Lesson #1 from the Catholic Church: It's okay to be small

My Catholic roots have been digging deep as of late after spending all of my adult life in non-denominational church contexts. Root realization #1: Church isn't so bad.

Besides for a few exceptions here and there, it had been 25 years since I attended a Catholic Mass. Since the year 2000, I have been immersed in primarily Protestant church contexts. I found the nearness of Jesus a necessity after so many years of understanding God to be so holy as to never be quite attainable (now this was not the official teaching of the Catholic Church; it was simply my interpretation based on what I had experienced growing up Catholic and attending Catholic primary school.)

But last Christmas (2023), I went to a morning Mass with my dad. My heart had been restless for months after dealing with the worst year and a half of my life (more on that later).

If you aren’t familiar with a traditional Catholic service, it goes a bit like this on a weekday morning: liturgy, scripture readings, a 5-minute homily, collective readings of the Our Father and Apostle’s Creed, and — the heart and soul — the Eucharist (communion).

As I sat with my dad, I felt a similar scenario people talk about when they haven’t ridden a bike in years: once you can ride a bike, you don’t forget.

All the memories came flooding back as I sat in Elizabeth Ann Seton Catholic Church. But something was entirely different, and this, I believe, is because God meets us in entirely different ways when we are wandering and restless to better know Him and better cope with a hard and painful world.

Father Mick talked for just 5 minutes. That was all the time it took for an unexplored (to me) reality to burn a hole in my heart: “The church is the holiest place on earth,” he said.

In an entire lifetime of attending church, I had literally never heard someone say that before. But when he said it, it felt true. Besides for Pastor Mick preaching, the sanctuary was silent. Perhaps 20 people had come out on this cold morning. The stained glass refracted light. The smell of incense was faint but easily evident.

These things didn’t make the church the holiest place on earth, of course. God did. God does. As I sat there, I realized that in a world filled with irreverence, we all need a place of reverence — a place where we can sit and be awed and overcome with something other-ly.

This, I realized, was what my wandering heart was seeking: a place where God is God and I am not. A place where my smallness isn’t an insecurity, but a reality that exists simply because God is so big. He really does, like the children’s song resonates, “have the whole world in His hands.”

Leaving that little parish, I knew it was time for me to explore what this “holiest place on earth” meant. Since that time, I have learned many lessons about God and about our faith, which I will share in the following days — things like:

• “Why do we really attend church?”

• “Will God strike me down if I sit alone with Him in an adoration chapel?”

• “Do I even know how to pray anymore — and is worth it?”

• “Why isn’t forgiveness enough?”

Wandering friend, I’m sorry if you’ve been made to feel small or unimportant. You are small, but so is the mustard seed and the pearl of great price. Even the most significant here on earth are small; they may just not remember it sometimes!

Look up, dear friend. We may be small, but God is not. And this very God continues to pursue you because YOU ARE His pearl of great price.

Tomorrow I get to share Lesson #2 from the Catholic Church: Sometimes it’s good to be single-minded.

Where are you wandering today in your faith? Post in the comments.

Much love to you,

💚 Laurie

[Dear reader, a quick note: This initial series is not really about the Catholic Church. Like like all other institutions, it is flawed and has been the source of pain for too many people. Personally, I cannot attend a Catholic Church as my main church for I do not believe in closed communion — that only those who are Catholic can take communion. I believe that communion is for all of us who are broken and bruised but who know our only hope is in Jesus.

And yet, I am sharing these lessons as I believe that in all places, at all times, God wants to show us new things as we wander. For me, being present in the Catholic Church as of late has been like water in a dry, scorched land.]