Passages

Living Our Passages Well I love this simple, thought-provoking reflection by Henri Nouwen.  What passage are you going through at the moment? Death is a passage to new life.  That sounds very beautiful, but few of us desire to make this passage.  It might be helpful to realise that our final passage is preceded by many earlier passages.  When we are born we make a passage from life in the womb to life in the family.  When we go to school we make a passage from life in the family to life in the larger community.  When we get married we make a passage from a life with many options to a life committed to one person.  When we retire we make a passage from a life of clearly defined work to a life asking for new creativity and wisdom.    Each of these passages is a death leading to new life.  When we live these passages well, we are becoming more prepared for our final passage.

Trusting our Fruitfulness, Whether We See It or Not

Trusting in the Fruits A reflection from Henri Nouwen which gave me peace We belong to a generation that wants to see the results of our work.  We want to be productive and see with our own eyes what we have made.  But that is not the way of God's Kingdom.  Often our witness for God does not lead to tangible results.  Jesus himself died as a failure on a cross.  There was no success there to be proud of.  Still, the fruitfulness of Jesus' life is beyond any human measure.  As faithful witnesses of Jesus we have to trust that our lives too will be fruitful, even though we cannot see their fruit.  The fruit of our lives may be visible only to those who live after us. What is important is how well we love.  God will make our love fruitful, whether we see that fruitfulness or not.

Letting Go

I love this from Father Richard Rohr:

What does letting go on the practical level tell us? Letting go is different than denying or repressing. To let go of something is to admit it. You have to own it. Letting go is different than turning it against yourself; different than projecting it onto others. Letting go means that the denied, repressed, rejected parts of yourself, which are nonetheless true, are seen for what they are; but you refuse to turn them against yourself or against others. This is not denial or pretend, but actual transformation. The religious word for this letting go is forgiveness. You see the imperfect moment for what it is, and you hand it over to God. You refuse to let any negative storyline or self-serving agenda define your life. This is a very, very different way of living; it implies that you see your mistakes, your dark side, but you do not identify with either your superiority or your inferiority. Forgiveness is of one piece. Those who give it can also receive it. Those who receive it can pass forgiveness on. You are a conduit, and your only job is not to stop the flow. What comes around will also go around. The art of letting go is really the secret of happiness and freedom. Adapted from The Art of Letting Go (CD) Prayer: May I learn to let go.

Carrying The Olympic Flame

There was one moment that stood out for me from the many moving moments of the opening ceremony of the Olympics. It was the lighting of the Olympic torch. It didn't go the way we thought it would. There was no one special person selected to light it. There were many vessels that received the light and passed it on to others. As each connected, a circle of light was formed. Then each light was raised, as we will someday be. As they were lifted up, each individual light came together to form one light, one Olympic cauldron as a symbol for all to see.

 Only after the flame was lit did we begin to understand the brass vessels we had seen being carried so carefully in gloved white hands as the athletes from each participating country entered the arena. They were symbols of what each country held and carried to these world games: the best of their athletes. But they seemed to also be symbols of our souls, held and carried so tenderly by God, lit with His eternal flame which we pass along to those near us, igniting a global, growing Christic consciousness that we may never be able to fully understand or see until we view it from above. "E pluribus unum,"  a Latin phrase on the currency of the United States along with In God We Trust, translates from the many, one. One light. One world. One God. Indivisible. With liberty and justice for all. We saw each carrier of an Olympic torch dial it open to keep the flame lit. May we remember to do the same with our hearts to be enflamed with the fire of God's love. As others connect with us, a circle of love will be form around the world that will pierce its darkness with divine, healing light. It is not only time for the Olympics. It is time to hold up the light of our shared divinity, the power of God's love for the world to behold. It probably won't go the way we think it will. There will be no one special person who makes it happen. All we have to do is carry the light so others can see it and connect to it. God will raise it up. It will be inspiring to watch.

Being Like Jesus

Very often we distance ourselves from Jesus.  We say, "What Jesus knew we cannot know, and what Jesus did we cannot do."  But Jesus never puts any distance between himself and us.   He says:  "I call you friends, because I have made known to you everything I have learnt from my Father" (John 15:15) and  "In all truth I tell you, whoever believes in me will perform the same works as I do myself, and will perform even greater works"  (John 14:12).

