Monday, May 14, 2018

Thunder



Thunder



Thunder



Thunder





Thunder



Thunder


Thunder

May 14, 2018
Santiago

What a pure gift my pilgrimage has been.  I am humbled and overflowing with gratitude for all of the ways God has brought people into my life before, during, and presently at this holy shrine. I’ve spent a great time in reflection on how I will end this blog. Here is my story. Here is my heart. Here, our call to God’s whispers in our soul. Allow me a brief personal history.

My call to walk my first Camino came during intimate prayer time. March 23, 2012 was the first surprise. I won’t go into the detail, but somewhere during contemplation I had a moment when the Camino burst into my awareness.  I could go on and on about the moment, but the most precious experience from that spiritual experience was a mighty and certain and heart-compelling moment when I heard God speak to me. Well, it was more like a power embedded in a whisper. It came in two words, “Have faith.”

This has been a prayer mantra for me every day since.  It empowered not only my first Camino. It has pushed me in ministry to do what I never thought I could ever do. It has been a force to go beyond myself. And, it came in His mighty whisper, “Have faith.”

I returned from that Camino so humbled and grateful to share the insights and experiences of life while on a 500 mile walking pilgrimage. I thought it was a one and done deal. Two years later in fall 2015, again during a deep moment in prayer, a new whisper drifted powerfully into my spirit. I can only say that God spoke to me to return to the Camino, again. Yep, I was being called to walk all 500 miles again. He whispered these irresistible words into my soul, “I have so much more to tell you.” I know full well what this means.

After serious prayer, my wife and I agreed that I was to accept God’s call. I walked the Camino and His offer was so cherished. I do so love the uninterrupted time to reflect on His goodness while walking in all His breath-taking creation. It is the 24/7 silence and uninterrupted prayer I grew to treasure. His whispered offer was abundantly made true. When I “shut up and listen” there is room for listening for more of Him.

Returning from the second pilgrimage was to be my last. What more could God want me to gain while walking again? My life ambition is to complete a book of my Camino experiences. I was 13 chapters into the book when some life demands put the writing on hold. When I tried to return to the writing, my memory of Camino faded with the two year hiatus.

The God of surprises had a new calling for me to walk the last 200 miles of the Camino from Leon to Santiago.  This took on a serious discernment. I was older, and I well knew the sacrifice of what was ahead. Leaving my precious wife for three weeks was a big sacrifice. However, when God calls, I must listen. And listen I did, to yet another compelling God whisper captured in these words, “Catch the thunder.”

That might sound odd to most, but it strikes a profound note in my heart of hearts. You see, I have a riveted inspiration in St. James and his brother, St. John. Jesus found something enduring about them enough to provide a nickname for them in Mark 3, “Men of Thunder.” To say that the idea of those boys being identified with something as bold as thunder can only suggest that there must have been nothing timid about them. Thunder is loud, it announces something bigger ahead, it is attention-getting, it makes one stop and listen. Thunder is power.

Can you see how this out of nowhere God whisper, “Catch the thunder” would arrest my attention? I was completely consumed in this new calling.

That’s a bit of the history. Now the best part. It is May 13, 2018. I am vested as a deacon and about to serve on the altar at the Cathedral of Santiago, my thunderous hero.

Who would have known what would happen on this day, and only at this pilgrim mass. It is a special celebration of Feast of the Ascension, and yes, St. James, my hero, “man thunder” is being paraded among the faithful as the one who was faithful to Christ as He arose at the Ascension. The image of St. James was leading us in worship of the One whom he followed, served, and was beheaded in faithfulness (Acts 12:2) The service was to honor Jesus, but the life example of James was leading our way.

For my whole life, I will never forget this moment. I vested with six priests and another deacon from Portugal, praise God, he spoke Spanish and English. He and I led the procession immediately behind a glass encased bust of St. James resting on long, horizontal, wood poles that secured it. Four men carried the bust of the apostle's image on their shoulders.  In front of them was a male cantor with a professional and deep voice leading song. Before him was a small band of bassoons and French horns. This blared a melody I never before or would have imagined played together so commandingly.  Filling the musical air above the band and singing was one of Europe’s prized pipe organs. Known for its 200 plus pipes, its notes rattled fifty foot high arches built in the year 1078 (that’s more 400 years before Columbus!)

Now the wow part- the ritual of the Botafumeiro, the giant incensor that stands three and half foot tall by two foot wide was ignited. The eight servers prepared this silver vessel carrying flaming coals and billowing clouds of incense,  hoisted this "spreader of fumes"  allowing it to swing like a pendulum fifty feet to one side of church nearly fifty feet to the cathedral's ceiling. The free swinging movement allowed it to raced with speed and momentum fifty feet to the other side and another fifty feet to the ceiling on the other side of the church. It was spellbinding. 

