The faith of a child....

Our sweet little Anna has a depth of faith that often stuns me. How one so young can grasp deep spiritual truths as easily as she does, baffles me. I've lost count of how many times, during the past year, she's turned to me in tears during Mass, because she's overwhelmed with the realization of being so close to Jesus. She's been known to burst into tears because "Jesus had to suffer and die because of my sins when He didn't even do anything wrong! I should be the one to die for my sins, not Jesus!! He didn't deserve that!" Pretty mature for a 5-6 year old. For the past few months she's been talking a lot about not wanting to have to wait until next year to make her First Confession. She's resigned to waiting until next year for her First Communion, but she's seemed burdened by having to wait for Reconciliation. Last month, after she'd been badgering me again ;), I told her we could talk to Father O'Grady and ask him if she could go ahead and make confession now. Here's how the rest of our conversation went:

Me-Honey, we'll need to take some time to make sure you understand how to make a confession first.

Anna- That's okay Mom, Father O'Grady will help me.

Me- That's true; he will. After he hears your confession, he'll want to know if you'd like to make an act of contrition.

Anna- What's an act of contrition?

Me-It's a prayer we pray out loud telling God how sorry we are for our sins because we know they hurt him. Then we promise God that we're going to try our best not to commit those sins anymore and we ask the Holy Spirit to help us keep our promise, because we know we can't do anything without His help.

Anna-Oh, I could do that, easy!

Me- Well, like I said, we'll have to talk to Father, first. What do you feel you need to confess, Honey?

Anna- Lying.

Me- Lying?!! When did you lie?!

Anna- Two years ago, when I was four. But, I'll tell Father that I was spanked for it!!

Me- :0!! Two years ago??! Sweetheart, that was all washed away when you were baptized last year.

Anna- I know, Mom. But I'll just feel better if I can confess it anyway. I don't know why I keep doing sins! I try not to, but I just do. I want to go straight to Heaven someday, Mom! I don't want to go to prigatory (Mom grin) first, just straight there. I want to be a saint!!

Me- I love you, Sweetie!


Good grief! What do you say to that kind of passion in a barely six year old?! So, last week the kids went to Wednesday CCD, like usual, and we all attended evening Mass together afterward. When Anna spotted me sitting in the chapel, she ran over and shouted whispered reverently "Mom! Father O'Grady let me make my First Confession!!!" Needless to say, I was a little surprised. Although, given the independence and confidence she's always shown, I should have known she'd take matters into her own hands. :) She volunteered that she'd confessed her two-years previous lying episode as well as much more recent disobedience at home. She told me Father asked if she was truly sorry for her sins, and she she told him "Yes! Sometimes I get so mad at myself! I tell myself "Anna! Why do you keep on doing sins? Every time you do another sin it's just like putting Jesus back on the cross! I don't want Jesus to have to be up there because of me!!" She prayed her own made-up act of contrition, then left the confessional and asked Josh to help her pray her penance prayers. She was so happy and calm to have made that step. And all by herself, too.


I was a little sad that I'd missed the chance to be there praying for her as she received her second Sacrament, but my sadness was eclipsed by a deep wonder. Wonder at the grasp this child has of the power of this Sacrament. Wonder at her simple, but very mature love of God. Wonder at the unquestioning faith she has in Jesus and his willingness and ability to cleanse and forgive all sin. Wonder at the genuine sorrow she feels about her own sins because she knows Jesus is hurt by each and every one.


I think this is what Jesus was talking about in St. Mark, when He said that anyone who does not receive the Kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it. As grown ups we spend so much time over-analyzing and over-thinking every little thing. But children don't waste any energy on such things. They just keep their little spirits open and listen to the Holy Spirit whispering in their hearts and they believe. So simple. So pure. So uncomplicated. We don't need to have all the answers if we know the Answer.


Lord, protect me from the desire to fill my head with arguments and evidence. Develop in my heart the child-like simple faith you require of those who want to enter your Kindom. Make me more like Jesus.

Time flies!

Today is the 1 year anniversary of the day we entered Christ's Church as a family. It doesn't seem possible that a whole year has already passed, yet in many ways it feels like we've always been here. I feel much the same way about our marriage. I can hardly believe we've been married for nearly 20 years, the time has gone so quickly! Yet on the flip side, I have a hard time remembering life before Matt because it seems we've just always been together. He completes me and is my soul-mate. With him I wear no masks and never question what's expected of me. I am me. But a more complete me than I ever was before marrying him. Had I never met Matt I wouldn't have realized how much was missing from my life; but with the blinders removed, the reality of us each being made for the other is undeniable.