Indeed, we are called to know what Jesus knew and do what Jesus did.  Do we really want that, or do we prefer to keep Jesus at arms' length?

 

A Miracle Inside the Aurora Shooting: One Victim’s Story

Shared from Brad Strait's Celtic Strait blog:

http://bstrait.wordpress.com/2012/07/22/a-miracle-inside-the-the-aurora-shooting-one-victims-story/

Posted on July 23, 2012

Shooting Victim Petra Anderson

At Columbine, I have seen this before. But not up close.  As a church pastor in Denver, I have worked as a chaplain with several police and fire departments. I was privileged to counsel parents just hours after the Littleton Columbine shootings. However, in this new tragedy at the Aurora Theater Dark Night shooting, one of the victims was a 22 year old woman from my church, Petra Anderson (pronounced Pay-tra). Petra went to the movies with two young friends who are biking across America.  You and I have been inundated with news about what happened next. A joyful movie turned into bloody, unbelievable chaos. Petra was hit four times with a shot-gun blast, three shots into her arm and one bullet which entered her brain. This a bit of Petra’s miracle story.

With awesome people from our caring and pastoral team, I spent all day Friday in the ICU with Petra and her family. Her injuries were severe, and her condition was critical. A bullet had entered Petra’s face through her nose, and then traveled up through her brain until stopping at the back of her skull. The doctors prior to surgery were concerned, because so much of the brain had been traversed by the bullet. Many areas of brain function were involved. They were hoping to keep her alive long enough to get her into surgery. The prognosis was uncertain—if she lived, Petra might struggle with speech, movement, and thinking due to considerable brain damage. With Kim, Petra’s mother (who is in the final stages of terminal cancer), we simply cried, hugged, and prayed.

It is pressed into my memory now. Motion and emotion…

Other families come and go into the ICU waiting room. Some sit with us, and we talk. Others are visited by doctors with “Family Advocates” in tow. The families listen, sob, and then are moved like stunned cattle to a more private space to grieve. We pray. Petra is finally taken into surgery, using two different surgical teams. One team of neurosurgeons will open up the back of her skull to remove the bullet and clean up brain damage as best they can. Another ENT-specialty surgical team will then work through Petra’s nose by scope to follow the bullet’s path up into her brain.  Their hope is to remove bone fragments, clean up damaged brain tissue, and reseal her brain to reduce infection.

If you have lived any of your days in a hospital waiting room, you know how long the enduring process is. It has a woeful pattern to it. Sit. Walk. Grab a drink. Sit. Walk. Answer a phone call. Sit. Walk. Hug someone. Sit. Talk to the FBI. Sit. Pick at the food. Sit. Walk. Go down the hall, but not too far because you’re afraid to miss something. Back. Hug. Pray. Sit. Sit. A picture of a five year old waiting for next Christmas from January 1^st comes to my mind. FOREVER. Only this feels worse: a heavy forever, with no promise of presents, Santa, or good news at the end.

Petra Anderson and her world class violin.

After the waiting drags for over five hours, tired doctors and nurses spill back into the room, one or two at a time. I look for “Family Advocates” but can find none. I exhale. The doctors update us: “It went well, and she’s recovering now. We found very little damage to the brain, and got the bullet out cleanly. It went better than we hoped for.” Each brings a warrior’s smile, and a bit of information—information that we turn into hope as we regurgitate it over the next hours.  Still, the medical team remains professional and reserved, “Something might still go wrong. We just need to wait and see if she makes it for the next 48 hours.”
Tears and thank you’s abound. We are so thankful for these men and women. We hug. Everyone hugs. Then, round two. Sit. Wait. Pray. Fully dressed people cuddle into small snails and try to sleep on the floor. Some are shuttled to a room donated by the Holiday Inn across the street. Thank you, Lord, for every little thing. We sit. We pray. “We’ll understand better tomorrow.”

Petra is moved back to ICU. She looks, surprisingly, wonderful. With a small hole in her nose, and her arm wrapped, she almost looks uninjured. She is medicated and sleeping when I come to visit her on Saturday. I sit, talk, and pray quietly with Kim amid the darkened room, lit by glowing medical screens and power switches. Nurses, like quiet soldiers posted on guard, come in, march attentively through the machines, and go out.  These men and women really care. Finally, one of the surgeons comes in to check on Petra. He has had some sleep, and looks more like a movie star this time. As Petra sleeps, he retells the story of the surgery, and we ask questions.  The doctor reads the perfect script, as if he is on Hallmark Hall of Fame. He fills us in on the miracle. Honestly, he doesn’t call it that, he just uses words like “happily” and “wonderfully” and “in a very fortunate way” and “luckily” and “we were really surprised by that.”  Kim and I know a miracle when we see it.

