In Search of Grace
When I was younger we used to go to church every Sunday. Well, after going to CCD of course (Confraternity of the Catholic Doctrine).
Church was boring. Every time was the same. Sit, stand, sit, stand, kneel, sit, stand. Say a prayer, listen to the priest, say a prayer, listen to the priest, eat the bread and sip from the chalice!!, listen to the priest, say a prayer…you get the idea.
As a kid I kept myself entertained by bringing toys and exploring the dark undersides of the pews. As a teenager I sneaked books in and read. Only to inevitably be caught by mom. She would give me that look that only a Catholic mother can. The one that says, “It’d be better for you if Jesus was watching you right now instead of me.” So I’d put the book away and stare at the stain glass windows. edi
Growing older, I began to reject many of the notions preached by the Catholic church. I despise mandatory obligations. They are numerous between the regularly expected confessions and holy days. I feel crushed under the weight of guilt knowing at any moment I may have sinned.
I do not hate church nor do I regret going, though these experiences certainly tainted my impressions.
Some thoughts however, sticky but sweet memories from my days of sacraments and holy water, have stuck…
I had always heard “grace” used as an in-action verb. Someone was in the “state of grace.” In the church, this is positioned as though grace is a condition bestowed upon a person who’s fallen into favor with God.
I used to imagine a person in the state of grace glowed. They emitted some kind of warmth, talked to angels and maybe even performed minor miracles. Grace was tangible and raw yet pure and untouchable — something akin to the way painters depict saints and prophets — a living embodiment of someone or something larger than life.
Turns out this wasn’t far from the truth.
Grace is a state. This the church did understand. It is a state of excellence — an excellence of being.
The illusion came in saying it is bestowed. It is not.
Grace is born in struggle. It arrives with the surprise in survival. Thinking, ‘the worst has happened, and I’m still here.’ When observed, struggle is what shows us our strength.
Grace is molded in overcoming adversity. When, even after faltering, we press on. Struggle reveals strength. Adversity reveals conviction.
Grace is wielded with humility. That, despite surviving struggles and overcoming adversity, the ego is not allowed to grow.
As I observe those people in my life who represent grace to me. These attributes reoccur.
There is an energy, be it divine or otherwise, surrounding graceful beings. They permeate confidence that is not vain, but sure. They create havens which are not stifling, but safe. They walk the earth as giants, influencing everything in their path — they walk the earth as guardian phantoms, leaving no trace of ever having been.
Could I have discovered grace without church? I’m sure the same concepts would manifest themselves in other ways.
Still, church acted as a medium to introduce the idea. And even though I’ve not continued down the path many Catholics would deem ‘devout,’ I am thankful for the role the church has played in my life.
Every experience is a chance to learn.
Every second is a chance to further uncover the secrets of grace.
