Too many people, when they grow older, give up on the God they learned about as children.

What they really need to do is think about God in a more mature way.

This can be a crisis of faith for many people, especially young people who can no longer relate to the God they learned about as children.

Too often, priests will tell them that this is a temptation.

They are told to have greater faith.

Hold on to their God and don't let go.

In truth, when someone is undergoing a crisis of faith, they may need to leave their old image of God for a new one.

We need to change our understanding of God as we mature, just as we need to change our understanding of our parents as we mature.

Psychologists, like Erik Erikson, teach us that humans go through stages of development as they mature.

The great Catholic mystics taught the same thing for centuries when they wrote of the purgative, contemplative and unitive ways. More recently, spiritual writers like James Fowler have used modern psychology to enrich our understanding of spiritual development.

My own simplified vision of spiritual development has three stages:

• turning away from sin,
• the practice of virtue and
• being embraced by God's love.

These stages are not airtight compartments but more a matter of emphasis.

All our lives involve turning away from sin and practicing virtue, but the emphasis will be different as we mature.

Many of the greatest saints were first great sinners.

They had to go through a conversion, reject sin, do penance and accept God's mercy.

Many Christian ministers put a great emphasis on this process, focusing on sin and the need for conversion in their preaching.

Their God is a lawgiver and judge and sometimes even a policeman.

God's wrath will fall on sinners, but his mercy will come to those who turn away from sin.

Pentecostals, Baptists and conservative Catholics are good at challenging sinners and calling them to repent.

This approach can be especially successful in dealing with prisoners and those with addictions.

Knowing that God is watching can also keep ordinary Christians from falling into sin.

The fear of getting caught and punished keeps many people from doing wrong. We are like children who behave because we don't want to be spanked.

The prayer life of a person at this stage of development is all about contrition, recognizing we are sinners and saying we are sorry.

If we hear the parable of the prodigal son, we identify with the prodigal and his brother, and how we are just like them.

We spend a lot of time examining our conscience and listing all the sins we have committed in confession.

At this stage, God can sometimes come across as arbitrary and vindictive.

When I was a child in the 1950s, we were taught that it was a mortal sin to eat meat on Friday or miss Mass on Sunday.

Adolescents were told that they would go to hell if they enjoyed a "dirty thought."

Wives were told to stick with their husbands, even in cases of abuse.

For many, it seemed absurd to burn in hell alongside Hitler for eating a hamburger on Friday.

This was a God who could be easily rejected.

At some point after turning away from serious sin, a Christian needs to move on from a focus on sin to a focus on the practice of virtue.

If you are no longer a great sinner, it is time to move from the negative to the positive.

We need to move from "How can I stop sinning?" to "How can I be a better Christian?" Scrupulosity is a sure sign that it is time to move on.

In this second stage of spiritual development, God is not so much a judge as a coach.

We ask him for help to be a better Christian.

He urges us on to greater and greater virtue.

When we pray and read the Gospels, we don't focus on sin, but on Jesus as the person we want to follow and imitate.

"What can I do for the Lord?"

"How can I be better?"

Most Christians spend most of their lives at this stage of spiritual development.

We are not great sinners, but neither are we saints who practice the virtues perfectly.

We try to be better but frequently fail.

We don't pray well, we don't love as much as we should, we struggle and don't seem to get better.

This can get tiresome after a while.

The coach wants us to run faster, but we know we are never going to win a gold medal.

We begin to resent the coach for asking too much of us.

At this stage of development, we are like a teenager trying to win someone's love with the perfect clothes, hairstyle, makeup, conversation and social media.

We are looking in the mirror all the time, not at the person we are with. By being good, we think we will earn God's love.

In the third stage of spiritual development, we focus not on ourselves but on God.

We look less at the prodigal son and his brother than at their father.

Many Scripture scholars call the story the parable of the prodigal father because of the love that he showers upon his sons.

When we look at Jesus in the Gospels, we see someone who will not just tell us to stop sinning and follow him.

Rather he is someone who is wonderful and who tells us about his Father, who is loving and compassionate.

