening to really really horrible pop music – unintentionally.

It’s not completely my own fault. YouTube seems to always have the same videos in the What to Watch section and maybe I’m too lazy to think of something new to listen to, or maybe I just really like sassing out to some T-Swizzle or Beyonce. It’s fun! I like the music and I might make a lip syncing snap chat or five.

But then YouTube gets a bit presumptuous and start playing related videos without me actually clicking on them.

…Okay, YouTube. You have your fun.

So I flip back onto my Facebook or whatever else I’m (most likely) procrastinating with at the time and, essentially forget that the music is playing.

Fast forward a little while and something in the music suddenly grabs my attention and pulls my focus back to it.

No. This can’t be real. I’m not actually listening to this person’s music right now… am I? 
Oh… I am… EW! I’m halfway through a video of their so called “greatest hits”…

Ugh.

I recently started reading and studying the bible. I’ve tried to start this many times and always ended up stopping for some reason. This time, I was determined to make a different outcome. I began with the Book of Proverbs, which is a collection of sayings (amongst other things) by the wise king Solomon. As you might imagine would be the case with a book written by a wise king, it’s all about wisdom.

One saying in particular has stuck with me.

Proverbs 14:12

There is a way that appears to be right, but in the end it leads to death.

Now, T-Swiz and Bey definitely seemed like the right thing at the time, but then, when I wasn’t paying any attention, I was in the middle of something truly horrendous.

If that can happen when I’m just listening to music, it makes me wonder what might be happening in way more important parts of my life… What things am I letting slip that will make me slip? What behaviours, thoughts or even people are unhealthy for me?

Jesus, please illuminate the path that leads us to You.

I Suck At Public Transport

I don’t know about you, but I suck at public transport. Like a lot.

Earlier in the week, I was on the way to my piano lesson…

I sat, awaiting the bus that would take me to my lesson… for about an hour and a half. It didn’t come until it would definitely get me there far too late. When it did come, I got on (obviously) and clicked the ‘stop’ button when it reached my stop (as any good passenger would)… The bus driver kept on driving to three more stops before he actually stopped the bus.

I forgave him for the fact that I would have to walk much further to my lesson than I anticipated and would thus be even later than I already was.

After my piano lesson, I was supposed to catch another bus back to the train station. This bus took the scenic route so much so that I’m pretty sure we might have seen a genuine, native Indian elephant if we had’ve kept going for just a bit further. Finally, I recognised my surroundings somewhat, hit the ‘stop’ button, AND! Miracle of miracles! The bus driver stopped at that stop.

I was on the way to the train station, thinking about how I should write a blog about public transport being a fantastic metaphor for life and the way God gets you back onto your right path when I decided that there wasn’t really enough there and that it wouldn’t be very interesting…

WELL! GOD HAS A SENSE OF HUMOUR.

I accidentally got onto the wrong train.

It was an express train.

TO THE GOLD COAST.

I had to laugh by this stage. I had made every single wrong move possible and now I was going miles and miles away from where I needed to be going. Thankfully, I had a lifeline of a train station about halfway between the city and the coast. I got off, went back into the city, and eventually, home.

Sometimes it feels like what we’re waiting for is coming too late – but, unlike the bus that took me to my lesson, it arrives exactly when it should… and sometimes, it’s not what we were initially waiting for. Sometimes, God will take us on the scenic route… and sometimes, because of our human-ness, we end up going in completely the wrong direction, which will end up being God’s direction.

Regardless, we always have a lifeline. We get to choo-choo-choose to get off the train (I make no apologies for that awful joke). When we do, we’ll always be guided back home.

I guess it’s about learning from the mistakes we make and seeking the opportunities we’re given to get back onto the right track.

Nobody wants to end up on an express train to Definitely-The-Wrong-Place… but if, perchance, we do, we just need to trust in God and acknowledge Him and His guidance, and He will take us straight back home, where we are meant to be…

Proverbs 3:5-6

⁵ Trust in the Lord with all your heart
    and lean not on your own understanding;
⁶ in all your ways submit to him,
    and he will make your paths straight

Coffee With Friends

Earlier today, I got coffee with two of my best friends.

