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Chapter One

Outside the Box

Taking Faith Beyond Our Comfort Zone

“You have to change your thinking if you desire to have a future different from your present.”

— Germany Kent

For many years, I kept God and my faith in a neat little box. The box was very attractive because it was convenient and comfortable. It was comforting to know it was there if I needed it — basically, only in emergencies. I closed my faith box during the week and opened it only on Sundays, when I went to Mass and closed it again after I came home from Mass. Within a few short months after I entered college, I had even stopped going to weekly Mass. There were those emergency moments when I would rush back to the local parish on campus with the lovely little faith box in hand. When my prayers were answered, though, the box went back into hiding. All was right with the world, or so I thought.

This attitude toward God and my Catholic faith didn’t happen overnight. There wasn’t one incident that catapulted me out of the Church. I was simply too involved in trying to forge a path for myself in the very competitive field of news broadcasting. Competing for coveted news internships, working at the radio station, and writing for the campus newspaper took up all of my time. Soon God just didn’t fit into my life anymore. It was a gradual drifting and desensitization. I still identified myself as Catholic if classmates or friends asked about my religious affiliation. But God just wasn’t at the top of my priority list.

My parents had spent a nice chunk of change sending me and my sisters to Catholic school. Thank the good Lord it was an excellent school that taught the Faith well. You might be wondering, “Well, if they did such a good job, why did you fall away from your faith?” For me, personally, the pull of the world was too strong. My teachers, both lay and religious, were very good at encouraging vocations, and not only vocations to the priesthood or religious life. They spotted my gift for gab when I was only in the third grade, and they decided to do their best to help me learn how to use that gift wisely. That led to small parts in school plays, forensics, and debate competitions. When I stepped inside my local high school, I walked almost immediately into the guidance counselor’s office to tell her that I had already chosen communications, and in particular broadcast journalism, as my field of interest. From there, I started working on the high school radio station and newspaper. Things were going just as I had planned and hoped.

Since I was still living at home, regular Mass attendance was a must. I obliged my parents but really didn’t give the God thing much thought beyond that, as everything was going so nicely and according to plan. At that point in my life, my faith box was still sitting on the dresser or table, so to speak, where I could grab it quickly if needed, but it remained for the most part closed.

Slowly, the box was placed up on a shelf inside a closet — out of sight, out of mind. Really, I was only open to the limited ideas I had of what faith looked like for an independent career girl like me. For decades that box was kept in the tiniest corner of my heart. Kind of like that old box of trinkets or mementos that are too special to throw out but also not very useful or appropriate in one’s current life. We hide it away, only to be recovered when we need an emotional boost or a warm and fuzzy nostalgic moment.

And inside my faith box, I did find some warm and fuzzy spiritual things, such as memories of growing up and attending Catholic grade school. I get teary eyed thinking about my experience of receiving Holy Communion for the very first time. The nuns had given us strict instructions on how to process down the long aisle of our church, how to sit, and how to receive Communion. What if I did something wrong?

And then there was that darned veil. Both my dress and veil were hand-me-downs from my older sister, who didn’t happen to have as much hair as yours truly. I could not for the life of me get my veil to stay put on my head. I was a nervous wreck. But I turned around and looked up at the choir loft and saw my dad smiling down at me with a look of pride on his handsome face. And then I looked back toward the altar and saw the beautiful image of Jesus, with his arms outstretched in a welcoming gesture.

I definitely had some warm and fuzzy God moments that over the years I could pull out of the box because I knew they would bring a smile to my face. And getting back to those wonderful teachers I had, there were also the fond memories of the sisters and lay teachers at my Catholic grade school. They showed a lot of patience and love toward a young girl who frequently got into trouble for talking too much in class.

A little deeper in my faith box were the foxhole prayers: the prayers I pulled out when I was frustrated or anxious. I would often say them in college on the night before a big exam or when sitting in my dorm room, just waiting for that cute guy in my political science class to finally give me a call: “Oh, please, God. I promise I will get back to Mass and be a good Catholic if you just answer this one prayer for me.”

Later in my life, the foxhole prayers pertained to career goals, taking the professional wish list out of the box, insisting that God bless that list and affirm it exactly as I saw fit. My box also contained the occasional formula prayer, such as the Hail Mary or the Lord’s Prayer. Mass was in there, too, but it was mostly reserved for Christmas and Easter, or when my parents came to visit.

Inevitably, after I had my brief God moment, everything would go back in the box, and the box would get buried once again, hidden behind all the other stuff I considered so much more important. The pattern of keeping God and my faith neatly and tightly packed away in a box had become routine. I was far too sophisticated and modern to need God for more than the occasional pick-me-up or 911 call.

