From Lukewarm to Lit
There's a quiet whisper that sometimes comes to us, a gentle nudge from the Holy Spirit, inviting us back to something we know deep down we've been missing. For our family, that whisper grew into a resounding call, prompting a return to the Catholic faith we had allowed to become, well, lukewarm.
The Catalyst: Brokenness and the Grace of Loss
Our journey wasn't born out of easy comfort, but out of profound, devastating brokenness. The tragic loss of my brother, Zack, shattered our world. In the aftermath of that sorrow, our family was emotionally and spiritually adrift. We were raw, vulnerable, and honestly, we were on a dangerous path toward spiritual destruction.
Grief brought with it a torrent of negative forces: deep self-doubt, crippling self-shame, and a pervasive sense of worthlessness. When the foundation of your life shakes, the enemy sees an opportunity to sow seeds of despair. We had issues we couldn't resolve, and the silence of our unaddressed faith was deafening.
But God, in His infinite mercy, used this tragedy. We were broken, but instead of allowing us to fall apart completely, He gently showed us the only true source of healing and strength. We made the choice to try. We chose to persevere. And through the grace poured out in the Sacraments and prayer, we are now actively choosing to destroy the enemy's plans for division and despair in our home. Zack's memory is now tied to our renewal, a painful reminder that life is short and only Christ endures.
The world offers so many distractions, and we, like many, had fallen prey to them. But the positive changes that have unfolded in our daily lives have been nothing short of miraculous, starting with a renewed commitment to putting God first.
From Shadows to Laughter: Our Entertainment Shift
Before, our screens often dictated our evenings. We'd find ourselves drawn to shows and movies steeped in the occult, magic, or even demonic themes – perhaps out of curiosity, or simply because they were popular. We didn't realize how subtly these narratives could affect our spirits, introducing an unease or distracting us from true light.
Now, our entertainment choices reflect a desire for joy and innocence. We've discovered the simple pleasure of watching wholesome comedies together. Laughter fills our living room, and we find ourselves feeling lighter, more uplifted, and certainly more peaceful before bedtime. It's a small change, but one that has profoundly impacted the atmosphere of our home.
From Malls to the Master: Reclaiming Our Weekends
Weekends used to mean leisurely trips to the mall, aimless outings, or simply lounging at home, disconnected from anything truly fulfilling. We'd chase fleeting pleasures, only to often feel a void by Sunday night.
The most significant and cherished change has been reclaiming Sunday as the Lord's Day. Our weekends now revolve around the source and summit of our faith: the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. Going to Church isn't just an obligation; it's the highlight of our week. It's where we receive spiritual nourishment, encounter Christ in the Eucharist, and connect with our parish family. This shift has given our weekends purpose, meaning, and a true sense of rest that no shopping trip could ever provide.
From Distraction to Devotion: Prioritizing Prayer
The allure of screens, be it television or video games, was once a powerful magnet in our home. We'd often prioritize these forms of entertainment, pushing aside the spiritual practices we knew were important.
But now, our evenings have a new rhythm. Before anything else, before the shows, before the games, we gather for family Rosary and nightly devotionals. This sacred time has become the anchor of our day. It's a time for quiet reflection, for intentional prayer, for lifting our intentions to God, and for growing closer as a family in Christ. It’s challenging at times, yes, but the peace and unity it brings far outweigh any temporary desire for screen time.
From Noise to Nuance: Seeking Wisdom
The world is full of noise – whether it's the aggression of fight sports or the endless, often divisive, chatter of political commentary. We used to consume these readily, allowing their energy to permeate our evenings.
Now, we seek out content that builds us up intellectually and spiritually. Instead of engaging with the noise, we've found immense value in watching theological debates. Listening to thoughtful discussions on faith, doctrine, and apologetics not only enriches our understanding but also strengthens our ability to articulate and defend our beliefs. It's an active way to engage our minds for Christ, rather than passively consuming what the world offers.
Reading today’s Gospel (Luke 19:1-10) feels like a reminder for myself and my beloved family, the story of Zacchaeus reminds us that Christ always seeks out the lost, and often, He finds us when we are at our most broken and confused. This journey of returning to faith, which has been an incredible blessing, was forged not in comfort, but in the crucible of profound sorrow.
This transformative movement in our family, this conscious choice to stop being lukewarm and start striving for something more, began in the shadow of a cross, the untimely death of my dearest brother, Zack. The sadness that enveloped us was immense, a desolation that required, and still requires, supernatural faith and painful perseverance just to take the next breath. It felt, at times, like we were lost entirely, paralyzed by grief in the middle of the jostling crowd.
Yet, in that deepest valley, Zack’s death became the bittersweet catalyst. We realized that earthly security and comfort are mere shadows, and we were forced to desperately cling to the only thing that could not be taken from us: the Rock who is Christ. The journey back is not about being perfect, but about consistently trying and always trying to put God first, trying to choose wisely, and trying to live out our Christian faith authentically, because only in Him did we find the courage to keep going.
We are far from perfect, and the grief remains a constant challenge, but knowing we are truly trying, together as a family, makes all the difference. Our conversations are now richer, weighted with eternal purpose. Our home feels different, permeated by a profound, if quiet, peace. If we could find hope, purpose, and renewal after such a devastating loss, climbing that painful sycamore tree of sorrow to reach Christ, anyone can.
If you, too, feel that gentle whisper of grace amidst the chaos or the quiet grief, know that embracing it means embracing a transformation - a deep, salvific exchange where Christ promises to stay at your house, bringing light into the darkness, and turning profound loss into profound grace.
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