Now imagine being in the procession while the botafumeiro was roaring just eight feet over your head?  The silver vessel gleamed from the raging charcoal flames inside and the spewing cloud of incense.  I stood directly beneath this with my mouth agape while sweet-smelling incense sifted from above for me to breath in. It was such a rare gift.

In front of this small band was one tall young man carrying a long silver staff.  In a perfect cadence to the progression of music and all behind him in procession, he would stop with all going silent. He would then pound the staff dramatically on the marble floor. Its sound was a startling distinction, alarming, and demanded attention. After a short pause, the ensemble would continue.

This procession within the Cathedral of Santiago thundered with song, music, organ pipes so loud the notes rattled in your chest. The sharp striking of the staff echoing off the ceiling and reverence of nearly 2000 worshipers leaning over for photos was all too humbling. My senses were on overload so I worked so hard to memorize everything I saw, heard, and smelt.  

Then an inspiration laced in emotion washed over me while taking in all I was experiencing during this service. I can but describe it as something from the Holy Spirit. Do I dare call it a holy thunder? It rolled above me, behind me, around me, beneath me, while encircling me. As one of the first in the procession, I was catching thunder deep in my soul. I stole a quick flashback to my God whisper. Yes, yes, yes! This was the gift He had planned for me in His whisper, “Catch the thunder.” God's timing is perfect. It's never early, never late. His perfect timing allowed me to experience a holy thunder, body and spirit, in the Cathedral of Santiago and on the Feast of the Ascension! 

I am profoundly humbled. I am blessed. I am loved. I am His.

When I step back and look at this whole history of God whispers and His calling me to the Camino, a new insight is born. I string all three together: “Have faith, I have so much more to tell you. Catch the Thunder.”

These are three pearls of grace I do not take lightly. Nor should we ever take the graces God puts in our life lightly. Though some might read this final reflection and think, “Well, that’s nice for you, but I’ve never had that. God doesn’t speak to me. I’ve never had a God whisper.”
I get it. I can only share my truth in hopes it leads you to find truth in your journey of faith.

That point made, let me make some things clear. Hearing God’s call is an infrequent gift to me. I seek it, but I don’t get these callings regularly. God whispers are undeniable, but they are not for me every day, every week, or every month experiences. These experiences are graces God offers as He chooses. There is no spiritual cause and effect routine for receiving them.

However, there are some things on my part in which I can cooperate with grace. There are even some things I can do to be more receptive to receiving His grace. I feel compelled to offer these.

Four for Our Camino:
First, I must have the desire to hear God speak to me. Sounds simple, but there are times I’m not honestly sure I want to hear Him tell me to do something different than what I’m enjoying right then.  I might say I desire to hear God speak, but I don’t allow myself to be in a spiritual posture to receive it. Sometimes I find myself resistant, so I pray that God would give me the desire to desire whatever He wants to speak to my heart. That’s right, desire the desire. That is a prayer posture that starts a new momentum in a spiritual quagmire of me, me, me.

Second, once I’ve prayed for the desire, I need to examine my own conscience.  I ask, is there some unconfessed and/or grave sin I have not “manned up” and addressed? Owning my faults and asking God for forgiveness clears the ear canals of grace.  I cannot hear with a wax build up. Ear wax is like sin. God wants to speak to me, but my ears are plugged with sin. Confessing my sins clears my hearing. Some wax may have festered and hardened by years of denial and passionate protection of my ego. This makes me deaf to God’s voice.

Third, I ask myself if I’m really listening. Thomas Keating’s quote always reminds me to temper my prayer time. He said, “God’s first language is silence; everything else is a poor translation.” I can get caught up in reciting prayers, reading inspirational messages, even reading the scripture without being mindful of whom I’m reading about. What I call prayer time can be more academic and mentally stimulating, a kind of spiritual mind candy. If I’m not mindful, what I call prayer time may not be attentive toward my relationship with Him. Don’t get me wrong, I need all those prayers and certainly the scriptures. However, I fall deaf of Him when I allow it all to be detached from relationship with Christ.

Finally, I can get caught up with my expectation for God to speak during my prayer time. It’s like, “Ok, God, let’s talk, I’ll listen and tell me what you want me to do today.” I might try to compartmentalize God’s time to talk when I scheduled it. Many times I hear nothing. Nothing. That’s ok because He just loves being with me. And the truth is, I love just hanging out with Him.

He can whisper a calling to me any time in my day. He whispers encouragement and love messages in your day as well.  Some will be gentle and soft. And maybe, just maybe, you will receive one that strikes you like thunder.

Here’s my encouragement. Go, catch the thunder. It will roll ahead of you. Thunder comes before the storm. And His is a storm of love.

Be prepared. Listen. God’s whispers might be a rolling thunder within you right now.

I end my Camino with my favorite quote that I hope inspires you. 

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our Light, not our darkness, that most frightens us.