It seems as if the bullet traveled through Petra’s brain without hitting any significant brain areas. The doctor explains that Petra’s brain has had from birth a small “defect” in it. It is a tiny channel of fluid running through her skull, like a tiny vein through marble, or a small hole in an oak board, winding from front to rear.  Only a CAT scan would catch it, and Petra would have never noticed it.

But in Petra’s case, the shotgun buck shot, maybe even the size used for deer hunting, enters her brain from the exact point of this defect. Like a marble through a small tube, the defect channels the bullet from Petra’s nose through her brain. It turns slightly several times, and comes to rest at the rear of her brain. And in the process, the bullet misses all the vital areas of the brain. In many ways, it almost misses the brain itself.  Like a giant BB though a straw created in Petra’s brain before she was born, it follows the route of the defect. It is channeled in the least harmful way. A millimeter in any direction and the channel is missed.  The brain is destroyed. Evil wins a round.
As he shares, the doctor seems taken aback. It is an odd thing to have a surgeon show a bit of wonder. Professionally, these guys own the universe, it seems, and take everything in stride. He is obviously gifted as a surgeon, and is kind in his manner. “It couldn’t have gone better. If it were my daughter,” he says quietly, glancing around to see if any of his colleagues might be watching him, “I’d be ecstatic. I’d be dancing a jig.” He smiles. I can’t keep my smile back, or the tears of joy. In Christianity we call it prevenient grace: God working ahead of time for a particular event in the future. It’s just like the God I follow to plan the route of a bullet through a brain long before Batman ever rises. Twenty-two years before.

While we’re talking, Petra awakes. She opens her eyes, and sits up, “Mom.” Movie-star doctor spins to grab her, to protect her from falling. The nurse assures him she’s been doing this for a while. He talks to her, and she talks back. He asks questions, and Petra has the right answers. “Where do you hurt, Petra?” “All over.” Amazed, but professional, he smiles and leaves the set shaking his head. I am so thankful for this man.
Petra is groggy and beat up, but she is herself. Honestly, I look worse before my morning coffee. “I’m thirsty,” she proclaims.

“You want an ice cube, honey?” Kim replies.

“Please.”  Wow. She lays down, back to sleep, a living miracle who doesn’t even know it yet. Good flowering out of the refuse pile of a truly dark night. “Thank you, Jesus,” I whisper.

Kim and her daughter.

Petra, you are amazing. Kim, you, too, are amazing. I am so proud of you both. But God, you are in a league of your own. (Duh.)

There is much ahead. More surgerys. Facial reconstruction, perhaps. And for Kim, chemo therapy to stretch every moment out of life. But life remains.The ending is yet to be written for this family.

One final note: I am told Petra will take her first steps today. Time for the miracle to go for a walk.
Kim and Petra need our help. For more on the Andersons, or to help with their medical costs, please visit here. This is a great site.

Oh my God

Oh my God, I stand before your majesty in awe and wonder as you swirl the colors of this day's sunrise before me on the clouds. How softly you kiss them, as if to say to anyone watching, "Come! I have kisses for you, too!"

Effortless and constant are your creative powers. They still my soul into silent admiration and bliss. I cannot imagine life with you once freed from the confines of this human body, but my soul senses the ecstasy and peace in wispy, wavy moments like this one as I stand before the waters of the sea and the transmuting colors of your sky. Teach me to read better your messages each day. Sharpen my powers of observation and understanding so my heart hears and learns Your pace, Your messages, Your directives.

I am so obtuse, my spiritual senses so dull. I want to be led by You and I feel like Helen Keller, deaf, dumb, and blind to all You dangle before me to entertain, please, direct, and console me. I do feel You though, my wonderful Counselor. I feel Your soft, warm caress in this morning's breeze off the Bay causing me to lift my face to You. I do hear You in an inner voice that eggs me on when my body wearies under the day's burdens. How long will it take for us to evolve as Your people until we see You in each other's eyes, until we hear You in each other's voices, until we forgive each other for the actions we take when we have tuned You out and refused to listen to Your Word, Your guidance, Your truth?