In this stage of development, we are not looking for sin or ways to be better; we are looking at the Scriptures to learn how awesome and wonderful God is.

I sometimes think that the hardest act of faith is not to believe a particular dogma but to believe that God loves us unconditionally, that above, behind and in the universe is a benevolent God.

In each stage of spiritual development, our prayer life is different.

• In the first stage it is mostly contrition (I am sorry),
• in the second stage it is mostly petition (help me) and
• in the third stage it is mostly thanksgiving and adoration (you are amazing).

To truly fall in love, we must forget ourselves and focus on the person in front of us. God is amazing and we give thanks to him for all that he has done for us.

In the final stage of spiritual development, we fall in love.

We aren't good out of fear or to win God's love; we are loving and kind because God has first loved us.

• Thomas Reese SJ is a senior analyst at Religion News Service, and a former columnist at National Catholic Reporter, and a former editor-in-chief of the weekly Catholic magazine America.
• First published in RNS. Republished with permission.

Others gloss it as "unconditional gift" or "undeserved favour."

Still others prefer to see it as God's favourable disposition toward his people.

However, the word grace in the New Testament (Greek charis) simply means "gift." The content of the gift is determined by its context. For example, the definition "God's riches at Christ's expense" makes perfect sense in the broader context of Ephesians 2:8.

For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God.

But does that same definition fit 2 Corinthians 12:9?

[Jesus] said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness."

What about 1 Corinthians 15:10?

By the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace toward me was not in vain. On the contrary, I worked harder than any of them, though it was not I, but the grace of God that is with me."

The more fitting definition of "grace" in these two passages in Corinthians seems to be "power."

Grace is God's power manifested in Paul's weakness in the first, and in his ability to work harder than others in the second.

Do we give Grace?

What about 2 Corinthians 8:3-4? Do the glosses "unconditional gift," "undeserved favour," or "a favourable disposition" work here?

(The Macedonian believers) gave according to their means, as I can testify, and beyond their means, of their own accord, begging us earnestly for the favour (same word for grace) of taking part in the relief of the saints."

Grace here is not the immaterial gift of salvation or spiritual power. Rather, grace is the material gift of money or resources.

That may surprise you.

Have you ever described the act of giving money as the giving of "grace"? Paul clearly does in 2 Corinthians 8-9, not just once, but six times (8:4, 6, 7, 19; 9:8, 15). The money bag he carried from these predominantly Gentile churches to the poor saints in Jerusalem is, strangely enough, "grace."

But what is even more surprising about 2 Corinthians 8-9 is how the material grace of humans is inextricably connected to the immaterial grace of God.

Grace as a person

To motivate the Corinthians to contribute, Paul begins 2 Corinthians 8 by speaking about the grace of God.

"We want you to know, brothers, about the grace of God that has been given" (2 Corinthians 8:1). He then expands the definition of this grace in 2 Corinthians 8:9: "you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that although he was rich, for your sake he became poor, so that you by his poverty might become rich."

Grace, in its chief manifestation, is the gift of a person (Titus 2:11-14), our incarnate, crucified, and ascended Savior.

To receive all the benefits that this gift of grace achieved, we must, as Calvin argues, receive his person: "as long as Christ remains outside of us, and we are separated from him, all that he has suffered and done for the salvation of the human race remains useless and of no value for us" (Institutes, 3.1.1).

In 2 Corinthians 8:9, we find that the gift of Christ's person is given to us in the gospel — he lowered himself, so that we, through his poverty, might become rich. And this gift comes from God. It is, after all, "the grace of God" (2 Corinthians 8:1).

I find it fascinating that when Paul wants to encourage human giving in the church, he placards the divine grace of the Lord Jesus Christ.

Jesus is the fundamental expression of giving grace as he gives himself.

Paul does this intentionally to teach the church that Christ's self-giving love is the paradigm for all human expressions of material grace toward others.

Interestingly, the only two instances where the phrase "the grace of God" appears in 2 Corinthians 8-9 are when Paul speaks of God's giving (2 Corinthians 8:1) and human giving (2 Corinthians 9:14: "the surpassing grace of God on you [Corinthians]").