When I arrived at the shop, I found that one of them had already been there for a while. I sat down and we started talking and became engrossed in discussing an issue that she was dealing with. She said she really wanted to be led through it by God and also led closer to Him. She asked for my opinion and advice on how to do that. I was about half way through explaining a point, when our other friend came in and the conversation went in another direction.

Eventually, though, it did come back to this friend and her problem. I continued giving her advice while getting our other gal pal up to speed. As I kept on speaking, this said gal pal pointed out that she had something to say that would help the situation.

I remembered my new found ‘yes’ to seeking silence.

AND!

Uncharacteristically!

I shut up and listened. Completely.
…Without interjecting.

She explained everything I was going to say, but she offered her own perspective on the situation. This particular friend has an interesting story. She’d been a faithful Christian until two years ago, when she became an atheist. I thought it was interesting that her life experience actually leant itself to this situation and helping our other friend discern a path to Jesus. As I sat back, my admiration for her (which was already hardcore to begin with because she’s awesome) only grew and grew. I felt so humbled. I could see and hear that God was speaking through her. If I had’ve spoken over her, I could have been telling the Holy Spirit to be quiet (in a way… Not that my friend is the Holy Spirit, but you get my point).

God reveals Himself to us in silence. Sometimes that means meditation. Sometimes it means quietening your heart… Sometimes it can actually just mean quietening your mouth and allowing Him to speak through someone else.

Had I not been silent, I might not have heard the next thing that my friend had to share…

After giving her advice, my friend (who was previously an atheist) knocked us out of the ball park by dropping the totally exciting bomb that realised that SHE LOVED JESUS!!!!!

Excuse me, but can we just (quietly) get a HALLELUJAH up in here?

Lamentations 3:26
It is good that one should wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord.

God in Silence

Alright!

You know when God asks you to do something and you tell him that you don’t really want to do it?
Or you just ignore Him telling you?
Or you say: “Oh yeah! Sounds great. I’ll do that… at some point…”

Yeah, look… I don’t know about you, but I totally do all of those things… and when I do that, He seems to not stop talking about it until I do it. It’s like He chases me around with the same phrase or sign or whatever else until I respond with an “ALRIGHT! OKAY! Look. I’m going. See?”

So it’s about time that I fess up: I feel a massive call… to silence.

If you know me even a little bit, you might realise what a massive challenge this is for me.

The thing about this call is that it’s also a conviction, and it would be wrong of me not to point that out. I mean! It’s not that I don’t do stuff.

I do an awful lot of talking, that’s for sure. Not just talking about stuff, but talking about Jesus, to Jesus, talking about talking to Jesus.

I do a lot of going, as well. I go to mass, I go to youth events, I go any place I can that I know He’ll be… anywhere except the silencey places.

I do a lot of jumping. I jump for Jesus in the mosh pits and on the streets and anywhere else… except the silencey places. Probably because you can’t really jump for Him there, can you?

So, it’s not that I don’t do stuff, because I do. It’s just that I don’t do all the stuff I should – and I know it… and so does Jesus, which is probably why He’s complaining about it.

I feel like part of my formation has been focussed on balance. For a long time, most of my relationship with God consisted of going to mass and praying before I went to bed. Then I found a charismatic Catholic group that I really enjoyed and responded to (if that makes no sense to you, charismatic Catholics are like Pentecostals that are… Catholic)… So, most of my faith life consisted of prayer. One day, I mentioned something to a friend of mine who’s a Baptist about something I read in the Bible. She made a quip about how little Catholics read the bible. I was taken aback, but I took it on board and since then, I’ve been trying to read as well as pray. Then I started talking (not just praying, but having a conversation with God), which I got good at… After that, I needed to learn how to listen to Him.

You get me? It’s all about balance.
You can’t have talking without listening and you can’t have prayer without reading the Word.

I’ve learnt how to jump and shout, now I need to learn how to sit and be still and quiet.

Ironically, I’ve also been feeling a lot like God wants me to write about these experiences… Talking about silence just seems like an amusing concept to me, but whatever. God knows what’s up. You’re more than welcome to join me on this journey into the silent realms. In fact, please do! Let me know how you go.

Either way, you’re about to hear a deafening silence.