 This could be heaven right here, right now, like the Star Trek episode where all the planet's people walked around in blissful agape love for one another... You are so patient, Your love endlessly enduring while we, this current generation, move like all the others through our life cycles, with our scientists listening in deep space for anything far less satisfying or stimulating than exists in the very center of their being; with our poor still being ignored and devalued ( let's put us women in that category, too); our leaders not knowing which advisors to listen to and heed as they evict the Evil One who has tricked others into compromising their connection and power with You, leaving your mansion to live in his slums. This could be heaven right now.

 I think I understand why the mullets jump. We see them only for a moment out of the water. The really entertaining ones, the ones that capture our attention, jump three, four, five times in a row like a skipping stone. We humans are to emulate the ways of Your creation. We must jump out of our comfort zones every once in a while and make our voices heard, or poems read; our music played, or art displayed; our theorems understood or strength displayed to do our part to bring us all together, one nation under You with liberty and love and justice for all.

Countercultural

After the storm...a fresh start to a new day!  How great are thy works, O Lord! "...the bonding of human beings with the grace of God is the heart of personal prayer and contemplation. "It is the letting-go of control to become a vessel of reconciliation and transformation...totally countercultural, and yet at the same time it is perhaps the single most practical thing in the postmodern world.". David G. R. Keller from Spirituality, Contemplation & Transformation: Writings on Centering Prayer I love being countercultural!

Integrity of leadership

In August, 2011, Bryan Cones, the Managing Editor of U.S. Catholic, wrote the following in his op-ed page in an article titled: "The buck stops where?" The topic was the issue of hierarchical responsibility in the sex abuse scandal in the Catholic Church. "No amount of apologies or prayer and fasting in penance for sex abuse will make up for the fact that too many bishops have simply shown themselves incompetent to lead on this matter. After $2 billion in settlements, 10 years in crisis mode, and decades of suffering by victims, there can be no more excuses. Any bishop who has failed to respond appropriately to allegations of child sex abuse must simply resign, and all levers of pressure, from the pope to other bishops, from the police to protesters, must be applied until they do." I have been in a leadership position for over twenty years with a major international direct selling company. I know and live by the principles of leadership with integrity and honesty. It is not easy at times, but I accept the responsibility implicit in my leadership role and I accept and trust the leader of my company. Trust is at risk in our church because some of our bishops have exhibited poor adaptive skills to the sex abuse crisis. Their lack of ownership of their implicit responsibility, and their inability to contain the level of disequilibrium through poor decision making has destabilized the church. When power is abused by anyone in office, accountability is demanded by those they lead, or a disconnect and rebellion occurs. "To build trust, we need to know what generates it. Trust in authority relationships is a matter of predictability along two dimensions: values and skill. Quite sensibly, people often expect consistent, predictable values and problem-solving skills from their authorities. Without a large measure of predictability in social life, civilization itself would not be possible," writes Ronald Heifetz in Leadership without Easy Answers. "Authorities are expected to be competent in providing protection, direction, and order in the interests of their constituents," he continues, although not on the topic of church leadership per se. Both the values and skills of these bishops should be severely questioned and acted upon. It should be predictable that an inability to lead honestly and with integrity, especially in a power position within the church of Christ, would lead to a removal from office or at the very least, a probationary period in which the leader is given a chance to reflect on his poor resolution of the conflict he had a responsibility to act upon for the protection of all the sheep in their fold. I'm not sure a resignation is the answer. But I am sure that some form of public demotion and a period of reflection, discernment, and humble service for restitution for the poor judgments or avoidance of proper action needs to take place. In that regard, I am in full agreement with Mr. Cones. We, the church at large, bear responsibility to keep the pressure on the bishops who have covered up the actions of pedophiles, or who have transferred them to new areas where they can do additional harm. There must be accountability and restitution to prevent the church from losing all trust in its leadership and cocooning. We must not give the Evil One any more room for another foothold. We must not allow them to be tempted to continue "business as usual." That said, I continue to support and pray for all priests and the holiness of their vocation.

