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My son and I are working on a project together. He is trying to keep his room clean, and so am I. To be honest, keeping things clean is a never-ending effort in our home.
There is no quick fix for the hurts and harm we cause, and it is no excuse to say we were simply being zealous for the Lord.
I live in Chicago, and around this part of the country, October is harvest time. Living in the city, it’s not always so easy to notice. However, every year since we moved here, my family and I have made an effort to get out to the country and enjoy a bit of the fall festivities.
Everyone grows up with pain. Through faith we can heal from it.
For more than 30 years, I have lived with mental health issues. Much of my life has been colored by chronic and, at times, severe depression. Circumstances of my childhood, including domestic violence and my mother’s rage-filled alcoholism, have left me with bouts of anxiety and post-traumatic stress.
Many years ago, long before I became a Catholic, I worked as a youth minister at a midsize Presbyterian congregation on the east side of Atlanta. In addition to weekly hangouts, the annual youth conference in Montreat, North Carolina, and the occasional car wash, we would also gear up every couple of years to go on a mission trip.
In his book The Foundations of Christian Faith, theologian Karl Rahner asks us to think about a man engaged in the simple act of buying a banana at the grocery store.
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