What's the connection? God's divine gift of grace fuels the human giving of grace to others.

God's Grace and ours

Consider 2 Corinthians 9:7-8. After stating that "God loves a cheerful giver" (quoting Proverbs 22:8), Paul takes a step back to explain the source of one's giving.

"God is able to make all grace [divine grace] abound to you, so that having all sufficiency in all things at all times, you may abound in every good work [human grace]."

Also, 2 Corinthians 9:11: "You will be enriched in every way [by God] to be generous in every way [toward others]." Divine grace propels human giving.

But why is this the case?

Why does our human giving depend on God's initial gift of grace? Because "all things are from him, through him, and to him. To him be the glory forever and ever" (Romans 11:36).

As Paul asks the boastful Corinthians, "What do you have that you did not receive? Why then do you boast as if you did not?" (1 Corinthians 4:7).

The only appropriate response is, "Everything is a gift from God's hand."

David also declared, "All things come from you" (1 Chronicles 29.14).

John the Baptist also affirms what David declared: "A person cannot receive even one thing unless it is given him from heaven" (John 3:27). James agrees: "Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights" (James 1:17).

But God always gives his grace to his people for a particular purpose.

We see this in 2 Corinthians 9:8 above (indicated by "so that") and 9:11 (indicated by "to be").

When people in the world give gifts, they determine the purpose of their gifts. But when God's people steward God's grace, the purpose of giving must align with God's purposes.

Thanks be to God

Why? Because our possessions are God's.

He's the Giver and the owner of grace.

We're simply stewards who mediate his grace.

In a sense, we're co-owners, but God never relinquishes his divine right over our possessions.

This becomes evident when we discover who receives thanks for the gift that the Corinthians give to the Jerusalem saints. Paul writes,

You will be enriched in every way to be generous in every way, which through us will produce thanksgiving to God.

For the ministry of this service is not only supplying the needs of the saints but is also overflowing in many thanksgivings to God.

By their approval of this service, they will glorify God because of your submission that comes from your confession of the gospel of Christ, and the generosity of your contribution for them and for all others, while they long for you and pray for you, because of the surpassing grace of God upon you. Thanks be to God for his inexpressible gift!

Why will humans direct their thanksgiving to God rather than to the human giver? Because, ultimately, humans do not receive from but through other humans. The final giver is God. He, therefore, deserves the final glory.

But does this mean that when I receive a gift from another human, I should never thank that person?

Of course not. John Calvin's Geneva Catechism #234 is helpful here. He writes,

Question: But are we not to feel grateful to men whenever they have conferred any kindness upon us?

Answer: Certainly we are; and were it only for the reason that God honours them by sending to us, through their hands, as rivulets [or streams], the blessings which flow from the inexhaustible fountain of his liberality. In this way, he [God] lays us under obligation to them and wishes us to acknowledge it. He, therefore, who does not show himself grateful to them by so doing, proves himself to be ungrateful to God.

We thank God by thanking others, remembering that his gifts come from him but through others.

And so our thanks should flow through others back to God — the Father of every good and perfect gift — as Paul does when he ends 2 Corinthians 9:15 by saying, "Thanks be to God for his inexpressible gift!"

More than human love

Recently, a close friend of mine bestowed on me a very generous gift. I was floored by his loving generosity toward me and my family, especially my mom. He loved my mom with an earnest love for widows.

But his love was no mere human love. It was divine. Not that my friend is God. But God loves through means.

Ηe channelled his abundant love on us through this friend, allowing us to witness the beauty of divine and human grace for those in need.

His act of generosity was simultaneously a gracious act of self-giving, and it immediately redirected my eyes and heart to the self-giving love of Christ.

It was therefore more than fitting to turn to my friend and say, "I thank God for ‘the surpassing grace of God upon you'" (2 Corinthians 9:14).

• David Briones is David Briones is associate professor of New Testament at Westminster Theological Seminary. He is the author of Paul's Financial Policy: A Socio-Theological Approach.
• First published in Desiring God. Republished with permission.