The Will to Choose our Actions

"By their actions (they) have been turned into animals."     In my online contemplative community, we are reading through Cynthia Bourgeault's book, The Wisdom Jesus. The above comment referenced the crowd's sadistic cruelty against Jesus

in the mob scene on the road to Calvary. It is true that our actions lead us (and others).  I'm fairly certain we have all had the experience of joining in some kind of activity with others that carried us further than we intended to go.  What struck me with this phrase was a memory from Gerald May's Will and Spirit which we studied long ago in an earlier version of this community. Before the actions, we always have the choice of will to take such actions, or having taking action, we can exercise the will to stop such.   The power of our actions - both from our strengths and weaknesses - are mighty signs to others. This is where our praxis such as the Jesus Prayer, Guard of the Heart, or Divine Mercy chaplet can come to our aid in forming/containing/correcting our will to be that of God's.  So aligned, our actions will keep us like little lambs.... like the Lamb of God.   We know all too well the brutal bestiality of the Prince of Darkness who reigns across many lands and peoples in our world today as well as the past.  May we all hold strong to our inner responsibility. I read only this morning in St. Faustina's Diary, Divine Mercy in My Soul, of Jesus asking her to save a certain dying sinner by saying the chaplet He taught her.  She "saw the man dying in the midst of terrible torment and struggle.  His Guardian Angel was defending him, but he was, as it were, powerless against the enormity of the soul's misery. A multitude of devils was waiting for the soul.  But while I was saying the chaplet, I saw Jesus just as He is depicted in the image. The rays which issued from Jesus' Heart enveloped the sick man, and the powers of darkness fled in panic.  The sick man peacefully breathed his last.   When I came to myself, I understood how vey important the chaplet was for the dying. "

Time to Stop Being a Drip.

Drip.

We image God as if we created Him instead of vice versa.  We look for ways He is like us as parents look for signs of themselves in their children.  He tolerates all this.  He waits for us to shift our focus from ourselves to others, and ultimately to Him.

Drip.

We are afraid of love because it is so big.  We close ourselves off from it like a faucet on a sink.  When we get brave or curious, we turn the handle on our heart a tiny twist to open enough for a small drip into the world.

Drip. 

Drips can be annoying after a while. Drip.  Drip. Drip.  That's all most of us do.  Drip on one another.  You can't wash your face very well with a few drips of water nor soothe a parched soul or heart thirsting for love.

We need to collectively open our faucets and let the love within us - which God endlessly supplies - pour out upon the parched earth and all who live upon it.  We need a flood of love that will sweep evil off its feet with a current fast and strong to prevent it from being able to pull itself out.  The flood is coming. This time, it is water of life, not of death.  Be not afraid.  Open your faucets!  Open your heart! 

The land and its people are parched.  You can bring them refreshment.  Open and let the water of life pour over you and into the world.  The water and Word do the work.  You simply open your heart... and stop being a drip.

The Inner Glaze

To keep us from the sin of pride - Satan's sin - God, the Potter, often prevents us from seeing our own beauty with an inner glaze that becomes more and more beautiful as He applies the heat.

Nothing to gain? Hardly.

Cynthia Bourgeault The Wisdom Jesus: Transforming Heart and Mind—a New Perspective on Christ and His Message, Boston: Shambhala, 2008, pg. 92

"I remember being struck many years ago by an insight from the contemporary mystic Bernadette Roberts that crucifixion wasn’t really the hard thing for Jesus; the hard thing was incarnation. Crucifixion and what followed from it—his death and resurrection—were simply the pathway along which infinite consciousness could return to its natural state. What was really hard for infinite consciousness was to come into the finite world in the first place. With nothing to gain from the human adventure—nothing to prove, nothing to achieve, and a dangerously unboundaried heart that left him defenseless against the hard edges of this world—Jesus came anyway: that, claims Bernadette Roberts, was the real crucifixion!"

I differ with Cynthia's statement that there was nothing to gain from the human adventure of Jesus'
 incarnating.  Perhaps she's viewing it as nothing to gain in human terms.  As any parent with difficult children, God tried many methods, prophets, and approaches to establish a warm and loving relationship with His people.  The incarnation of Jesus had much to gain:  Love expressing Love to itself (Son to Father, Father to Son to mankind); courtship of a relationship beyond casual dating with each of us, or getting noticed at all by some of us; and of course, salvation for all mankind for all time.

Used

I am most grateful for answered prayer.

Years ago, I prayed that God would use me in any way He saw fit.  After molding and shaping me, the Potter finally had a vessel He could fill and pour out.  I'm still pretty leaky, but I am learning to tip myself over and pour myself out like the Little Teapot when the Holy Spirit gives me a nudge to do so.

