"The Mysteries"

Everybody remembers their first day of Kindergarten. You get dropped off by a nervous parent outside a big, scary school building, your sack lunch in hand, and watch as they wave as they drive away. It's a tense moment, but an important one. Your child is learning to be a part of the world, instead of being just the center of yours.

My first school was a preparatory school in Newnan, GA. My parents could only afford it for the first couple of years, but I have many happy memories from there. One of those was a sports event called "Jubilee". At the end of the school year, the entire student body (K thru 12) was divided up into teams marked by every color of the rainbow, and competed against one another in relay events. One game I remember in particular was "The Glass Hill". A huge plastic tarp was laid across this large slope on the soccer field, and teams would have to crawl up the tarp using the "human ladder" technique while the surface was sprayed with water and dish soap. It was AWESOME!

Jubilee was a lot of excitement by itself, but it taught something very important. Yes, these are the students you see every day, and we all look the same on the surface. However, if we separated ourselves into colors, we would have to learn to exist happily together in spite of our differences. Instead of putting one another down based on those colors, we would cheer one another on, and know that a common goal was being sought by all--FUN.

So how can this principle be applied to life today? The obvious example is "Getting along in spite of our differences in the human race." This is true, but I want to take it in a particularly touchy direction for the purpose of this blog entry. In the pictures above, you can see the different "teams" clearly by the colors of their shirts. (I still have one of my shirts from Jubilee, ha!) Now, let's take a look at the photo below, and see if you can spot the different teams:

"Aha! I see where you are going!" you will say. If you are religiously unaffiliated, you will see this as a typical problem with churches and understand it immediately. If, on the other hand, you ATTEND one of the locations regularly, you may recognize the irony, but likely still see the need for separate teams. After all, your beliefs are different! One of you believes in the Holy Eucharist, the other simply knows it as "The Lord's Supper". There are other differences (enough to make the two groups not want to discuss their faith with one another for fear of conflict) but I will simply leave it as that. We are different.

But isn't there a common thread? Actually, there is a huge one. When you see the photo below, your response will probably be "Yeah of course, but..."

This is where I want you to be quiet for a moment. Close your eyes for a second, and focus on the baby in that wooden box. From his first cry to his ascension into Heaven, he didn't give one rip if you went to Mass or Worship Services. What he cared about was you loving one another, as The Father loved you. With that in mind, let me put that subject to bed and tell you about the purpose of this blog entry.

The painting below is an early memory for me. It hung in one of the bedrooms in my parents' house. I remember being utterly spellbound by this image, even as a toddler. Finding it online now, I stopped for a moment to look at it, and felt fresh tears welling up inside. The little girl praying while looking upward is especially moving for me.

Now, I could go on and on about "How many of the kids in this photo were Catholic, you think? Baptist? Methodist? Holiness? Pentecostal? Lutheran? That's important, isn't it? Look at Jesus' face. Does it seem important? It really isn't. To be honest, I would rather sit and listen to a child talk about Jesus for hours than hear an adult talk about Him for five minutes. Why? Because one of them sees the common love He shared with all His children, the other is more concerned with "Making sure we believe in the Jesus that our church likes best." One says "I believe in Jesus." the other says ""Of course you believe, but let's make sure you believe the way it needs to be believed."

This is not to say there aren't important things to understand. Jesus was not just a good teacher. He was not created by God for a specific purpose at some point in the grand timeline. Jesus is God's son, and has always been present with Him. So, before we go any further, let's look at what I believe, personally.

I believe that because of Adam and Eve's sin, the world passed from perfection into darkness. Their sin was passed onto every offspring they had, me included. God cannot live with sin, but He loved me too much to see me destroyed, so he made a Way for me to be free. He sent His only Son, who lived a sinless life in spite of temptation, and died on the cross for me, so that if I believed in Him, turn from my sin, and accepted His gift of Salvation, that I will not perish, and live forever with Him in paradise.

That's the meat of the matter...everything else is just side dishes and dessert.

Now, I was raised Baptist. Not just Baptist, mind you, but Southern Baptist. There is a joke about us Baptists, and it goes like this:

You may laugh at this, but I can honestly tell you that it's more true than you can imagine, and it isn't just Baptists who are guilty. We all want to believe our team is the best. It's in our nature, and that nature says "Of course the whole is greater than the sum of the parts, but darn it, our part is the most important...after all, we ARE that part!"

