My world is in constant tension. Martin Luther said it well, when he likened the whole of human history to a drunken man repeatedly climbing up one side of a horse and falling off the other. It's not without irony, of course, that he was in the middle of just such a "drunken fall" himself... Still, his insight is impressive.

I completely relate. I'm pulled in so many directions, as I try to balance the weight of responsibility with my desires for family, friendship and leisure, as well as with my deep longing for prayer and study; each of these areas place a legitimate demand upon my life. If I ignore any one of them, I'm out of balance, and my entire life suffers. But this isn't the half of it. How do I enjoy the
goodness and pleasures of life without succumbing to the insidious temptations of indulgence that lurk around every corner of genuine satisfaction? The more I desire to live in this tension, the more insurmountable the demands of reality become. My limitations and brokenness make my ability to "ride the horse" a constant struggle, a deplorable frustration. And so I fall.

Truth is always too demanding; it's too intense, too painful. So I'm tempted to create my own realities. I want to be this kind of person, so I must see reality to be this as well (at least for the moment of gratification). Interestingly enough, God creates reality. So, as you might imagine, I've only ever found sadness and ultimate isolation in my attempts to create my own (though, the temporary illusion of satisfaction is not without enjoyment).

It's all about living in the tension of moral goodness -- in reality. The repressive, puritanical rejection of earthly goods and pleasures represents one side of the horse, while the indulgent, hedonistic lust for all forms of sensual delight represents the other. I don't, of course, fall into one or the other of these abuses entirely; but I've embraced certain attitudes and justified certain
tendencies that allow the seductive poison of these two extremes to affect my life. How do I remain on the horse?

I've discovered the answer in Catholicism. Staying on the horse requires my ability to remain in the tension of truth -- and the mission of the Church is to enable me to do it.

  The Church puts me in contact with the real. I've struggled with so many questions. How can God be one substance, but three persons, for example? Or, how in the world can God become a man? It's in giving that I receive; what does that even mean? And, my all-time favorite, we're both
free and predestined? The Church articulates these counterintuitive truths in such a way that everything is reconciled. My objections are removed. There's no contradiction, after all.

 The Church teaches me right action. I know I should have learned it long ago through the philosophers, but Catholicism has taught me that virtue -- the tension between indulgence and repression -- is the secret to happiness. It also points out to me why certain actions can't be moderately performed. That's why drinking alcohol, for example, can be enjoyed in moderation, but fornication, on the other hand, is always wrong. Alcohol infringes upon human dignity only when abused; fornication, however, is an intrinsic assault on my person, no matter how small "the dose", or how powerful my feelings.

When I struggle with the why behind certain prohibitions, I'm being called to trust that Christ and the Church are one, and that the Bride has been entrusted to speak with the Bridegroom's authority. I'm being called to obedience even when I don't understand. And I'm being called to pray for the Holy Spirit, that he might lead me in these areas of confusion.

The beauty of Catholicism is that it doesn't simply affirm the nature of reality and moral goodness; it provides me with the strength to put that knowledge into practice. The sacramental life is a participation in
supernatural life. Through it, Jesus penetrates my understanding and 
experience. It's the source of strength by which I come to subject my opinions, feelings, and appetites to the truth of God's design for human life. It's often a painful process, and much of it is an ongoing
transformation, but the sacraments re-create me in Christ.
"Behold, I make all things new" (Revelation 21:5).

Catholicism understands the great drama of my existence. My battle to live in this tension is humanly impossible without the life of grace (i.e. the Holy Spirit). In mercy, God's love flows unconditionally through the sacraments of the Church. In truth, God's love calls me never to settle for brokenness. There's a way I ought to live, a way that empowers me to live in the tension, a way to true freedom and fulfillment. God has designed his Church to provide not just the road map (moral truth) but also the fuel (divine love). Catholicism is "the way" (Acts 9:2). This is my faith; and, because I trust in Jesus Christ, my conscience is continually calling me to listen to the Church. It's the only way to stay on the horse.

The beauty of Catholic culture is that it transcends culture. There's nothing else like it. The Church has a unique ability to insert itself into  any society of peoples, while upholding the integrity of their cultural expression. This incarnational quality expresses the essence of the gospel message. Jesus descended into the 'muck' of human culture,
and transformed it. He didn't destroy the earthly reality; instead, he redeemed it, and he continues this renewal from within today. 