We were born to make manifest the Glory of God that is within us. 
It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone.
And as we let our Light shine,
We unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.
As we are liberated from our own fear,
Our presence automatically liberates others."
                                     
                           Nelson Mandella

Ultreia, Deacon Willie




Saturday, May 12, 2018

Reboot



Reboot



Reboot



Reboot



Reboot


Reboot

May 12, 2018
Melide to Santiago; three days, 57km

I apologize for my blog going dark these last three days.  I believe and hope you will understand as I share a spiritual transformation that has been occurring. It was so amazing to me, dare I say, a miracle enveloping within me along these days that I could not find words to express them until I reached Santiago. Here’s what’s been happening.

Three days ago I hobbled into Melide.  My foot pains and blisters, which started a week prior, were insanely painful.  I gathered all the ‘fortitude’ I could muster to make it to this city. I’d been here before, a really lovely city. My foot pain was serious and two opportunities were available here. I knew of a clinic right in town and the location of a bus station if I needed to ride ahead.

The clinician examined my foot, shook her head, and said apologetically, “I am sorry. Your Camino is fin (ended). She well knew how devastating such news is to a pilgrim.  It certainly tore my heart out. I was but 57km away, a mere 35 miles away. I was just three days away, just three.  Because she could see the agony in my every step, she walked to a counter, pulled something off the shelf and returned.  It was a cushioned pad that is worn between and around the toes. It held a thick cushion for the ball of the foot. As soon as it was slipped on my foot, there was an instant comfort.  The cushion reduced the sharp contact of the footstep. She also examined a med I was carrying, but hadn’t taken for fear of the symptoms. “These are a strong anti-inflammatory with pain killer. They must be taken with food.”

I left feeling sad, but finally with some guidance.  Before I walked out the door, the clinician ran and caught me at the door, “Sir, take the medicine, rest your foot, and see how it feels tomorrow. You might find enough improvement to be able to walk carefully again.”
Hope. That was pure and sweet hope born out of my weakness.

That evening I caught the pilgrim mass. I knelt in prayer begging God what I should do, should I take the bus and be safe or do take the chance of leaving this little haven and try to walk a shorter way and slower? What if I got so pained I couldn’t go on? How would I get help in the remote area ahead? I only knew one thing: I was weak and in crazy pain.

Drifting into my evening prayer was this scripture, 2 Corinthians 12:9
“But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.”

I so recall sitting on the bottom bunk in this old albergue among a crowd of French speaking pilgrims. They were just doing the pilgrim thing, but they had no idea of the heartache I was wrestling. I just sat there and prayed. I prayed a man’s desperate prayer. “I am weak, Lord, and I need you. You know my heart, and You well know how I long to finish this Camino. I am just three days, just three ..single ..days ..away. But I surrender it. I give the Camino back to you.”

I remember sleeping the sleep of dead that night. My body was spent. I did recollect being grateful for the cushioned pad while I walked to the washroom during the night. The morning held a far greater surprise. I unthinkingly stepped out of bed to begin gathering belongs and start the repacking my bag.  I’d been standing for a while until it dawned on me. My foot pain was now a 2-3 on the pain scale, a great improvement from the 8-9 pain the night before. I tested it. It’s way better.

I got geared up and back in my boots.  My foot was tender, but manageable. Hope sunrised in me, and His grace was present. Yea, it was like a holy presence. It was if Christ did a “reboot” within me.  I’ve seen what a transformation this is when a computer program gets stuck and can’t or won’t perform. A simple “reboot” will reenergize and bring power back into the program. I was experiencing a spiritual reboot. A miracle was happening in real time  these last three days.

Don’t get me wrong. The trail would still demand such physical exertion and my foot still pounded away, but prayer and faith guarded my footsteps got me from Melide to Arzua, 15km away. I’d arrive weakened and pained, but encouraged by a new power turbining in me. Ok, so this will sound strange, but I felt a power I’d never recognized before by being, well, weak.  I was both suffering, maintaining, and yet still feeling power generating within me. I don’t know I fully understand this.
Day 2 of this miracle on foot, I left Arzua in hopes of reaching Amenal, a location further out , with the motivation of making the last day into Santiago shorter.  A power moved in me, one greater than I can explain. Whatever was energizing me also sustained my foot pain for a distance of 23km.  I was the one walking, but I couldn’t understand how it was possible because once the walking ended, the crazy pain returned during bedtime. 

Today I arrived in Santiago. Praise you, Lord. I am overrun with joy.  Though it is much more than joy, it is the full knowledge that it was His grace that was sufficient. 

