One of the greatest blessings of my job is that I have the opportunity to attend Mass some mornings with the St. Matthew school children. I love hearing the homilies that our priests craft and preach specifically for the kids. I love the sound of their voices singing the hymns. I love seeing their faces as they receive the Eucharist. But by far my favorite part is the offertory procession--where a selected group of children process the bread and the wine down the aisle to the priest. I'm frequently moved by this part of the Mass for it's rich symbolism, with the procession representing our call to bring ALL that we are to the Lord that we might unite our sacrifice to his sacrifice on the altar. But I'm particularly drawn to meditation as I see these children process with such giddiness and excitement to offer the gifts. Sometimes they look shy and seem awkward, but most of the time, they walk feverishly towards the priest with bright eyes filled with wonder at the GIFT of their participation in this offering.
I remember the same type of experience at Mass on Sundays as a child. My brothers and I would fight over who got to put my parents' collection envelope in the basket as it was passed down our row. There was something so honorable and so intriguing about that simple gesture. We wanted to offer something. We wanted to be able to contribute. We wanted to be fully invested in this ritual. And as I was thinking about these two things, I was drawn to such deep reflection as I contrasted the heart of these children with my own.
Though I'm not sure they realize it, I think that children respond in these ways out of something greater than simply wanting a job or seeking recognition. I think children understand the value of abandonment. I think they know, even with their limited understanding, that they are participating in something profound. I think their reaction speaks to what is so deeply ingrained in each of us--a desire to give ourselves fully to the Lord. A desire to offer what we have, what we bring, who we are to the God who will transform that offering into some beautifully different. And I think that children have the ability to embrace this desire with unquestioning hearts and uncorrupted intentions. I don't think there has ever been a child who, when placing a collection envelope in the basket, has pondered whether or not their parents gave enough money or questioned what that money would be used for. I don't think there has ever been a child who has processed the bread and wine down the aisle questioning what would become of their gift.
And I long for my offering of self to be as unadulterated and untainted as this. I long for a heart that fearlessly offers all that I am to the Lord. I long to be a person who shamelessly brings my life to Christ, knowing that this offering is all he desires, is not beyond transformation, and is done for the benefit of my soul. Why though, with this longing so deep that it hurts, do I so begrudgingly offer myself to the Lord? Why, after years of seeing that my abandonment leads to my fulfillment, do I still grasp so tightly to my own will? Why am I so questioning, so guarded, so ungenerous?
The answer is: I'm afraid. Mostly I'm afraid what he will ask of me or what he will do with my offering of self. I'm afraid that if I offer my income to Christ he will ask me to give up extravagance so as to live simply. I'm afraid that if I offer Jesus my future, I will have to give up the life that I have come to comfortably love so much. I'm afraid that if I offer him the areas of my life that need healed, I will have to actually face some of the demons from my past in order for him to restore me. I'm afraid that if I bring to him my brokenness that he will ask me to courageously stop turning to the glamour of sin and turn repentantly and sacrificially back to him.
But it is in this fear that I must ask the question: when has he ever let me down? When has my offering of self ever not led to something greater and more glorious? When has giving up control ever led me to feel enslaved? When has my will ever been better than his will for me? Sirach 2:10 says "Study the generations long past and understand; has anyone hoped in the Lord and been disappointed? Has anyone called upon him and been rebuffed?" And I think we could continue this series of questions and ask: has anyone ever emptied themselves and not been filled by him? Has anyone ever offered themselves and felt depleted or used? Has anyone ever abandoned themselves to Christ and found the love, mercy, peace, and joy he grants to be lacking?
We know the answer to every one of these questions. But it's the CHOOSING to acknowledge it that is hard. So Jesus, we ask for grace to abandon ourselves to you. We ask for vision to see that your will for us is the way by which we are most satisfied, most fulfilled, and most loved, even if this way is trickled with suffering and sacrifice. May we firmly believe that "whatever happens to us through God's will is always the best possible thing for us. God is not only good, very good, supremely good, but is only good. Therefore his will is and must always be the best for us" (Fr. Bede Jarrett). In acknowledgment of this reality, we entrust ourselves to you--unreservedly, unquestionably, JOYFULLY.
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