The tangible sense of belonging and completeness that I feel in my marriage mirrors what I've found in Christ's Church. Had I refused the Holy Spirit's attempts to remove the blinders from my spiritual eyes, I never would have known how much I was missing in my walk with the Lord. From this side of the Tiber I can look back and see the signs of a soul searching for....I didn't know. But at the time, I would have taken offense to any charge of spiritual insecurity or uncertainty. The fact that I was still searching was something I barely acknowledged, even to myself, because it made no sense. How could I possibly be hungering for "more" when I had all there was?! The inspired, inerrant Word of God to guide my life, the Holy Spirit to personally reveal the Truth to me, the universal body of Believers to join with in worship and fleshing out our Christianity. Jesus, God incarnate, had died to pay the death penalty for my sins. He sent the Holy Spirit to be my guide and comfort and to seal me to the Father. He knows me intimately and loves me passionately. Yet knowing these truths didn't satisfy a subtle, almost imperceptible, desire for "more" in the deepest recesses of my heart. One of my oldest and closest friends pointed out to me several times throughout the years leading up to my "unveiling", that for as long as she's known me she's seen the common thread of my desire for complete personal surrender and more of Jesus. I couldn't ever quite put my finger on it, but on some level I always felt that there was "more". Countless hours spent in daily Bible study and prayer, scripture committed to memory, Biblical counseling training, multiple positions teaching, mentoring, advising. And always a niggling yearning for "more".

Exactly one year ago today my heart's deepest cry was answered. I came home. I'd heard that phrase but had no idea what it really meant until I experienced it personally. I knocked on the door, my Father answered, the Holy Spirit ushered me in, and I was seated at His banquet table and served the meal of my life! I was allowed to partake of the Bread of Life and drink the Living Water and, as Jesus promised, I thirst no more! My love for Him has grown in ways I didn't know it was lacking. I love him passionately! From the first moment His precious Body touched my lips something shifted fundamentally inside me. I felt completely aligned, if that makes any sense. It's hard to describe an internal change in words someone who hasn't experienced it will understand. To see me from the outside, no one would ever have guessed that something was missing in my spirit, but it was. And now it isn't. And I am left at times breathless and frequently overflowing with emotion at the "rightness" of being home at last.

This past year has been one of great personal and family growth. Our children have taken to the Faith like ducks to water. To hear them talk or observe the natural way our faith permeates their lives, you'd never know they haven't been raised Catholic. They look forward, as do I, to the times we get to spend adoring Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament. Being told they might have to miss daily Mass is a powerful motivator for laziness in our home! A couple of them become emotional to the point of tears after receiving the priceless gift of Jesus' Body in the Eucharist, or when talking about Jesus' suffering and dying for us. Their reverence and passion for our Lord has grown explosively since we entered His Church. And the funny thing is that we don't spend a lot of regular time catechizing them (like we should!), they just recognize the truth through childlike eyes and have completely embraced it. I could spend days going over all the scriptural and historical evidence for the authenticity of the Roman Catholic Church, but it's the dramatic internal changes we each have experienced that have made this so personal.

One of my biggest hang-ups about entering the Church was what it would cost me socially. Looking back I feel ridiculously superficial to admit it was a serious problem for me, but it was. (Time to get emotionally naked...)I enjoy being looked up to. I loved teaching Bible studies and seeing the proverbial light bulb go on in women's eyes. I loved all the words of affirmation and encouragement that were poured out over me. I loved getting verbal "warm fuzzies" about my spiritual giftings , Bible knowledge, prayer life, wisdom, and spiritual maturity. And I received each comment as confirmation from God that I was in His Will and doing what He's made me to do. But a part of me (much bigger than I would have ever admitted, even to myself!) thrived on the words. I was very good at verbally deflecting all accolades and pointing to God as the real source, but more than I realized, my inner pride monster was being regularly fed. And fed well. I thrived on women I looked up to telling me they were inspired by my life, or by something I'd said or done. The thought that those same women might question my previous ministry, or even my salvation, nearly paralyzed me. What if I lost some of the friendships I'd come to treasure? What if people got angry and forced an ugly confrontation? What if I lost the respect of those I deeply admired? What if my extended family acts weird and uncomfortable around me? What if people openly question my salvation? What will my peers in women's ministry say about me behind closed doors? How do I just walk away from everything I've avowed for years? From everything I've worked so hard for? The fear of being demoted to the status of "spiritual baby" within Catholic circles made me drag my feet even more. I knew what I knew because I'd studied God's Word diligently for years! I wasn't spiritually immature and I didn't want anyone thinking differently! I wasn't seriously considering jumping the Tiber out of ignorance of God's Word or a lack of real relationship with the Lord. Rather, God's Word and my relationship with Him steadily led me to the river bank. The more I read about what the early Church believed and practiced, the more I read key Protestant proof texts in context, the more I read the personal writings of the original reformer, the more I surrendered my comfort zone and layed it all on the line for His glory, the more clearly the lines were drawn. I reached a point where in order to maintain intellectual and spiritual integrity, I needed to jump. To do less would require lying to myself and selling-out for my own comfort and glory.