I sit at this very old hostel just 50m from the cathedral and find myself boasting of my weaknesses. Yes, my crazy foot pain is present, but grace is still alive in me.
I suffer from weaknesses from six, agonizing blisters, injury and inflammation on the ball of my foot, tendinitis, raging athlete’s foot with burning and itching, a chest cold and hacking cough, and stabbing pain between my shoulder blades from carrying my 19 pound backpack 200 miles.
To all of these I willingly boast. I beg, not for any esteem for me, but in this fact. I have been graced to experience “the power of Christ resting on me.”

Here’s the thing. It’s all about Him. No stubbornness in me could have managed this. No grit in me could have made it over the terrain and distance. It was one thing alone, and please make no mistake about it.

I received a spiritual reboot followed by a power given solely by Him. There was nothing heroic on my part. It was Him, only Him.

Perhaps this might find you at a time when you’re feeling weak. Maybe you’re bearing up some crazy challenge with work and those you work with. It may be a home issue with a loved one. Perhaps it’s something you’re dreading or fearful.  It might just be that you’re just plain exhausted by all that life demands. Health issues will deplete us and certainly make us weak too.

Here is my encouragement. Admit that you are weak and in what way.  Be boldly honest. So many play the “I’m ok, I can handle it” macho image. In living behind this mask one condemns themselves to prolonged stress and pain. Admitting weakness does the opposite of what we initially reject our self-image of being a failure. Admitting weakness is the honest step to new power. Owning our weakness creates a vacuum that allows power to fill in the new gap. After all, who are we fooling with that phony approach to God. Really?! He knows us, and He longs to talk the real person bearing weaknesses.

Then we need only beg His help.  What parent would refuse help to their child who is struggling and hurt? No, we would rush to pick them up, wipe away their tears, and lovingly comfort them. Our Father is a good, good father. He did this for me, and will do this for you. Yes, for all of us.  
What’s left? Surrender the outcome to His care.  That is something many stubbornly refuse.  But there is something liberating in surrender. The outcome allows us to win. The prize of surrender is a gift that we didn’t know we wanted, or were not even aware we needed. It is precisely where faith grows, no flourishes!

I know this might all sound preachy. It was not my intent, because in fact, these are the very steps that progressed in my “reboot” these last days.  My tears, and honestly I literally cried tears in piercing blisters formed over blisters. Those tears were not wasted. His grace was more than sufficient for me.

Is His grace sufficient enough for you? I pray it is.

Fondly, Deacon Willie




Wednesday, May 9, 2018

Misericordia



Misericordia



Misericordia


Misericordia

May 9, 2018
Portos to Melide

It was another glorious weather day to walk along rolling hills, small farm plots and quaint little villages.  Once conquering the couple 100m climbs, the rest was just rolling countryside.  I would have enjoyed it more if my feet weren’t in screaming pain.  I have a large inflammation on the ball of my left foot behind the toes. Added to this, I now have four blistered toes which have joined the pain parade.  Every step is filled with ouch! ouch! ouch! The trail is covered in golf-ball sized gravel that finds a way to be felt through the sole of my boots.  This is accompanied by occasional stabbing tendonitis in my knee. Pain is part of the sacrifice in doing pilgrimage, and particularly the Camino. I expected it, and I accept it. 

As a way of coping with each crazy painful step along today’s 20km walk, I would pray through the pain and suffering with the word, “mercy.”  The Spanish word for this is “Misericordia.” The English translation somewhat diminishes the Spanish derivative, “mercy from the heart.” This one word prayer I inserted in my agonizing footsteps.  But, the word was to gain even greater dimension in my day’s reflection particularly in something I witnessed and a memory that deeply impacted my understanding of God’s mercy from His heart.

I witnessed something shocking during my lunch break.  It was a sight that epitomized such loving mercy from the heart.  A bright-orange, three wheeled cart rolled on the Camino before me carrying a young adult male. He was every bit of 150 pounds. It was clear that he was paralyzed and struggling with other severe special needs.  He was being pulled by one man who grasped handles to pull from the front and two men holding handles to guide from the rear.  There were three other men alongside and a couple women with supplies escorting this outrageous act of love.  There before me was pure “Misericordia.” 

This word and its profound meaning took on a fresh new reflection. I recalled others I have known who have survived such intense challenge in life and were saved by our Lord’s misericordia.
Our own family can claim a miraculous experience four years ago of God’s mercy from the heart.  Captured in an ultrasound of our second grandchild, little Clara, was a birth defect found in only 1 in 44,000 children. It was an extra sack of miscellaneous bone and mass that attached to her tailbone weighing a couple pounds.  She was born Caesarian C-section. Shortly afterwards, the foreign body was surgically removed. No trace of cancer was detected. Praise God!

Roughly 16 months later, something alarming was discovered.  Doctors examined her again only to find scarier news. Little Clara had cancer growing aggressively from her tailbone and in several other organs.  A course of chemotherapy was charted and this precious little babe was on her way through misery.  She lost weight, her hair, and her strength.  Hopes were high that the treatment would reduce the size and number of tumors to a point where they could be surgically removed.