This inside-the-box faith approach lasted until my early thirties, several years into my marriage and a high-profile media career. Sounds cliché but, basically, I hit rock bottom. It’s as if one day I woke up, finally started to look around, and everything I had spent so much time and effort building was crumbling. I had sacrificed so much of my personal life for my profession, giving up holidays, weekends, and nights at home. I ran into work for what seemed like every breaking news story, telling myself that because I had a supportive and loving husband, everything at home would be fine. After all, he was also very career-oriented, moving up the ladder quickly at his engineering firm. He worked a lot of extra hours, especially on weekends. We both had swallowed the yuppie (young urban professional) way of life. This is what was drilled into us back then, especially career-minded women. I have to say, looking back, that I was the more aggressive one. My husband started to feel that we were like the proverbial gerbils on the wheel, constantly running and getting nowhere fast.

You might be wondering what caused me to hit rock bottom and to wake up and finally realize that my life was literally going to hell in a handbasket. Well, some of us are more stubborn than others, and in order for God to get my attention, he had to take me out of my comfort zone, big time.

My first major “come to Jesus” moment happened when I was stripped of what I unfortunately held most dear: my job. To make a long story short, one day I was the lead story on the evening news. The next morning, I received a phone call from the assignment editor asking me to come in early. Given the size of my ego at the time, I just assumed the station had another major assignment that only I could handle, so I eagerly hopped out of bed and headed into the office early. To my surprise, within less than an hour, I was walking out of the station with a pink slip and a box of my personal belongings in my hands.

That was all I had to show for all of those very long days, nights, and weekends; all I had to show for the many sacrifices I had made in my personal life. The news director and station manager were making changes in the on-air team, and I was one of them. My contract was up for renewal, but since I hadn’t heard any bad news from my agent, I expected that it was only a matter of time before I was once again signing on the dotted line. Just the opposite happened. I ended up on the cutting room floor, along with several other staff members.

Given the volatile nature of the news business, I shouldn’t have been so shocked. The broadcasting business is brutal, and there’s an old line among broadcasters that TV and radio stations are pretty much equipped with revolving doors because changing and replacing on-air talent is practically an everyday occurrence. But when you build your entire world around your career, and that career takes a huge hit, it feels as if your world is crumbling.

At the time I thought my world could never be put back together. I thought it was the worst thing that could ever happen to me. But it ended up being a major blessing in disguise. It was the start of my long path back to healing both my marriage and my relationship with God. My husband and I had grown far apart, and my relationship with God was practically nonexistent. As painful as the firing experience was, the time off of work was crucial when it came to stepping outside my comfort zone and taking a good, long look at myself and my priorities — or lack thereof.

Here’s a news flash, something that it took me way too long to learn: God doesn’t belong in a box. What’s more, there isn’t a box on the planet immense enough for who he is and how much he loves us. Saint Paul reminds us of this: “O the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments and how inscrutable his ways!” (Rom 11:33). The prophet Isaiah also tells us “good luck” in trying to put omnipotence in a nice little package:

Have you not known? Have you not heard?

The Lord is the everlasting God,

the Creator of the ends of the earth.

He does not faint or grow weary,

his understanding is unsearchable. (Is 40:28)

Sadly, leaving our faith in a comfortable container, never allowing it to be part of our lives beyond Sunday (if we even take it as far Sunday Mass) has become the norm rather than the exception.

So now would be a good time to start examining your own faith box, to take a closer look at its size, its contents, and its location. Where do you keep that box? In many ways, it is understandable why that box might be kept under the bed, on a shelf, or in the shed. We let so many other things take priority.

Think about the important relationships in your life, as well as the most important activities. These are people, issues, or efforts to which you’re dedicated. They are not tucked in a box that is packed away somewhere. You grow to love someone by spending time with them. You’re passionate about your work or a particular cause because you have learned a great deal about these things and why they make a difference. Think about what your faith life, and in particular your relationship with God, might be like if you took a similar approach. If you’re already going to Mass once a week, have you ever thought about getting to church a little earlier to have some quiet time with God? Can you give him just a little bit more of your time and attention?

Maybe you were raised to believe that faith is a private or personal matter. Catholics, especially, did not, and still often do not, see themselves as evangelists, even though ironically that’s the reason the Catholic Church exists. Yes, the Church exists to evangelize, as Pope Blessed Paul VI (who will be canonized in 2018) reminded the world in his apostolic exhortation Evangelization in the Modern World:

“We wish to confirm once more that the task of evangelizing all people constitutes the essential mission of the Church” (“Declaration of the Synod Fathers,” 4: L’Osservatore Romano [October 27, 1974], p. 6). It is a task and mission which the vast and profound changes of present-day society make all the more urgent. Evangelizing is in fact the grace and vocation proper to the Church, her deepest identity. She exists in order to evangelize.³

Yet when a lot of us were growing up, much of the world agreed with the basic tenets of Christianity, so we really didn’t see a need to open the box or build a bigger and better one.