"When Jesus wants to teach us how a Christian should be, he tells us very little," the pope said, but he shows people by feeding the hungry and welcoming the stranger.

Celebrating Mass in the chapel of the Domus Sanctae Marthae June 8, the feast of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, the pope spoke about the boundless love of Christ, "which surpasses knowledge."

It is not easy to understand, he said, but God expresses his infinite love in small, tender ways.

In the day's first reading, the prophet Hosea says the Lord loved his people like a child, taking them into his arms, drawing them in, "close, like a dad" would, the pope said.

"How does God show his love? With great things? No, he becomes small with gestures of tenderness, goodness," he said. God stoops low and gets close.

In Christ, God then became flesh, lowering himself even unto death, the pope said, which helps teach Christians the right path they should take.

"What does (Jesus) say? He doesn't say, 'I think God is like this. I have understood God's love.' No, no. I made God's love small," the pope said, that is, he expressed God's love concretely on a small scale by feeding someone who was hungry, giving the thirsty something to drink, visiting a prisoner or someone who is ill.

"The works of mercy are precisely the path of love that Jesus teaches us in continuity with this great love of God," he said.

Therefore, there is no need for grand speeches about love, he said, but there is a need for men and women "who know how to do these little things for Jesus, for the Father."

Works of mercy continues that love, which is made small so it can "reach us and we carry it forward," Pope Francis said.

Sources

• America
• Image: CNN

As she handed me the crayons, there would be the warning, "Don't go over the lines!"

I always did.

In spite of good intentions, a crayon would slip, or I'd try to improve the picture by adding a sun or moon or some flowers, and then I'd be in trouble.

I guess I'm the sort of person who has always gone over the lines, and sometimes there has been disapproval from people who are neat and tidy.

There is no right or wrong about this; it's just the way God made us.

I admire the tidy people who create order in the world, and I sometimes envy their gift of staying within boundaries.

Those in my camp, often trip over lines in their enthusiasm and end up with faces in the mud, which is not the best place to be.

Still, there is consolation in the number of characters in the Bible, who messed up. Even great leaders got in the mud somewhere along the way.

There was Jacob who cheated his brother Esau, Moses who had to run away after killing an Egyptian, David who took another man's wife. All of that was dramatic mud.

Then in the Gospels, we have Peter the classic example.

Time and time again, his eagerness to do the right thing took him over the edge into error.

Fortunately, Jesus understood him.

Actually, Jesus was very understanding of people who made wrong choices.

The only lines he himself went past, were lines that were crooked and false.

He loved the people who were not afraid to be human, and if they made mistakes, he invited them to learn from their error.

Mud is good stuff for new growth.

Perhaps Jesus most popular parable is the story of the two sons and the loving father.

Was one son better than the other?

No, they were simply different.

While one was happy to stay home, working on the land, the other was restless, wanting to know what the world out there was like.

He soon found out.

The world was quick to relieve him of his money, and he ended up with a job feeding pigs.

Why pigs?

We remember that pigs were unclean to the Jews, and this suggests the lad had really hit rock bottom.

The hero in the story is the father.

He knew his sons were different and he loved them equally.

This is where we come into the parable, so glad that difference doesn't matter to God who embraces us all with the same abundant love.

With a bit of practice, maybe I too, will see past differences.

People who go over the lines and people who stay within them, are equally God's favourites.

It's a great parable.

Well, maybe not great for the fatted calf; but that's another story.

• Joy Cowley is a wife, mother, grandmother, great-grandmother and retreat facilitator.
• Image: RNZ

However, too often we want to take control of this grace in a kind of a spiritual book-keeping, Pope Francis said during his homily at Mass this morning in the chapel at Casa Santa Marta.

"God's closeness is such that he is presented like a mother, a mother who talks to her baby, and sings lullabies to her baby... This is God's tenderness. And He expresses his closeness with tenderness: the tenderness of a mother".

God's love is free - the Pope continued - just as a mother's love is for her child. And the child "allows himself to be loved": "this is the grace of God."

"But many times, just to be sure, we want to control the grace."

