Disturb Us, Lord: My catholic Catholic Faith

I am really good at going on adventures and really bad at some of the transitions I’m required to make in order to adventure. The process of moving to London, England to study abroad for four months has been no exception, which is slightly frustrating and also slightly humorous. But mostly, it’s humbly human. And all the moving parts involved in moving to and settling into London have led me to cling to the one part – the whole, really – that does not change: God.

When winter break rolled around last month, I packed up my cozy dorm room and moved out, saying goodbye to dear friends and a campus I have come to call home. Two weeks later, I left my home in Portland and said goodbye to my family with my entire life in two bags, and I questioned my sanity. Upon arriving in London, an immense tornado of blended excitement, nervousness, and disorientation flooded my being as I attempted to learn my way around a place I had only dreamed about that had suddenly become my new home.

As 140 jetlagged Spring London students began splitting off into groups for meals and activities, a certain amount of low-key panic set in. Which friends was I supposed to be making? Would the people I talked to within the first couple days determine travel plans throughout the rest of the semester? What if I was missing out on group texts that revealed key information about future events with awesome people? My mind reverted to its eighteen-year-old-fresh-college-student mentality, paired with a more mature desire to be known and loved here, which led to some moments of (irrational) insecurity.

Beyond these silly queries, there were more practical questions to be answered. Where should I buy my groceries? Why can’t I understand British accents (aren’t they also speaking English)? What in the world is an Oyster Card? (I have since learned that it’s for public transportation, and have used it many times). For the duration of my first week in London, my head whirled in a constant state of questions. The learning curve was steep.

On my third day in London, I noticed God taking control. He reminded me about the peace only He can bring. Sure, in prayer I had been asking God to bless my time here, challenge my classmates and me to grow and flourish in this new home of ours, and help me solve the petty worries I expressed in my earlier flood of questions. But I had neglected to ask Him for what I really needed, which was a moment of peace, of rest, of love. He, knowing better than I, provided one anyway.

Last Saturday, I arrived in my classroom building for an orientation session a bit early, and decided to explore. I ended up on the fourth floor and entered the unassuming door marked “Chapel” in a sort of daze (which was half caused by remnant jetlag and half the result of laboring up four sets of very steep steps which seem to characterize all buildings here). Upon entering the cozy worship space at the top of a bustling building of academia, I simply sunk into a chair and wept. God had provided what I didn’t know I needed all along. In the midst of an uprooting transition during which seemingly nothing had been certain, I was given the gift of dwelling in the real, physical presence of the Eucharist within the tabernacle. Complete peace enveloped me as I gazed at the sanctuary lamp indicating Christ’s presence. This peace allowed me to distance myself from the disorienting task of creating a home in the heart of London enough to be utterly grateful for the chaos that I had formerly felt discouraged by.

Gratitude has infused my general disposition ever since my encounter with the Eucharist in the chapel last week. Gratitude for the people around me, for the constantly new sights and smells and tastes I have been blessed to experience, for the adventure that comes with being in a new place. All of this gratitude is rooted in a thanks for something bigger, the thing which allowed me the encounter of gratitude in the first place last week: my catholic Catholic faith. The word “catholic” means “universal.” I am blessed to be part of something so infinitely bigger than myself that it brings me to humble, joyful tears as it did in the chapel last week. Each time I have directly encountered the physical Eucharist since then – in Adoration and in several Masses in various settings – I have come to the same realization: no matter where I go to celebrate Mass, it will always look basically the same. The same sacred liturgy is celebrated. The same Eucharist is really present. The same Body of Christ is manifest in the people gathering around the same table of the Lord. My catholic Catholic faith has rooted me in hope here in London.

St. Patrick's Cathedral, where we celebrated Mass last Sunday

Westminster Cathedral, where we celebrated Mass this Sunday 

The exterior of Westminster Cathedral

As a person who struggles with transitions, I take great comfort in routine. As a person who finds joy in spontaneity, I love to engage in adventures within my routine. In the midst of the chaos of settling into a semester abroad, the Eucharist has provided me with a sense of both routine and adventure. God has guided me, through several encounters with the Eucharist so far, to take comfort in the catholicism and the Catholicism of my faith. I am extremely grateful.

A prayer for this semester:

Disturb us, Lord, when

We are too pleased with ourselves,

When our dreams have come true

Because we dreamed too little,

When we arrived safely

Because we sailed too close to the shore.

Disturb us, Lord, when

With the abundance of things we possess

We have lost our thirst

For the waters of life;

Having fallen in love with life,

We have ceased to dream of eternity

And in our efforts to build a new earth,

We have allowed our vision of the new Heaven to dim.

Disturb us, Lord,

To dare more boldly,

To venture on wilder seas

Where storms will show Your mastery;

Where losing sight of land,

We shall find the stars.

We ask you to push back the horizons of our hopes,

And to push back the future

In strength, courage, hope, and love.

We ask this in the name of our Captain, who is Jesus Christ.

Amen.

-Sir Francis Drake