For weeks during her treatment an all call was sent to prayer warriors.  We pleaded for healing prayers, prayers for mercy on precious little Clara, and for her doctors.  Over the course of weeks of the chemo, the tumors did reduce in number and size.  Doctors were convinced surgery would remove the last remnants of the cancer.

With a desperate call for prayer, little Clara’s picture made it to hundreds of emails. Some went as far as South Africa, places in Europe, and Australia to powerful pray ers I met on the Camino. The greatest force was from family and friends at home. We shared the story with them, they shared it with their churches and faith groups, and they, in fact, shared it with their prayer networks.  A battalion of literally thousands of mighty prayer warriors were on their knees for this sweet one.
I’ll never forget the night before the surgery. Heaven must have rattled with prayers for these surgeons to guide their hands in the last cancer removal.  Everyone was praying their heart out, pleading for life for this little lamb.  The drama was building until late in the day with this news. The surgeons had made their incision across Clara’s abdomen believing they were at the precise location of the cancer cells.  To their amazement and surgical examination, “there were no active tumors.” Clara was sewn up and led to recovery.

Some might claim coincidence. Some might find fault in the doctor’s diagnosis before the surgery. Some might even find anger that Clara underwent an unneeded surgery.

For the battalions of pray ers on their knees throughout her ordeal, we call this “Misericordia” It was the mercy of God from His heart that saved Clara.  The heart of mercy is love. Strangers praying for a little girl they never knew, that’s the heart of mercy.  Strangers pleading for prayers for someone they had no relationship or even knowledge, that’s the heart of mercy.  When we extend loving mercy to another, that demonstrates the Our Father’s heart of mercy.

Today sweet Clara is a bright, bubbly, and  adorable five year old kindergartner.  She is a living example of the power of prayer and the mighty power of God’s mercy.

My hours of reflection on this one word led me to see what power is in mercy. It came in this conclusion: When we look upon others through the bifocals of Misericordia, we see the heart of God and those in our path desperate for mercy from our heart.

Mercy is power. Let’s open our heart to share it freely.

Mercifully, Deacon Willie

Tuesday, May 8, 2018

He’s Blind!



He’s Blind!



He’s Blind!



He's Blind!


He’s Blind!

May 8, 2018
Portomarin to Portos

I left town refreshed and walked like my hair was on fire. It didn’t matter; my left foot was painful, but endurable.  The trail turned out to be a far stronger opponent than my renewed strength and zeal.  For those into fitness challenge you’ll recall hearing the express “hiit.” It stands for “high intensity interval training.  I’ve done (survived) fitness classes in this style.  It involves a crazy strong burst of hard exercise or cardio work out followed by a slower paced and short lived lighter exercise for a short period of time. This is followed by another burst of high intensity workout until the next slower interval. Get it?

Well, today’s trail was made for “hiit.”  The first 10km was one steep roller coaster-like ascent followed by a short level trail only to start the next interval of steep 15 to 20 degree slope inclines for a few kilometers until the next interval of level approach.  By midmorning my clothes were soaked with sweat, I was gasping for my next breath at the top of each rise, and was guzzling water.  I’m not sure what crossfit training is, but this would have been in its league.

The weather was merciful. Unlike yesterday with temperatures in the low 70’s with the sun frying our skin, today was heavily overcast, unusually cool in the upper 40’s, and gratefully chilly for overheated hiking.  Different weather could have made this day gruesome. I was grateful.
Since leaving Sarria, the pilgrim count has more than tripled.  There are scores of young high-schoolers from many different countries walking in groups. Not sure when you’ve traveled with adolescents lately, they’re much like big kindergarteners.  They bring loud conversation and abundant laughter to the trail, so much for solitude. No complaints here, though, the Camino has new vitality.

A joy I received were three new Camino friends, three ladies roughly older than me, and purely delightful. They are strong walkers, crazy strong. One has done the Camino 8 times, others several times as well.  Today’s ‘hiit’ trail was there claim to regular walking trails in Ireland.  They’re walking pace and agility humbled me.

Perhaps for the third time of the day our paths coincidentally met at a roadside café.  I was happy to be here. It had, on the premise, a remnant of the Camino heroes’ accomplishments.  The Knights Templar, ancient knights, men of strength and honor in service of pilgrims from the 13th to 15th century, had built a small church here. It is one of MANY churches on the Camino built by the Knights. It served as a a church and hospital for pilgrims. 

The lovely Irish ladies entered before me. Upon exiting they shared in gasp and amazement, “He’s blind!” They were staring at their credentials. Pilgrims take the stamps on their pilgrim’s credentials seriously. They walk in pain and sacrifice for the stamps that archive their journey.  Others were pouring out of the little church at the same time saying the same surprising detail, “He’s blind!”  Not at first noticing this fact, they handed the Templar volunteer their credential. He began stamping, and on any credential space or stamp already on their pilgrim treasure, and multiple times. 