He said that "in history and also in our lives we are tempted to transform grace into a kind of a merchandise, perhaps saying to ourselves something like "I have so much grace," or, "I have a clean soul, I am graced."

"In this way this beautiful truth of God's closeness slips into a kind spiritual book-keeping: 'I will do this because it will give me 300 days of grace ... I will do that because it will give me this, and doing so I will accumulate grace'."

"But what is grace? A commodity? That's what it appears. And throughout history this closeness of God to his people has been betrayed by this selfish attitude, selfish, by wanting to control grace, to turn it into merchandise".

"The grace of God - Pope Francis said - is another matter: it is closeness, it is tenderness. This rule is always valid. If, in your relationship with the Lord, you do not feel that He loves you tenderly, you are missing something, you still have not understood what grace is, you have not yet received grace which is this closeness".

Source

• Independent Catholic News

"Remember, but for the life-giving and loving gaze of God, you are but dust and to dust you shall return.

"In reality there is no profit, no extra, no surplus, because all is God's, and but for God's generosity, there is nothing."

On Monday my Facebook feed revealed that a friendly acquaintance has an article coming out in a prestigious academic journal.

While I wish my first thoughts had been,

"Oh good, some new take on the world that I'll be able to ponder and perhaps learn from,"

they were more in the direction of,

"He hasn't even finished his doctorate yet and he's getting published in this bigwig journal? Jealous… Maybe there's something I could turn into an article and submit?

"That would look really good on my resume, plus I'm closer to finishing my degree than he is." Continue reading.

Bradford Rothrock is a PhD candidate in Theology and Education at Boston College, USA. His research interests are focused on issues related to pedagogy and the doctrine of God.

Source: Daily Theology

Image: Preachers' Institute

I walked over a carpet of camellia flowers - some pink, some brown, some crackly, some squishy. They need to be collected and put on the compost to be transformed, and later, to transform.

I thought, I am a Catholic but … there is a time for even the most beautiful things to die off and become transformed.

Spiders, weevils, woodlice, cockroaches all scuttle and scurry as I lift chunks of wood. They will find new homes best suited to them.

I thought, I am a Catholic but … sometimes we need to 'rehome' ideas, people, practices as they become displaced or irrelevant to current needs.

The tuis feasting and singing above me in the camellia will only be there for a short time. Then they will move on to another source of nectar. To stay put would be a death sentence.

I thought, I am a Catholic but … rituals, doctrines and practices need to reflect the seasons of our lives - spiritual, physical, intellectual, social, economical.

The wheelbarrow I use to transprt the wood is fit for purpose. The tyre is pumped; the joints greased; the barrow emptied of detritus - no extra baggage.

I thought, I am a Catholic but … we all need regular maintenance, cleansing, purging even. Every individual, and the Catholic Church, need to continually and prayerfully ask, "Am I a fit vessel to reveal God's love?"

Stacking the firewood is not just about satisfying the needs of the present moment (clearing the driveway) but also looking to the future (drying the wood for next winter).

I thought, I am a Catholic but … rigidity and inflexibility and an unwillingness to hear and consider the needs of the present moment and of tomorrow may well be self-destructive.

If I thought only of the needs of the firew0od, the trees would never have been felled. They would still be growing strong in forests, generating oxygen, seeking the sun. But the trees are found and felled for the greater good, the Common Good.

I thought, I am a Catholic but … inward-looking, self-serving, power-hungry bureaucrats do not reflect God's unconditional, covenantal love.

I look at the stacked wood and am in awe. All these varieties, different ages, shapes and textures, side by side (except for the occasional tumble when I ignore the laws of physics!).

I thought, I am a Catholic but … I wish that we could explore our differences; cherish our unique identities; be open to changes in our world and in our relationships; deal pragmatically with collapse; and all enable the other to become what we are invited to be.

• Liz Pearce, a mother of three adult children, loves story, writing, and dollmaking www.heartfeltdolls.weebly.com

"I am amazed how often I meet people who 'once were Catholics'. You never ask why they left the church. There will be umpteen reasons why just as there are umpteen people. But millions have remained true to their Catholic faith." Merepeka Raukawa-Tait in The Daily Post, March 19, 2013

I wondered …

"Why do I still call myself Catholic?