Through the Holy Spirit he offers human society the life of God -- and promises to make it more perfectly itself. The mystery of humanity is revealed when Jesus enters into it.

When God became man, he reaffirmed the goodness of our nature, and he removed all doubt through his resurrection and ascension into heaven. Humanity has been taken up into the Godhead. The physical world has a divine destiny. The way we live matters; and it's meant to express something of heaven. The body, as it turns out, is eternally relevant. 

Redemption is never destructive.

Such is the nature of Catholicism. When the Church enters into the 'muck,' it does no violence to it whatsoever. Rather, it (slowly) subjects human society to the power and truth of the Cross, and thereby heals it of all that is violent and broken; then, Jesus, through his Church, fashions culture
anew and calls it to realize the perfection of it's earthly splendor. Finally, Catholicism is designed to elevate every culture to the glorious heights of the kingdom of God, to a participation in supernatural life.

The New Evangelization is about renewing culture, not through the annihilation of regional and racial differences, but through the elevation of our unique human expressions to the perfection and glory of a humanity alive in Jesus. We're called to affirm the good in culture, and to recognize
him in "whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is gracious, [and] if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, [we ought to] think about these things" (Philippians 4:8). 

The Church is called to embrace every culture with the light of Christ. That's what makes Catholicism a truly "catholic" (i.e. universal) way of life.

Everyone has an innovative approach to proclaiming the gospel these days. Most of what I find is helpful, if not transformative, for my ministry. However, it's rare that I come across anyone emphasizing what seems to me a diabolic rift right down the center of the Church. How do we reconcile the stark political divisions that trigger so much awkwardness and silence conversations almost instantly?

I don't want to be too categorical here but, over the last century, two seemingly opposed "camps" have emerged as bitter opponents within the Church. And most of us find ourselves safely encamped on one side or the other. Of course I'm talking about the surge in social advocacy that has risen on the political "left"; and, on the "right," a steadfast stance on doctrinal truth and traditional morality. The rift is so sharp that it's not uncommon to encounter a "conservative" who immediately rolls his eyes at the mere mention of social justice, or a "liberal" who recoils indignantly at the insensitivity and intolerance of traditional values.

In large part, we can blame all this on the dominant two-party system in modern politics. The rigorous State categories of Democrat and Republican, liberal and conservative, have tempted many Catholic faithful to politicize the Church. But each of the sides possess partial truths, an incomplete gospel. Since we live not just in the State but in the Church as well, we need to be careful not to let our political affiliations undermine our faith. 

I want a comprehensive faith. The gospel is only the gospel when it's complete, and this almost always means a call to conversion in one or another area of our lives. If we want to reconcile the political tensions, the truth each side clings to must be affirmed, redeemed, and lived. Let's face it, the conservative that holds to orthodoxy and frowns upon immoral lifestyles, yet rejects the demands of social justice, preaches a gospel without love, a faith without works. On the other hand, the liberal who's willing to compromise truth for the sake of love renders his efforts void of all merit and a groundless appeal. 

If I can use a metaphor, a significant task in the New Evangelization is to proclaim a "tripod of faith": doctrine, morality, and social justice. These integral aspects won't survive in isolation; only in the light each sheds on the other can the world encounter the authentic message of Jesus Christ. Revealed truth (i.e. doctrine) provides for an authentic, lasting love and calls us to live for others. Apart from this truth and a genuine concern for one's neighbor, morality is an ungrounded ethic with nothing to impel action beyond a minimalistic and selfish motivation. Social justice by itself is a secular humanitarianism that replaces the importance of imitating Christ with a merely
human love of neighbor. Doctrine without morality and social justice results in an intellectualized faith that cannot pass the final test: "Whatsoever you did to the least of these...you did unto me" (Matthew 25:31-46).

If we don't live with the knowledge that we're in a battle, quite frankly, we're in serious trouble. Our souls are on the line. Knowledge of the devil is vital information if we're to live as free persons. Granted, we need to be discerning in how much we develop certain ideas around small children, but pop psychology underestimates our ability to know, understand, and live the full
truth of Jesus Christ. 

If Jesus is real, so is the devil. If the devil is real, we have an enemy. If we have an enemy, our freedom is in danger. My child can't live without knowing the devil because life is not the mere intake of oxygen. Life is about the freedom of the sons of God. If we want to live, we need to be able to identify and defeat the enemy.