Guilt

H and I were walking to the parking lot from church last night when a minister (who looked a lot like JAZA) said to us, "You look like you would make great missionaries for holy week." We smiled at him, gave a nervous laugh, and said something like, "Maybe next time," before going on our way.

In the car, I was just racked with guilt. I realized that it was God speaking to me, asking me to do something for Him, and I had the gall to say no. I tried to justify it by saying I wasn't prepared to be a missionary, that I was dealing with my own faith questions and issues and so wasn't the best person to face a non-believer. It's not that I don't believe--I do, wholeheartedly. But in a sense, it is a blind sort of faith, one that trusts completely in my creator, one that cannot be explained by logic--the one thing that many skeptics rely on. If he would have said "Holy Week retreat," I probably would've agreed, because my spirit needs recharging. But missionary? Am I worthy?

But even these explanations could not assuage the guilt, because no matter what my reasons were, I feel like I let Him down. Mary wasn't prepared to be the mother of God, but she was willing to say yes to a lifelong commitment, without any misgivings. I wasn't even willing to say yes to one week, the holiest week of the year.

Oh, Catholics and our deeply ingrained sense of guilt! I must find a way to make it up to Him.