A Second Look. Mark Hart

darkness, and there is no more important gift you can help give than the gift of His salvation.

      So, pray with me now, that our hearts would be open, our minds humble, and our souls thirsty:

      Holy Spirit, be with us now. Direct our eyes to Christ and our hearts to the Father. Blessed Mother, swaddle us tightly with each turn of the page. Hold us close to your immaculate heart as you did your baby son and your crucified Lord.

      Come, Holy Spirit… Come, Holy Spirit… Come, Holy Spirit. Amen.

      Now, let’s take a walk.

       Chapter 1

Encountering Jesus Calls You to More

Christ and the Magi

      We have five Nativity sets in my house: not out of overindulgence, but out of sheer necessity. One set is for my one-year-old, who is still learning how to treat things gently and that the horns of an ox are not to be used as a weapon. One set is for my six-year-old, who likes to take a more “interactive” approach to the Nativity, including inserting Disney princesses and Barbies into the biblical narrative. Last year, when I asked why the baby Jesus was in Barbie’s convertible, she responded, “Barbie is baby-sitting, Daddy … the trip to Bethlehem left Mary and Joseph very tired.”

      The third set is for my nine-year-old. She doesn’t want anyone “messing up” the set by placing the figures the wrong way or in the incorrect order. The fourth set is for my “tween” who enjoys retelling the Nativity story from each character’s unique perspective … oftentimes adding accents to their voices. I’m not sure why the angels have an English accent in her brain, but the Gloria sounds classy, so I’m okay with it. The last is one very nice ceramic Nativity set high atop a bookshelf that my wife and I gaze upon and patrol diligently due to its fragility. A closer examination will reveal the angel has only one hand and the lamb only three legs, due to the “incidents” of 2007 and 2009, respectively (which again explains why it now sits up so high).

      Each set represents something special and important. As a father, I want my children to place themselves in the story. It is essential that they see the birth of Christ as meaningful and fundamentally important in their own lives. And as sons and daughters of God, you and I need to remember the same thing.

      It’s easy, though, for this to become just a story, isn’t it? It’s romantic and sacred and somehow almost too good to be true. This reality is a dangerous one. When we begin to view biblical truths through a purely historical lens, we lose something essential. Sometimes it’s healthy to re-imagine the scene again. As St. Francis (who gave us the first crèche) might suggest, picture the Nativity not as a set of figurines displayed on an end table, but rather as living, breathing souls huddled amidst the animals in a dimly lit cave on a cold winter’s night.

       Inspired by grace

      Swaddled tightly beneath a star-blanketed Bethlehem sky, God breathed gently yet powerfully. The acceptable time had come. The prophecies were now — at last — fulfilled. The Creator had invaded His creation on a mission of love and, for the next three decades, peace and joy would be breathed and “inhaled” (received) in tangible new ways.

      That night, the divine life of God was communicated through a tiny human breath. Put simply, God breathed not solely so that He might live but that we would. It’s fascinating how something so small, a breath, roughly eight ounces of oxygen, forms the line between life and death.

      The Latin word for breath — inspirare — is where we get the term “inspiration”; it literally means, “to breathe [life] into.” Inspiration, however, is far more than a biological word or concept; it is a deeply spiritual reality. God’s inspiration animates our Christian souls, guides our steps, and offers us both a mission and a purpose. We talk about how the Bible is the “inspiration” of the Holy Spirit … the Word of God through the pens of men. Stop and consider how vital this inspiration of God is to our faith and, indeed, our lives as Catholics! The Church is inspired, the sacraments are inspired, and — with any luck — with every encounter we witness on the pages of sacred Scripture we, too, are inspired. We breathe in God’s life (grace) that we might share it. Inspiration leads to respiration.

      When we begin to view biblical truths through a purely historical lens, we lose something essential.

      Since you began reading this you’ve probably taken between twenty and thirty breaths (fifty if you’re reading it on a treadmill, which isn’t safe, but hamsters applaud your effort). We know, of course, that inspiration is vital not only for our bodies but also for our souls. It’s when we realize how desperately we need oxygen that we come to appreciate it more.

      It’s how our story began, after all (or, “before all,” if you want to get technical). Life began because God spoke; He breathed the word (see Gn 1:3) and creation spun into existence. It was when God breathed life into Adam, however, that things got even more interesting (Gn 2:7). Creation now bore the ability to inspire: to procreate life in God’s image.

      We often speak about the people and the things that inspire us — heroic characters, timeless tales — heart-stopping and soul-stirring moments that ironically bring us life by taking our breath away. Authentic inspiration is a gift from God, the giver of all good and perfect gifts (see Jas 1:17).

      Now would be a good time to take a deep breath, actually, because throughout the sacred Scriptures (also, inspired by the Spirit’s breath) you might notice that rarely does anything life-changing or soul-altering occur in a primary character until after God has moved them. Looking back, you might come to find the same rings true in your own life.

      Abram and his family were moved well over 2,500 miles before God revealed the patriarch’s true mission. Moses was a murderer hiding in the desert wilderness before God called him back to Egypt and, then, on to Sinai and the Promised Land. Joshua fled. Elijah ran. Esther’s family was deported into captivity. Even Jeremiah, though left behind in an increasingly desolated Jerusalem during the Babylonian capture, was “moved” from his comfort zone to a prophetic life of deep sorrow and eventual peace. God often moves those He loves to create more “space” for Him, to shake us free from created things (see Heb 12:26) and leave only what is unshaken (Heb 12:27).

      What does this mean for you and me, personally? It means that God is the irresistible force often trying to call us immovable objects forward; the Father desires the ill-tempered brats to become malleable children.

      Ask yourself: “Has God been trying to move me? Has the Father been trying to get this child’s attention and, if so, have I actually listened, or have I put in the ‘earbuds’ of modern busyness, stress, overwork, and self-involvement?”

      If we want to see Jesus, we have to take our eyes out of our navels and peer up into the heavens.

       Grand reopening

      Have you ever driven by the “Grand Opening” of a restaurant or store? Oftentimes, you’ll see those giant moving spotlights out front, casting rays of blinding light into the night sky. The lights are designed to catch our attention, to announce something big, and to draw customers closer. Our human eyes are even more captivated by the mechanical lights shining up from earth than the light emanating down from the stars, stars that our ancestors affectionately called “the heavens.”

      Our hearts are often drawn to artificial “lights” the world has to offer. We seek earthly solutions to our heavenly desires. Some people run to food and others to drugs. Some run to relationships and others to screens. Some people’s artificial light is popularity, and for others it is money. There is an endless list of diversions and quick fixes, but nothing external can heal the void internal. It takes Christ. He is our healer and savior. He is the solution to our problem of sin. Jesus is both the surgeon and the solution; His very life (which we call “grace”) is our antidote.

      Look