Lawn Chair Catechism 3.0

Once again I'm linking up with CatholicMom.com's Lawn Chair Catechism series. This week we're reading and discussing Chapter 2 of Forming Intentional Disciples, "We Don't Know What Normal Is."

Even if you didn't read the book, you're welcome to participate. But I highly recommend that you read this book. It's like a retreat in book form. (You can still get it with free shipping from OSV!)

When I hit page 54, I might as well have been looking at a picture of myself when they describe the Catholics who have received their sacraments and actively practice their Faith, but really have not developed a "personal interior journey of a lived relationship with Christ resulting in active discipleship."

I'm an introvert. I don't live life out loud anyway. But after reading this chapter, my conclusion is that the author is talking about what I'm supposed to be doing as a Secular Franciscan:  going "from Gospel to life, and life to the Gospel." Sherry Weddell uses the word "kerygma" and defines it as "the essential nucleus of the Gospel that awakens initial Christian faith." (page 66)

On to the discussion question du jour:  "Are you comfortable talking with others about your relationship with God?"

No, I'm not. I do better writing about it than talking about it, maybe because I have the delete button and arrow keys to help me rearrange the words and figure out exactly what I want to say, rather than stumbling over my clumsy spoken words. And because I can't see my audience, though I do tweet about my faith occasionally with people that I see in person. I can discuss God with one of my neighbors, and with some of the members of the folk group I've been singing with since 2006, but not so much with my family and not with strangers, either.

Plus, I'm not sure I have a good handle on that relationship. I've got a long way to go. And when others talk to me about their relationships with God, I just wind up feeling like a fraud--which proves that I do, indeed, have a long way to go.

My greatest inspiration right now is Pope Francis. Every time I read an excerpt from his homilies, or see his tweets, I am reminded--and challenged--about what it really means to follow Christ. I marvel at his ability to show the world how to live as a disciple.

Lawn Chair Catechism 2.0

Joining up with Lawn Chair Catechism, hosted at CatholicMom.com!

I'm not through chapter 1 of the book yet, but it starts out with some distressing stats about retention. Specifically, is the Church keeping the folks it baptizes? (Sadly, not very well.)

I'm a cradle Catholic, as are my parents, my husband, my siblings and my children. But participation varies, despite childhoods centered on Catholic school and Mass attendance.

Right now I struggle with my older kids' attitudes about Mass. I wish that all my kids wanted to go to Mass on Sunday, wanted to find a way to serve the Church and to know God better.

I am here to say that bringing them to Mass each and every Sunday of their lives is not enough. Sending them to Catholic school is not enough. Praying Grace before meals is not enough. All of these are good things. None of them are guarantees.

I wonder, sometimes, if that fact that my own relationship with God has not been enough to inspire my family. Do I show them that faith is a joyful, difficult, exciting, scary struggle? Or do my actions (and words) lead them to believe that faith is less about living and more about following the rules?

To form intentional disciples we must first become intentional disciples. Does the faith I have on the inside show on the outside? Do my actions speak louder than the Tau cross I wear around my neck?

I've got a lot of work to do.

(My impression of the book, Forming Intentional Disciples? So far so good! You've still got time to order it at the discount price of $10 with FREE shipping, through Saturday, June 8!)

Lawn Chair Catechism 1.0

Lawn Chair Catechism has officially launched over at CatholicMom.com! I don't have my book yet, since I only just ordered it yesterday, but I'll be sure to catch up on the Recommended Reading once my copy arrives.

In the meantime, I read the introductory discussion that Sarah posted this morning. There's discussions going on in the comment box, and there's a link-up for blogs as well, for longer responses to the questions raised.

I really related to the story of the parish leader who confessed that she didn't have a "relationship with God." I have felt that way myself. I remember attending a Christ Renews His Parish retreat shortly before I was married. My husband was very involved in that retreat program at the time, and he encouraged me to go on the women's retreat. It seems to be a self-seeding organization--you attend a retreat and then you're on the team of presenters for the next one.

I was 25--a good bit younger in years and life experience than most of the other women there. That was fine during the retreat itself, but in the weekly meetings afterward where we began to prepare for the next retreat, it became an issue. We were supposed to be able to give a talk about the moment where God really came into our lives.

I didn't have a big, dramatic moment. All the other women did. I actually fled the meeting in tears, feeling like a fake because I couldn't come up with some time in my life when God smacked me in the head and made me notice Him.

Throughout most of my life, I have been a leader in my church:  through music ministry, campus ministry, religious education, and Secular Franciscans (where I hold a leadership position in my local fraternity.) And many, many times I feel like a fraud because I don't have that outward, obvious Relationship With God for all to see. I pray the Liturgy of the Hours. I play music at Mass and attend daily Mass when possible. I wear a Tau. And I find myself leaning on God more, and trying to do the right thing.

Am I an Intentional Disciple? I think I'm working on it. I'm getting better. It's a SLOW process, this growing-up-in-faith, and baby steps seem to be the name of the game, at least for me. Could I define my Relationship With God? I don't think so, and if pushed, I'd probably flee in tears, just like I did at that meeting 22 years ago.

Recently on Twitter, someone mused that she wished she had a thicker skin. I replied that I wished the same for myself, but that a thick skin can keep love out just as effectively as it keeps hurts out--and God is love, so praying for a thicker skin might be counterproductive.

The fact that I recognized this is, I think, a sign that I'm opening the door a crack--a door that I've kept closed far too long.