I was given one more reminder before entering, “He’s blind! You should guide his hand to help him.” Surprisingly, I entered the small church in a lull in the pilgrim traffic. It was just the two of us.  I kindly handed him euros for the service and gently grasped his hand to guide the stamp to my credential. I was touched by his acceptance and humility in the offer.  There was just my hand gently holding his hand and guiding its direction.  Dare I say, it was a loving encounter between the stranger of Christ in him with the stranger of Christ in me. 

What was most striking about my Christ stranger’s hands were that they were large, soft, and submissive. He could have let pride refuse my help, yet he welcomed my help.  There was such profound humility in this moment.

In that instance, we were Christ’s hands in service of one another.  I sense that is how Jesus entered in care for those He served;  it was His gentle hand touching, holding, and guiding the way. But what it was with our Knight’s Templar servant was a moment frozen in time with my imagination of my hands in Christ’s hands.

As I departed, I ignored the sign posted above his table and snapped a photo to capture this moment.  I paused before my exit and said, “Dios te bendiga!” This means, “God bless you.” Imagine my surprise when he responded by raising his hand and pronouncing a long Spanish blessing over me.
Yea, “He’s blind!” But he didn’t need sight to be Christ’s hands. He didn’t need sight to display love.  He didn’t need sight to be humble. Yea, “He’s blind!” But he didn’t need sight to be Christ to me. It was in his gentle touch.

There’s a lesson in this for me, perhaps for you as well.  I am sometimes blind to what I see of others on the outside.  though, God creates beauty from the inside. What the eyes cannot see, the heart can. My hands can hold Christ’s hands in another, if I am mindful of it. 

Perhaps this Knight’s Templar volunteer was the one being patient with me? Maybe his submissiveness and humility was for me because in his mind he thought of me, “He’ blind!” Be more gentle with him.

How’s your eyesight?

Fondly, Deacon Willie


Monday, May 7, 2018

My Left Foot



My Left Foot



My Left Foot



My Left Foot



My Left Foot


My Left Foot

May 7, 2018
Sarria-Portamarin

The Camino started today with a 240m climb over a 12 km distance.  It was a rapid series of breath-stealer after breath-stealer.  I’d reach the top of one peak, stop and suck wind, then proceed ahead for the next one.  Each stop was rewarded with fabulous panoramas of the hillside.  As wonderful as hill and mountain views were, it was the return of enchanting little surprises nature provided I loved most.  The trail threaded its way along towering trees bowing over pilgrims.  There were many little pristine-clean streams to hop-scotch skip across on large boulders.  This was God’s gift to me for 23 km.

While the trail was all so beautiful, my left foot was a crabby companion.  There is still that half-dollar-sized blister on the ball of my foot just behind the toes.  It barked its pain with each step. What a pain was my left foot!

For several miles I would recite with each new painful step, “Oh, my left foot.” This rehearsed with each step until a diversion played in my thinking. The expression, “My left foot” is used as an expression for “I disagree” or “bologna” or in general, “no way.”

As I (gingerly) walked on, I started to contemplate thinking I held about the Christian faith that I now know was worthy of someone calling me out on it as “Yea, my left foot” that that’s true. Here are a few of those, let’s say, less mature beliefs about have a Christian faith.

God made me to be happy. Well, my left foot!  He made me to be loved by Him and to love Him in all circumstances. Of course we will be happy with Him. But to remember, happiness is a temporary emotion that will weave in and out of life events.  God will forever be present in all the good, the bad, and the ugly. Happiness is my choice.  People have demonstrated happiness in the craziest of life struggles from the Holocaust through war through poverty.  Happiness was a choice.  Jesus laid out how to achieve happiness in the 8 beatitudes.  We were not made for happiness although we generally are happy living in God’s plan.  Made for happiness? ‘My left foot.’

If I live a good life, of course, God will take me into heaven.  This is another, ‘my left foot’ presumption. So, if I go to church, say some prayers (when I think about it), volunteer to help a good cause, then I’ve done more than those who didn’t, and I’m certain to get into heaven. Right? The crazy in this is a stench of entitlement.  The Christian life is not a series of check the boxes.  It is a relationship.  Jesus gave his all, and moment by moment we are called to give Him our all. So once again, let’s give ‘my left foot’ to the entitlement rational for entering heaven.

Being good enough, is good enough. This complacency needs a ‘my left foot’ boot. Embedded in this thinking is a comparison of my service and faith activities against what it was years before or even worse, what comparison I see in what others are doing.  It is thinking that teeter totters between “well, I’m not a terrible bad sinner, but I’m not a saint either.”  If we press this further we’d recognize being good is the enemy of being great.  Former Pope Benedict called out our modern culture with this statement, “We are called to greatness; we are not called for comfort. No, we are called to greatness.” That’s a pretty firm ‘my left foot’ debunk of good enough thinking.