“For God alone my soul waits in silence; from Him comes my salvation. He alone is my rock and my salvation, my fortress; I shall never be shaken.”
Psalm 62:1-2

Roses and Rosaries

My parents grow a rose garden together.
Well… It’s more of a bunch of pots with roses in them out the front of the house, not so much a huge, elaborate rose garden or anything. Nevertheless, they both enjoy the process of planting, waiting, pruning and admiring the roses that grow there. Grandma has a special devotion to the Virgin Mary. When Dad prunes the roses, he generally will give Grandma some to offer up to Mary.

As part of practicing silence and stillness, I’ve been trying to pray a rosary every day. Earlier this evening I asked Dad if he’d like to pray one with me. He said he would like to, but that he had to prune the roses. We combined the two. I would lead the rosary while he pruned the roses.

I had my eyes closed while we prayed. I was thinking about one of the promises of the rosary which is that Mary will grant you anything you ask for in the rosary (if it’s in God’s will). I kept on thinking how amazing that was, that she would recommend me to God, who would give me the best of the best and that she would always look out for me and take me under her wing… just because I had prayed and asked. Motherly love, everyone. It’s amazing!

When I opened my eyes at the end, I noticed all of these roses that Dad had thrown at my feet as we had been praying. They were gorgeous. I was so excited because I thought it meant that they were all for me. I started thinking of how I would arrange them and where in my room I would put them.

“Why don’t you take some of those into Grandma to give to Mary?” Dad said.

I looked up at him, “…But… I want some…”

“Well, you can have some. I’m sure Mary doesn’t mind you appreciating her Son’s creation.”

Then I stopped for a second. Mary would give me anything – anything. Just for praying with her. Who was I to begrudge her a few roses? I looked down at the growing pile of leaves, buds and blossoms. There were two purpleish coloured roses that were huge and beautiful. I loved them and I wanted them. Then Dad threw down some buds.

I picked up the two purple roses, “Should I take these ones into her?”

“Probably take the buds,” he responded, “the bigger ones won’t last very long.”

I started picking up all of the roses and organising them into a pile for me and a pile for Mary. No matter what I did, neither of them looked right as a bunch. At one stage, I picked up both of the piles in the same hand, so they were all together. I was struck by how beautiful they all looked together… because they were meant to be like that.

I decided to give Mary all the roses – even those two purple ones that I loved.

I spent the next while organising all of the roses into a bouquet for my Grandma’s vase. By the end, I couldn’t have fit anything else into it. My fingers are now pretty sore from all of the thorns, but it was worth it. My Grandad, who is a photographer, immediately went to get his camera when he saw the bunch of roses. Grandma asked me if I had my own Mary in my room that I wanted to give them to… I vaguely recalled having an old figurine that Mum gave me when I was about 6, but the flowers were for Grandma’s house, and that was that.

I went back outside to clean up all of the leaves when I found not just one, but six buds! I hadn’t noticed them before because they’d all looked like long pieces of leaves. I was so happy! I knew it was from Mary. I placed them in a little glass bottle which acted as a makeshift vase, and placed them in front of my little old figurine of Mary in my room.

Earthly sacrifice reaps Heavenly rewards.
Even if the earthly sacrifice is just a bunch of roses.

What can you offer up to God today?

Prayer of St Francis of Assisi
Lord, make me an instrument of Your peace. Where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; where there is sadness, joy.
O, Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love; For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; it is in dying that we are born again to eternal life.

Support System

When I was little, my dad took me to see the Princess Diaries.
Just us. (Heaven YEAH, it was cute)!

Except that dad didn’t tell me, a five year old, that we were going to the movies. He’s kind of British at times, so he said that we were going to the “pictures”. I had no idea what that meant. I assumed it meant that we were going to the museum and I was extremely unimpressed.

Dad stopped the car and we got out to walk across the road when this happened:

Dad: Siobhan, give me your hand.
Me: No! I don’t need to hold hands to cross the road any more. I’m a big girl! I’m this many! *holds up five fingers* I’m practically a woman now, okay? I want to go back home and play with my Barbies. 

So my father looked down at me with a mixture of amusement and confusion. Instead of arguing with me or forcing me to take his whole hand to walk across the street, he did something much wiser.

