Kara Klein asks readers to ponder this question: if I choose to love the person in front of me, and worry only about today, do I trust that God will truly take care of my future?
Author Kara Klein
Do you ever feel like you’re not beautiful enough, and at the same time afraid to let your beauty shine? Kara Klein considers how many of us are afraid of not being enough, but deep down, are equally afraid of truly being seen and noticed.
Kara Klein wonders how many days she spends dreaming, planning, preparing all the ways she think she can build up God’s Kingdom, while she is literally forgetting to love the person right in front of her. During this Lenten season her prayer is to remember her deepest calling.
When Kara Klein first read Pope Francis’ speeches she, like many, felt anger. “Why would he stand before our government and not reprimand them for legalizing gay marriage and slaughtering millions of babies through abortion… key issues which the Catholic Church fights vigorously against?” But then she thought: “Who am I to judge?”
For as long as I can remember I essentially had one desire for my life: perfection… Yet my heavenly Father, through tragedies and painful times, took me to the place I had tried so hard to avoid, the place I least wanted to go: the place of my own great inner poverty… Yet there was my treasure, for there I encountered His goodness and mercy.
In her discussion about guarding our hearts, Kara Klein observes that intimacy is both joyful and uncomfortable. It’s our deepest desire to be one with another, to have someone see, know and embrace all of us—our beauty as well as brokenness—and yet, it’s our greatest fear precisely because of its risks.
In this Easter season we are called to bear the glory of God, the goodness of God, the love of God, His victory over sin and death, and people around us should see something different in us. A sparkle in our eyes, courage, a genuine kindness, true and authentic hope.
I said yes to chastity when I was 13 years old and have been living out this commitment joyfully and gratefully for the last 16 years. But what exactly did I say yes to? An abstinent life of waiting for the perfect prince charming to come along and fulfill all of my deepest dreams and longings? Or a life of choosing to truly love the other—whoever may be in front of me—selflessly, totally, freely, faithfully, fruitfully. Today.
Jesus was born into a dark, cold, empty cave. Into the barren blackness of the night. A King born for the poor, of the poor, as the poor. In becoming lovers of the poor, do we as followers of Christ dare to embrace not only the beggar on the street, but also the beggar within ourselves?