I don’t need to go to church to be a Christian. A hello, that’s more ‘my left foot’ hogwash. The church needs us, and we need the church.  Central to all Christian services is entering into group prayer, worship, and gratitude for all God’s gifts.  There is an element of being humble before the Lord and seeing others being humble before one another.  There is an “I’ll do it my way” attitude and the “I don’t get anything out of it, so why go?” mentality. Both of these excuses are Satan’s perfect ploys.  The evil one’s mission is to separate (Satan) and (Devil) divide. Our faith and need for spiritual leadership in the home is suffering without the church. The church is suffering as well. Set the alarm for service Sunday morning and put power back in the next six days of the week.  Give missing church on Sunday ‘my left foot.’

Our list could go on and on.  Our modern culture battles the gospel messages.  I can no longer hit the snooze button and sleep through life with comfort. I am made for greatness. You are made for greatness. We are all made for greatness. 

In our heart we know the truth of what is God’s way and the world’s way. We can give complacency ‘my left foot.’ It is our destiny for greatness.

Fondly, Deacon Willie



Sunday, May 6, 2018

The Desire of OUR Heart



The Desire of OUR Heart



The Desires of OUR Heart



The Desires of OUR heart



The Desires of OUR heart



The Desires of OUR Hearts

May 6, 2018
Samos to Sarria

I left the town of the famed monastery to walk what is claimed to be the trail through an enchanted forest.  The trail snaked along immense cypress trees whose girth was a good four foot in diameter. These were 100’s of years old, and many were being strangled harmlessly by dense poison ivy vines.  Along the way there were ancient trees that sagged over the trail creating an interesting path to follow. Not only these, there were captivating little waterfalls here and there to allow a moment to drink in the quaint and soothing sound of  God’s creation. All of today’s walk was truly enchanting.

My Camino reflection was captivated by inspired teaching of two men wealthy in spiritual advice and humility.  It was the research into St. Ignatius’ Spiritual Exercises by Fr. Rick Mc Gurn SJ. and Fr. Bill Creed SJ. Fr. Rick offered a captivating possibility. He said, “Maybe the thought we have was first God’s thought.  Maybe what I was thinking was actually God speaking to me.”

This brings a whole new world to mind when it comes to prayer.  I typically believed that my thoughts were arrived at solely on my own.  That is, I was the sole orchestrator of what I wanted to talk to God about.  He would respond to what I was talking to Him about. When I went to Him about my desires, about my petitions, about my dreams, it was me sharing these and then my waiting to hear what His response would be.

Fr. Rick’s advice opens a whole new paradigm.  We believe that God is dynamic and relational, therefore whatever I talk to Him about, He already knows.  And maybe, what I believed was my holy desire, petition, and dream was actually what Our Lord initiated within me. In this, I would not be the initiator, but the responder to what God had already planted within me. Hmmmmmm?

Here’s another way to look at it.  Remember the television show MASH?  It was largely a comedy show with a setting at an Army medical hospital in South Korea.  There was a character on the show I’d like to highlight, Radar O’Reilly, the company clerk.  He was given the nickname “Radar” because he was already ahead of what the base Colonel would say or need to do.  He read the mind of whom he worked with so closely that the show humorously captured Radar saying the thoughts of the Colonel before he could say them.  Their thoughts were the same. They just occurred in a time lapse of moments within the conversation.

I don’t want to diminish the power of God to a comedy show character, or by any stretch of the imagination  compare God go Radar. But, maybe that may help with a bit of a simplified illustration of how God speaks in prayer? It is not so my talking to God, but us conversing. I still have the free will to reject what He is offering, but what joy it is in that moment of intimate prayer when the strong sense is there when my holy desire is God’s holy desire. 

Of course, this needs much training in discernment of spirits of consolation and desolation.  His voice can be lost or misunderstood.  Prayer alone filters our selfish desires from holy desires.
Today it was a captivating prayer time considering that what I took to the Lord as a goal to walk the Camino again, was, in fact, his goal speaking that same wish just before I was certain enough to utter it to Him. My Camino, “Yes” was actually a response to His goal for me planted there well in advance.

I saw my relationship with Him different today.  It was far more than me praying my heart’s desire. I see it now, my heart desires are actually his heart desires. That is precisely where spiritual beauty lives-when the desires are in both of OUR hearts.

What are the holy desires in your heart? Are you unsure if you should even be asking God about desires? Well, holy desires are rooted in His desires.  Take courage. Have that heart-to-heart talk with  Him. He has already searched your heart and has planted His heart’s desire for you there.