Truth be told, however, as recently as one year ago, God began teasing me with something new and uncharted. In writing these next few things, please don't jump to conclusions. I know where I belong, and I'm not going anywhere unless God says otherwise. What I do know, is that God began pointing me in a direction that not only made me uncomfortable, but would make many folks on "my team" twitchy if they knew about it.

How did I begin? I borrowed books on the matter at hand. I visited websites. I dove as deeply as my courage would allow me. I remember telling God that if He wanted me to entertain these ideas with an open mind, He was going to have to be content with me (for right now) wading out into the "Kiddie Pool" area, and no deeper.

Did he answer my prayer? Oh brother, did He ever! He even took the very words I had chosen, and delivered that Kiddie Pool on a silver tray!

A couple of weeks ago, I was shooting portraits at Callaway Gardens. I know Callaway so well as a photographer, that I can often become guilty of "going through the motions" as I am working with a family. If I decide to use the Memorial Chapel there as a backdrop, I know what angles to use, what settings my camera needs, and even what time of day is best to catch the light through the rear windows.

I was finishing up with this family (homeschoolers, like us), and we were walking away from the chapel to go back to their car so that I could get paid and they could get home to watch football. Niceties had been said, hands had been shaken, and they were getting ready to leave, when one of the adults said they needed a bathroom break. While that was taking place, their little girl (age 6 at the most) walked over to me, and beckoned for me to bend down. I did, and the words she said to me literally froze me to the spot on which I was now kneeling.

She took a rosary out of her pocket, held it up to me, and said "I know you aren't Catholic, but do you know about The Mysteries?"

I stared into this little girl's eyes, and she looked so amused by my reaction. I recomposed myself, and not being totally ignorant of this, I said "Yes, I do. I know about the Glorious, and the Sorrowful, and..." My mind went blank, partly from unfamiliarity, but also from the piercing, loving eyes of this child. She smiled gently, and said "Yes...and the Luminous, and Joyful." She put the rosary around my neck, and took the crucifix in her hand. She held it up to me, and said "This is the cross of Christ, and his blood that was shed for you." She went one by one through each bead, explaining not only the prayers, but the Mysteries as well. By the time she was finished, I felt like this child had taken a part of me captive, and there was no way I was ever going to get that part of me back.

As she was getting in her car, I ran over to her, and took the rosary off my neck. "Here, you don't have to give this to me, sweetheart. I'm not a Catholic, remember?" she smiled, and curled my fingers back around the rosary. "Keep it." she said. "Put it in your nightstand. When you wake up in the middle of the night, or if you have a bad dream, hold it. It helps."

Her family drove away, and I stood there completely drained. My heart was beating wildly, and all I wanted to do was find that little girl again, and this time sit at HER feet and let her teach me. In my church, I am an Awana leader. I have worked in Awana for 15 years, and taught children of all ages. I love children more than anything in the world, and teaching them about Jesus is MY PURPOSE on this earth. Still, I felt at this moment that another chapter had been opened, and now I was the one who was left with no answers.

Before getting in my car, I looked up at Heaven. I heard the voice of God in my ears, whispering from His word:

"...and a little Child shall lead them."

I pointed a finger at God at that moment, and said out loud "I see what you did there! Don't think I didn't!"

As I drove home, I felt an unbelievable desire to stop and pray. Our church has a prayer room, and I knew it would probably be open this time of day. As I got off on the exit for my town, I turned toward my church, then immediately changed direction like a person who didn't know which way he needed to go. I drove toward a different place this time. I had not been in this kind of church since I had been taken by a family friend when I was very, very little. St. Patrick's is a small Catholic church, but it is beautiful inside.

Of course, it was open, and I was welcomed inside to pray. As I crossed the floor, I realized that if I had been a "Good Catholic", I would have crossed myself out of reverence before walking into this place of worship...but, as the little girl said, "I know you aren't Catholic..." so, I guessed I was okay.

My eyes were immediately drawn to the statue in the corner that ultimately divides Catholic and Protestant. What I did next might be viewed by some as quaint, and by many in my own church as pointless or even blasphemy. I walked over to Her pedestal, stood eye to eye with Mary, and my words seemed to echo against the silent walls:

"I met your daughter today."

**Note to readers: I am in no way insinuating that I am considering conversion. Please put away your worries. Also, any comments on this post, or Facebook replies that argue or debate theology based on this post will be deleted. It ain't what this was meant for. <><