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“You are the salt of the earth; but if salt has lost its taste, how shall its saltness be restored? It is no longer good for anything except to be thrown out and trodden under foot by men.

“You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hid. Nor do men light a lamp and put it under a bushel, but on a stand, and it gives light to all in the house. Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven" (Mt. 5:13-16).

I am a coward.

No, really. I am. I fear and hate confrontation with a passion that, if instead was directed toward evil, would move mountains and save the world. As opinionated and outspoken as I can be, I usually only voice those opinions with trusted friends. I talk a good game, but can I play ball? Eh... heh.

I write this because I'm seeing our collective cultural insanity coupled with politics-as-usual coming home to our quiet West Michigan town, sending my old devil, anxiety, through the roof. It's hard not to fret.

At some point I may be called to stand up and say, no, that's not right, to be salt and light. And that terrifies me. To quote St. Thomas More in A Man For All Seasons, "This is not the stuff of which martyrs are made."

But God is gentle with the brokenhearted. When he asks of us more than we can give, he will give us what we lack. He is our source of peace.

I know this. But why is it so hard to believe sometimes?

For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities; for when I am weak, then I am strong (2 Cor. 12:10).

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From The Desert Fathers (ed. Benedicta Ward):

Lot went to Joseph and said, 'Abba, as far as I can, I keep a moderate rule, with a little fasting, and prayer, and meditation, and quiet: and as far as I can I try to cleanse my heart of evil thoughts. What else can I do?' Then the hermit stood up and spread out his hands to heaven, and his fingers shone like ten flames of fire, and he said, 'If you will, you can become all flame' (131).

Those of us who struggle with scrupulosity (myself included) fret about religious minutiae and often overdo our religious observance in an attempt to justify and perfect ourselves from our sins, real and perceived. Our fear of sin causes a great deal of anxiety; we struggle to know Christ's freedom.

The monk Lot shows us what the first step toward holiness looks like for the scrupulous person: a moderate (moderate!) rule, a little fasting, prayer, meditation, quiet, and cleansing our hearts of evil thoughts as far as is humanly possible (because having evil thoughts is sometimes outside our control).

Most importantly, Lot shows us the importance of seeking out spiritual direction, which St. Alphonsus Liguori says is necessary for the person suffering from scruples.

But as Abba Joseph shows us, there is more to Christian salvation than Lot's pious life. If we will, we can become all flame. This is theosis in a nutshell. Salvation is more than being saved from sin. Salvation is being saved for unity with God. And unity with God means being drawn into him to the point that we become him.

In Jesus our humanity has been united to God, which is to say that our humanity is united to divinity. God can do this without violating his nature as Creator or our nature as creature because he stands outside his creation. He is other and can therefore enter into his creation as he wills. He does not cease to be God; we do not cease to be his creatures. And yet we become him.

When we turn our attention from being saved from to being saved for, we discover how much God is fighting for us. For me, this was the single most important turning point in my struggle against scruples. When my spiritual director told me to meditate every day on God's love for me, I discovered that God isn't ready to jump on me for each and ever fault and failing. He is loving and patient with me because He wants - wants! - to give me his very self.

When I began to believe this, I began to experience freedom, despite those pesky scruples. I have learned that I can ignore my doubts (so hard to do, by the way) because God wants me to know the freedom he offers in Christ. By God's grace, if I keep my eyes on him, I too will become all flame.

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What is theosis? I've subtitled my blog "Theosis In Progress" with full understanding that theosis is a strange, obscure little word that I picked up from my theologian husband.

(It's cool being married to a theologian. Makes me sound way smarter than I actually am.) 

Definition: Theosis is a Greek word that the Western Church translates as deification.

Deification? 

Like, becoming a god?

You're right to be scandalized. I know I was when I first heard it. So let's back this soul train up.

When it comes to our salvation in Jesus Christ, most of us, consciously or not, fixate on what we are saved from—sin—without asking ourselves the question, What are we saved for?

The answer is heaven, of course. But let’s dig deeper.

Who is this Jesus Christ who claims to save us? Our faith tells us that He is the Word Made Flesh, God becoming human. But logically, how is this possible at all? Wouldn’t God annihilate his own nature in condescending to become his creation? Wouldn’t human nature be annihilated in being joined to God? Wouldn't God cease to be God, and the creature cease to be the creature?

The answer is no. Because God transcends his creation—He is not the highest thing within creation, but stands outside it as being itself—he can enter into his creation without violating it. Bishop Robert Barron states in his book Catholicism:

The Incarnation tells central truths concerning both God and us. If God became human without ceasing to be God and without compromising the integrity of the creature that he became, God must not be a competitor with his creation . . . The Word does indeed become human, but nothing of the human is destroyed in the process; God does indeed enter his creation, but the world is thereby enhanced and elevated.

God is not in competition with his creation, nor is he in competition with us. He does not violate the integrity of his creation, nor does he violate our integrity. Instead, as Bishop Barron states, by entering into it, God raises it up. Bishop Barron continues:

And the Incarnation tells us the most important truth about ourselves: we are destined for divinization. The church fathers never tired of repeating this phrase as a sort of summary of Christian belief: Deus fit homo ut homo fieret Deus (God became human so that humans might become God). God condescended to enter into flesh so that our flesh might partake of the divine life, that we might participate in the love that holds the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit in communion.

This is a radical claim. Our salvation is nothing less than God’s transforming us into Himself. This claim is so radical that at first we might balk. It sounds heretical. And yet it is the consistent teaching of the Church, starting with St. Peter (cf. 2 Peter 1:4) and St. Paul (cf. Galatians 4:4-7) and repeated in our day in the very first paragraph of the Catechism.

Salvation is not simply about escaping hell. It is about God’s gratuitous gift of love and desire for complete union with us. Complete union.

Still scandalized? Good. It's God's scandal—a wonderful scandal.

Despite my bumbling and sin, God is drawing me—us—to himself. Theosis is in progress, because that's just the way God loves.