If this describes you, here’s where you can begin to move a bit outside that comfort zone. The first step is to think a little harder and a little differently. Seeing or treating faith as a private or personal thing is kind of a strange approach, isn’t it, if we know anything at all about the Gospel? The word “gospel” means “good news,” and good news is meant to be shared. When was the last time you kept a piece of really good news to yourself? So, actually, it’s odd that many of us were raised to keep the best news and the greatest story ever told to ourselves.

That said, evangelization comes later. Yes, we all have that responsibility, but when and how we evangelize takes some time, prayer, and discernment. It’s not all that different from other efforts in our lives. How many new parents do you know who right away go around sharing their parenting tips? Most new moms and dads are doing just the opposite: asking for help, advice, and input from more experienced parents. They learn, and eventually they share.

The primary way to share our faith is to live it to the best of our ability and with real joy. That’s what this book is all about. And as you begin to take further steps outside of your comfort zone, I encourage you to start thinking differently about what evangelization means and looks like.

There are plenty of ways to proclaim the Good News. Not everyone is called to stand on a soapbox in Central Park or at the local town hall, or even share on Facebook or Twitter. (Though, for the record, Pope Francis has one of the largest Twitter followings on the planet. Just saying.) Yes, we’re all called to evangelize, but evangelization comes in all shapes and sizes. You just need to find yours. It most likely will mean some movement and change in your life, but don’t panic. Remember, everyone is on a different journey, and we get there when we get there. We just have to be willing to take the faith box out of hiding and move, maybe slowly at first, but eventually, to a better place.

What’s in Your Faith Box? Taking Inventory

There is an old saying: “Good things come in small packages. And so does poison.” I think this is key to understanding what can happen in our lives — and, most importantly, in our hearts and minds — when we attempt to put God in a box and keep him at a safe distance. When we keep him at arm’s length, or even farther, we make ourselves extremely vulnerable to influences, messages, and ideologies that can — again speaking from personal experience — “poison” us.

If I was heavily influenced by the culture back in the 1970s, ’80s, and ’90s — before we had Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, hundreds of satellite channels, iPhones, iPads, iWatches, etc. — then how much more are we being formed by media today? It’s not that we are bad people, or that the people behind the messages we’re getting bombarded with constantly are bad, either (only God can judge hearts, after all). Yet the messages we receive from all sides are not designed to give us true joy and inner peace. They tell us that materialism, sex without attachment, and professional success (just to name a few) equal total fulfillment and happiness. But anyone who has gone down that road, including me, will tell you these things alone don’t bring happiness. Instant gratification is gone as fast as we attain it. And once it’s gone, we’re running on empty.

I was running on empty and going nowhere fast. It wasn’t until my life was spinning out of control that I finally cried out for help, and things slowly began to change. The soul-searching, along with the job search, lasted for some six months. At that point, my husband and I realized things had to change. If we were going to save our marriage, we needed help. Most importantly — and I believe this was our Catholic roots coming to the surface — we realized that we needed God in our lives. We made a commitment to get some counseling.

As I mentioned, my husband had already felt that we needed to address our fast-paced, and what proved to be empty, lifestyle. Since I was too busy at first to notice his discontentment, I went on my merry way, continuing at a very hectic pace. In the meantime, he was invited to a men’s Bible study by a mutual friend. It was a study that had a huge impact on his life and was actually the initial catalyst of our return to the Church. In the pages of Scripture, he rediscovered the Catholic Church and began to take classes at Sacred Heart Major Seminary in the Archdiocese of Detroit. Years later, this would eventually lead him to discern becoming a deacon. But that was a long way off.

In the meantime, after I lost my job, even though I agreed that we needed counseling and also agreed that we should start to take our faith seriously, deep down I was angry with God. Seems kind of silly, don’t you think? I really had no relationship with God, but I was angry with him and secretly blamed him for my problems. The really big turning point came when I simply cried uncle. I was finally getting a clue that God is God and I am not. My prayer certainly wasn’t sophisticated. I just prayed really hard, out of desperation.

God answered those prayers in a number of different ways, one of which was a job offer at another local TV station, which I eventually took. That’s when the real work began, though, because as my priorities changed and faith became the central part of my life, my career also changed. Joining the Bible study with my husband, getting back to Mass every week, and learning how to pray resulted in the scales falling from my eyes and me feeling very differently about the news business.