Fondly, Deacon Willie

Saturday, May 5, 2018

Keep Pushing



Keep Pushing



Keep Pushing



Keep Pushing



Keep Pushing



Keep Pushing


Keep Pushing

May 5, 2018
Triacastla to Samos

Today was a short walk of 10km through undulating hillsides. It comprised gently rolling hills through quaint farm villages.  For strong legs and feet, it would have been no problem.  However, I am suffering from a half dollar-sized blister on the ball of my left foot.  In addition to this, my legs are plum tuckered out. On the positive end of the spectrum, Samos is famous for being one of Europe’s oldest monasteries begun in the 6th century and developed fully during the 12th century.  Yea, I’m a history guy, and being at a place where people gave their life to the faith 900 years before Columbus discovered America is interesting to me.

Every footstep toward Samos screamed at me in the painful reminder of the blister just behind my toes.  I took one step, a pain, another step, another pain. This was my lot for my pilgrimage here and I’m not complaining.

I arrived at a wonderful albergue just across the street from the monastery.  I was excited to see this again. While on the monastery tour we visited one of the ancient sanctuaries where mass was regularly celebrated. What I heard anew was that this chapel is dedicated to empowering virtue. Images adorned a ring around the altar. There was sacred art depicting the theological virtues of faith, hope and love. Strung around this circular chapel were also the cardinal virtues of justice, temperance, prudence, and fortitude. It was this last virtue that set an alarm in my reflection today.
“Fortitude: courage in the face of pain or adversity. It requires bravery, backbone, fearlessness and endurance.” It was a gentle reminder to keep pushing through my foot pains. But our Lord would and did not leave my reflection at foot pain. There was much, much more.

I found myself immersed into the virtue of fortitude.  I want to be courageous, and I know we all want to be courageous. We start our day wanting to be courageous in what we are called to do. We want to live our faith courageously as we know we should and want to do.  Fortitude comes when we get to the tough spots in our day.  Fr. Mike Schmitz of Ascension Presents captured this wisely, “It is easy to be courageous when it’s easy to be courageous. It is hard to be courageous when it’s hard to be courageous.” Oh my, so true!

Fortitude is needed in those tense moments when I am called to make a sacrifice. It’s saying “no” to myself when it would feel so good and comfortable to say yes to my personal wants. It’s saying “no” to engaging in a conversation that is not loving when I so want to add to that witches brew of gossip and anger. It’s saying “no” to what I promised myself early in the morning that I wouldn’t do that day.
Yes, fortitude is facing our daily, moment-by-moment challenges when it would be so, so easy to just give in and try it all again another day.  Satan 1; Christian 0

I fall into this trap all too often and maybe you do too. I mean well, but I need fortitude. I need this virtue not for when I’m strong, but for when I’m weak.  We can be encouraged by 1 Peter 1:7. “Be happy about this. Your faith will endure many trials that will show that your faith is genuine. It is being tested as fire tests and purifies gold- though your faith is far more precious than mere gold. So that when your faith remains strong through the many trials, it will bring praise and glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed.”

So how did this scripture help? First, it comes in the first two words of the verse: “Be happy.” Not sure about you, but when the fires of trial come my way, I’m far from “happy.” Yet St. Peter makes this the first mindset in order to address trial. Why? Because what the trial will do to our faith!  It makes it pure. It makes it precious. It makes our faith something that brings glory and honor to Jesus.  For believers, these are all good reasons.

The supreme challenge is in the definition of being courageous. That is, “being courageous when it’s difficult to be courageous.”

Here is what helped me today to be courageous when it just wasn’t comfortable or easy. It came from a flashback to my strength training at a wonderful little facility back home, Medfitness. The trained strength coaches would watch me intensely to see that my form and speed was at its maximum benefit.  This facility actually recorded and diagnosed when my weights and intervals should be increased.  I would unknowingly plop myself in the machine and “work it.” I never knew that more weight and challenge was added for the day.  That was a good thing for I might have been intimidated.  I would begin this new strength challenge and the coach would watch me. They would expect and see me struggling. They were there well before I was ready to surrender and would come alongside with this encouragement, “Keep pushing. Keep pushing! Don’t stop!

This was not only the encouragement I needed for strength training, it was perfect for my spiritual training.  We’ve heard the statement, “No pain, no gain.” It’s true for purifying our faith. And, it was especially true for me today in growing in fortitude.  Two simple words inspired me, “Keep pushing.” It’s our spiritual training coach, the Holy Spirit, encouraging.

We will all face a challenge in our very near future that will demand fortitude. Everything inside will scream, “Give it up. Maybe manana. You’ve done so much already today, give it a rest.”
This is precisely the point where faith is in the refiner’s fire. I need to “Keep pushing.” I encourage you to do the same.  The fortitude we crave is gained in the pain of pushing through it. Call on the Holy Spirit to coach you through it. Keep pushing!

We can do this fortitude thing. We’ll be “happier” and more courageous for it.

Fondly, Deacon Willie