Dad: You’re so right. How could I not see how old you’re getting? How about, because you’re so big and responsible now, you just hold onto my little pinky? 

So I did that, because apparently that made me more grown up.

I tend to I find myself in a similar position to the one my dad was in. I just want to help people to get to the other side of the street. I know the way to get there. JUST TAKE MY HAND ALREADY. It came to my attention that even if I did have the answers that people were looking for, I wasn’t helping them at all by going about it that way.

I can only really give people the support they will allow me to give, and trying to give them more than that does more to harm them (and probably our relationship) than it does to help them.

While I was writing the last two paragraphs, it also occurred to me that this is probably how Jesus feels a lot of the time, too.

Sheesh.

Imagine being “the Way, the Truth and the Life” and the only way to God… and still having the patience and grace to give only what people allow you to give them… even after He willingly gave His everything on the cross.

Woah.

I wish I was more like that.

Anger Management

My dad is an interesting fellow.

When he is very, very angry… sometimes he starts to laugh.
You can imagine how confusing that is when you’re saying anything in an attempt to get out of a lecture and your father starts to chuckle. Often times, my brothers and I would attempt to ride this wave by saying something funny or witty to make him keep on laughing and therefore forget to get out of the consequences.
It never worked.
Ever.

We got the lecture. Then we were sent down the hall to “work on our problem”.
(See earlier blog on Forgiveness if you don’t understand that sentence).

This chuckling reaction happened a lot when I was a kid, but I’ve noticed that in more recent times, he has a completely different approach to handling conflict. When I am in full swing of my frustration and probably ranting or something, he closes his eyes and his mouth and starts praying.

IT’S SO ANNOYING SOMETIMES. YOU HAVE NO IDEA.

It’s also a powerful witness… He reminds me without saying anything that my behaviour is not Christ like by any means. It’s not until I can speak to him in a calm, rational manner without hurling insults that he’ll open up his eyes and mouth and begin working things out again.

Different people handle anger differently but I feel like I share a lot of similarities with my dear ol’ daddy-o…

Naturally, I have a quick temper and after that, quick regret.
To give you an idea, the last time I allowed myself to respond in this way, I threw two innocent music stands on the ground. It wasn’t across the room or anything, but they were once standing and then they were on the floor. I was instantly sorry. I admit I’m not proud of that and it wasn’t the best or brightest thing to do and certainly not something that I would do again.

I feel like, for me, this reaction is the childish option.

I remember being sent down the hall once as a kid and bursting into tears before I had even reached the end of it. I wailed and cried and asked my parents to forgive me.
Mum wiped away the tears, gave me a hug and said something to the effect of:

You’re a good girl because you know what you’ve done wrong and you’re quick to ask for forgiveness on it and dad and I can see that. We’ve noticed… but you need to be sorry before it happens. You need to think ahead next time.

(I have the best mum ever, by the way. Just saying.)

So I’ve tried to do that… I try to think before I speak when I offer criticism or express frustration. I’ve somewhat trained myself to explain directly and kindly that I am upset and what the reasons are for my feelings. At least, that’s how I understand adults deal with their emotions.

So that’s what I usually do. Sometimes, there are exceptions.

A teacher once told me that anger is never a primary emotion. I quite agree with her. I never actually read or watch something and just feel angry about it. It’s not that simple. I might feel hurt and confused or feel absolutely betrayed… then I might feel angry…

But what then?

Should I blast whoever has hurt me? Do I approach them, if they’re clearly confused about their feelings enough to try and attack me, even if I’m innocent? I mean, what would you do if you felt betrayed?

It’s times like these when I copy my dad. I shut my mouth, generally because if I open it I won’t say anything helpful or kind, and I pray instead. This doesn’t always make a lot of sense to other people and it can seem like I’m ignoring them or that I just hate them, but actually, I’m trying to love them in the only way I have left. I actively choose to not hurt them back. I hope and trust that in some way Christ can work through my silence and prayers to soften and strengthen whoever has hurt me and encourage them to come to a place where they are ready to make amends. Likewise, I hope and pray that if I have hurt someone, He will work through me to do the adult thing by apologising. Until then, there is the waiting game.

“Mistakes are always forgivable, if one has the courage to admit them” – Bruce Lee.