Loving our enemies is an essential aspect of the Christian life (Mt 5:44), but can be an elusive task for the modern mind.  Many of us have clearly defined psychological categories of those who are on our team and those who are against us, and we struggle to bridge the gap between the two.  Perhaps we “pray” for our enemies by explaining to the Lord how they need to be more like us, or by expressing gratitude that we are not like them (Lk 18:11), or maybe we just wallow in the happy bliss of denying that we have any enemies at all!  Nevertheless, the word enemy simply means “not a friend,” and if we are being honest, many of our friends are “not a friend” to us, and if we are being really honest, we are often “not a friend” to ourselves, and if we are being really really honest we are “not a friend” of God (Rom 5:10).  The good news, however, is that we are “not a friend” yet, and have been invited into a lifelong journey of establishing real and enduring points of contact with each other.  Indeed, for those who are open to the promptings of the divine Friend, the illusions will fall and we will savor the sweet process of welcoming our so-called enemies to our interior table (Rev 3:20).  Ave Crux, Spes Unica.

Deism is the practical theology of most well-meaning religious people in our society today.  For such ones, “God” is an abstraction, a vague force, who stands ambiguously on the edge of time manipulating the created order just enough to keep things going.  This “God” is like the absent parent who goes to work and pays the bill, but is not to be found at the dinner table, around the campfire, or hanging out in the den.  In the deistic household and culture, sacred spaces become containers for personalities, idols, and superstitious behavior.  Difficult conversations lose their spiritual point of reference and easily get out of control.  One’s sense of mission devolves into a self-contained advertising campaign that replaces identity with superficiality.  Mental obsessions emerge as hearts built for the infinite search in vain for meaning in the finite.  Simply put, there are many who cry “Lord, Lord,” but few who have the courage to actually encounter the Lord in the glorious immanence of the present moment (Mt 7:21-23).  In the week ahead, let’s make the move from cold deistic conviction to the risk of interior faith.  We shall discover the warmth of a loving father, the intimacy of a beloved friend, the peace of a living spirit, and a God who happily dwells in our flesh (Jn 1:14).  Ave Crux, Spes Unica.

I’m old school.  Give me a pen and a sheet of paper over a computer screen any day.  Let me run through the woods instead of pumping iron at the local gym.  You can listen to your podcast about the Bible all you want, but please allow me to pray on my knees.  A home-cooked meal is more appetizing to me than dinner at the fanciest restaurant in town.  My entire wardrobe fits into a single dresser drawer.  My Sunday routine does not include any work.  My car goes in for regular oil changes.  My bed gets made every morning.  Razor and shaving cream, thread and needle, open windows and blowing fans, my life demands proximity to the action and direct encounters with the truth.  Lord Jesus, lead me to that low place of self-understanding and teach me how to live an old school way of life; kindle my need for reality and strengthen my resolve to be authentic like you; may your infinite power and mercy help me to become comfortable in my own skin and embrace the simplicity of living, with you, one meaningful day at a time.  Ave Crux, Spes Unica.

Neediness is the scourge of the postmodern person.  A lack of openness to the transcendent and a reliance on the “self”—whatever that is—leads many of us to awkwardly grasp after people and things in order to feel safe, seen, and secure—yikes!  When we recognize our need for the living God, however, these relationships come into focus.  Our clutching fist, desperate for something to quite literally hold onto, is transformed into the open palm of companionship and communion.  Our spinning brain, obsessing about how we will stay psychologically afloat amidst the adversity and unpredictability of life, becomes a steadfast container for meaning and beauty.  Our neediness, in a word, is replaced by a wonderfully vital and human exigence, and our lives begin to move forward again.  In the week ahead, let’s obey the command of Jesus by releasing the people and things we have unwittingly taken captive (Lk 4:18).  We shall discover that a true need is nothing more than preparation for a gift from the fingertips of the one who is positively and constantly needy for our salvation (Mt 6:32).  Ave Crux, Spes Unica.