First Friday

I look forward to First Fridays, when we have an hour of Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament at our little parish. It brings peace to sit before our Lord. The smell of incense lingers in the hush of the church, sunlight filters through stained glass and prayer candles gently flicker. If I arrive there with questions in my soul, I find His presence brings quick answers. He is generous in this way, allowing His wisdom to enter me. Here is what I wrote in my journal Friday while sitting with Him:

It is far better to be one with the Creator - to seek His face - rather than the creation. We so often seek the creation in this world, often without recognizing we have placed what we desire in God's place. It is Him alone we must seek. All else must flow from this: marriage, children, friendships, family, housing, jobs, ministry, interests, material goods, secret desires, even paths of spirituality.

He is our sun. We cannot exist without Him. I can see why the ancient Irish monks chose this symbol for Him. Without Him, there is no life. He is the center of our universe. All is dependent upon Him. His goodness is like the warm rays of light - visible and palpable - that break through clouds and dark forests, revealing what is real but often not seen. His mercy is like the warmth on one's face when turned upward toward the sun, and His grace is like the effect of the light that makes plants grow, thereby nourishing our world through a vast chain reaction.

Like sunlight on plants, His grace enters our lives, poured on us in endless quantities, nourishing our souls. When we pass this on to others, we cause unknown chain reactions of God's mercy, goodness, grace and salvation in the lives of those we affect, perhaps in quantities as great as atomic energy. (In other words, the movement of grace.)

Similarly, one bad choice can set off a chain reaction in negative ways. We run from the Lord - I imagine racing away on a bicycle - and when we tumble, we must limp back to Him. Because our God is one of second chances, He doesn't want us to wallow in our mistakes; He wants to help us get it right. Our bicycles may be battered and twisted from our fall, but He makes them ridable again. He heals our bumps and bruises.

If I am journeying on my bicycle, I want Jesus as my pilot. I invite Him to sit on my handlebars, telling me which way to go. I pray I may see the encouragement of His strong back before my eyes. Decisions about direction are to be His, not mine. I need only watch, listen, seek and follow.

I have returned again to the place in my heart when I first asked Jesus to be the driver, to take His rightful place in the front seat at the wheel of my life.