One recent morning as I was reading my morning devotional, (Diary of St. Faustina: Divine Mercy In My Soul), I had the distinct impression that the passage I just completed should be shared with a particular friend.  I did not have this friend on my mind.  Her name was simply pressed upon my consciousness in reference to the last passage.  I tried to move ahead, yet this pressing of her name and that passage continued.

Since the Potter takes His time shaping his works, I knew from past experience this pressing upon my consciousness was His touch.  I therefore wrote her name in the book at that passage to mark it, and finished my reading.  I moved to the next book I needed to read that morning. A deadline within the hour was fast approaching to initiate my weekly Book Club discussion.  As I began the reading assignment, I was aware that I had not acted on the Spirit's urging to share that one passage with my friend.  I found no solace in rationalizing that I didn't have the time at the moment.  So in my usual reluctant obedience, I placed the call.  Thankfully, she did not answer and I was able to complete my reading in time.

When she returned the call later that day, I read her the passage.  In tears, she acknowledged she'd been shut down to God, to the Church, even questioning her conversion, and that I was the only one at the moment she was letting "in."

"See how God is responding to you?" I reassured her.  How very special she must be to Him and how easily He knew how to reach her through the vessel He crafted with His own hands for that very purpose.

Sometimes, it is very lovely being used.

Tornadoes and Matthew 24

3-3-12   Journal entry:
Tornadoes are touching down all around us today.  Sixty people have died in the past 24 hours from multiple tornadoes across six states.  It seems to me, as I view media images of homes that are destroyed next to homes taht were untouched, that we are witnessing a precursor to Matthew 24... Then two will be in the field; one will be taken and one will be left. ...

Hidden Greatness

From Henri Nouwen, Bread for the Journey There is much emphasis on notoriety and fame in our society. Our newspapers and television keep giving us the message: What counts is to be known, praised, and admired, whether you are a writer, an actor, a musician, or a politician. Still, real greatness is often hidden, humble, simple, and unobtrusive. It is not easy to trust ourselves and our actions without public affirmation. We must have strong self-confidence combined with deep humility. Some of the greatest works of art and the most important works of peace were created by people who had no need for the limelight. They knew that what they were doing was their call, and they did it with great patience, perseverance, and love.

Tax Forms and the Gloria

Journal entry Feb.1, 2012

I cannot find my Lectio journal so this will have to do.  Even my pen runs out as I write this.  Evil will not have its way… I will not be held back from sharing the Word of God.  The more Evil fights against me, the stronger becomes my resolve.

He tried hard this past weekend.  I received a complete rewrite of my speech just minutes before an audio check rehearsal in Baltimore at Spring Launch.  With the help of a friend, I edited the original speech after rejecting the proposed version from corporate headquarters.  The speech improved over my original.  God is always to be trusted.

I’m reading through YOUCAT (Youth Catechism of the Catholic Church).  In John 14:10, Jesus says: “The words I say to you I do not speak on my own authority; but the Father who dwells in me does his works.”

I am often aware of the Trinity within me as the driving force of my actions, thoughts, and words.

I awoke today and thought of the tax form 1099 I must complete and mail – unsure of how to do so – and beneath those thoughts, I became aware of singing.  I think it was the Gloria and Who was singing isn’t exactly clear to me (my soul? angels? Jesus?) nor do I need to know.  With God dwelling within me, my spirit and all of heaven should (and possibly can’t help) praise Him, three in One. 

               

Imagine!  Tax forms and the Gloria sharing the same space within me!

Foolish Thinking

You're a fool if you think God has no interest in you.  He's crazy about you.

Just as too much rain can drown a budding seedling, God holds back from giving too much of Himself at first, treating us softly, tenderly at our first awakening. He is so close to us, closer than our breath, that we often don't even notice Him.  He only prunes us when we shoot our leaves into another flower's sunlight or try to grow in the wrong direction.  Most of the time, we don't even recognize Him pruning because He often uses those closest to us to do so.  Again, the gentle lover, He doesn't want to come across too strong.

"God has placed in our hearts a longing to seek and find Him.  St. Augustine says, 'You have made us for yourself and our heart is restless until it rests in You.' A person is not completely himself until he has found God." [YOUCAT 3 (Youth Catechesm of the Catholic Church)]