I was born into a Catholic family. Baptised as soon as possible after my birth, for fear I may end up in Limbo if I should die. My world was Catholic - almost a ghetto-like mentality.

So … I am Catholic by enculturation.

I was educated in Catholic schools, at great financial sacrifice. I did not have a lay teacher until I was 16 years old. Later, I participated in distance-learning courses; workshops and seminars. And, always, a commitment to self-learning and exploration.

So … I am Catholic by education (maybe even, indoctrination?).

At 15, I had a powerful, mystical experience which confirmed for me the existence of a loving, personal God. Catholic worship provided a vehicle for me to encounter this God, and a foundation from which to explore LOVE's nature. About 5 years later, I was told by a couple after Mass, that they were leaving the Catholic Church because of me - they wanted what I had: an intimate and loving relationship with God. I was bewildered - why were they leaving when the relationship I had existed within the Catholic Church?

So … am I Catholic because I didn't know anything different?

Years of self-doubt followed, compounded by attendance at a tertiary institution where there was no overt Catholic presence, and increasing social isolation. I became actively involved in parish ministry, partly as an escape from my situation; partly out of habit; and partly as a desire to belong and to be loved. I delighted in my varied ministries. I delighted in my daily encounters with God.

So … am I Catholic because it offers sanctuary?

Here I am - a woman of mature age - still Catholic, but a fringe dweller. No longer involved in active, parish-based ministry. No longer distraught at the decision of others to leave institutional church. No longer living in fear of a wrathful, punishing God. I use the foundational truths of the Christian faith, my Catholic faith, as a springboard for a love affair with God.

I believe that every human being is a beloved child of God.

I believe that every person, whether "Catholic", "once were Catholic" or "never were Catholic", encounters the divine. How we identify this encounter, name it or claim it, is unimportant.

I call myself Catholic because it is my culture; the ritual, metaphor, art and liturgy resonate with me; and I believe all the strands which connect me with the divine - Word, sacrament, silence, prayer, art, ecology, social justice - are present within the Catholic Church.

It just doesn't get it right all the time. It is a large, unwieldly bureaucracy which loathes change.

• I still practice as a Catholic because
• I need to sit next to others who also love God;
• I need to praise God, and remember God, in community;
• I need to see God revealed in humanity;
• I need to be immersed in God-with-skin-on.

Mainly, I think, I am still Catholic because it is familiar, known, a comfortable fit. Like a long-term marriage, or a favourite jersey well-used, frayed, holey, loved.

Liz Pearce, a mother of three adult children, loves story, writing, and dollmaking www.heartfeltdolls.weebly.com

Resources

www.rotoruadailypost.co.nz

A couple of weeks ago I was caught up in a conversation with a group of people which left me wondering if they had really grasped the Good News of the Gospel at all. Their point of the conversation was all about sin and how dreadful the world is and what sinners we are. To me it seemed that their focus was on the need to be punished by God for our sinfulness. I was asking about redemption, salvation and the fact that we are loved by God, but it seemed to fall on deaf ears.

As I thought about it over the following few days, I remembered something I had written out in a kind of journal while at the seminary in the early 1970s. I share it with you in this newsletter as it helped me to understand the nature of God, and God's acceptance of us. I am sorry I cannot remember who the writer of this was.

"We are not permitted to nurse a sense of guilt; we must fully and completely accept and embrace God's forgiveness and love. Guilt feelings and inferiority feelings before God are expressions of selfishness and self-centredness; we give greater importance to our little sinful self than to God's immense and never ending love. We must surrender our guilt and inferiority to Him. His goodness is greater than our badness. We must accept God's joy in loving and forgiving us. It is a healing grace to surrender our sinfulness to His mercy."

The Good News is that God's goodness is greater than we can ever begin to imagine or fear to believe. Our challenge is to grow humbly in acceptance of God's immense love for us in a way that both honours the goodness of God and, in humility, allows us to be forever grateful for that goodness.

Archbishop Dew is the Archbishop of Wellington New Zealand