So I jumped. The minute my feet hit the ground on the other side of the Tiber I knew I'd come home. Home to a place I didn't know I was missing, but clearly the place of my heart's longings. In the blessed waters of Baptism all of the "what ifs" and their accompanying fears were washed away. In the sacrament of Confirmation I pledged my life to Him again and received his seal. In the Eucharist I fell into my Savior's arms and heard His heartbeat as I laid my head on His chest. Our marriage is now sacramental, and as silly as it sounds to assert that that makes any difference, it does. We've been taken to a whole new level together. Our "oneness" is complete in ways we couldn't have understood before receiving this blessing. It hasn't all been rosy. I've had to deal with rude comments made to me or our children about our "obvious confusion". I've faced awkward conversations and stilted greetings. I've dialogued with loved ones who feel personally affronted by our decision. And we have a few friends we probably won't have much contact with ever again. But what a small price to pay in order to embrace what He paid everything to give me.

So we enter our second year in Christ's Church. I'm no longer afraid of the potential confrontations. They provide opportunities for me to practice dying-to-myself, and also let me know who I need to pray for. My ministry efforts are focused homeward now, where they need to be in this season of our lives. I know my days of ministering to God's women are by no means over, and as much as I do miss it, my place is at home right now. As a family, we look forward to what the Lord has in store for us as we follow Him day by day. And with grateful hearts we thank Him for His love and His Presence.

Rome Pilgrimage, Part II

(At a grotto in the Vatican Gardens - Miss Abigail was in a bit of a snit)


As pilgrimage gifts we all received red sweatshirts that say "cool to be catholic" on the front. On the back is a big "1" surrounded by "one bread "one body", "one holy, catholic, apostolic", "one flock", "one shepherd". And at the bottom it says "so that they may be one, as we are one." - Jesus (John 17:22) These were a very cool gift! Abby and Anna's ended up being misplaced on the bus before I even saw them, so they didn't get their's until we got home. Hence, they look like misfits in all the pictures.

(The altar from Lourdes)

One of the paths that wends its way around the basilica grounds ends at a Marian grotto. It was build as a memorial to Lourdes and has the most beautiful, vibrant flowers planted around it. Inside the grotto is the original altar from Lourdes, which we thought was pretty cool. Lourdes is also on our list of places to visit before leaving Europe; and having part of our extended family relocating to halfway between here and there will be very convenient towards that end. ;)
Very few people were walking the back paths, so our walk had a private, secluded feel to it. A spirit of peace and 'rightness' permeated Vatican City. Despite the constant crush and chaos of people from literally all over the world, the Holy Spirit's presence was tangible. Not in an "Oooooohhh....I'm covered in God-bumps!" sort of way, but in a very real, very peaceful *knowing*, for lack of a better word. It's hard to articulate. It wasn't at all an emotionally hyped-up experience, but God's presence was powerful. I could almost hear Jesus saying "Let him who has ears, hear." Or let him who has eyes, see. So many people walking the halls, climbing the stairs, buying trinkets, and taking pictures. So many souls. How many of them know Him? Do they hear Him whispering in their ear that He loves them? That He left this Church to guide us to Him through His Holy Spirit? Do they hear? Or are their ears stopped up with what they think they know, filling them with fear or pride that prevents them from receiving everything He longs to give them? Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death.

(The cupola of St. Peter's from the path leading to the Marian grotto)


On our second day, as we were walking to a pizza stand for lunch, Andrew mentioned that just being there made him feel 'religious'. Not the empty-ritual 'religious', but a very real, everything's focused on God kind of 'religious'. I 'got' that! He walked into Vatican City a teenager struggling with wanting to compartmentalize some his Christianity, and left 3 days later a young man openly proud of the spiritual heritage he's been grafted into. Isn't that the prayer of every mother's heart?


(Andrew and Josh at the Holy Door outside the Basilica of St. Mary Major)

We were able to visit all four of the basilicas in Rome and celebrated Mass in St. Mary Major. Josh and Michael were alter servers, while I served as a Lector. I love reading God's Word and I love the Mass, so the two together are a great combination for me! My favorite way to serve, though, is an a Eucharistic Minister. Nothing compares with literally sharing our risen Lord with others. Often, when I'm waiting beside the altar to begin distributing, the reality of Christ's presence is so strong I physically struggle to remain upright. I've never experienced anything like it and the first time I served it left me feeling both shell-shocked and elated. Without exception, when I stand near the altar during the Consecration my body seems to have a mind of its own and I feel an almost overwhelming urge to prostrate myself. A conscious choice to maintain social decorum is the only thing that keeps me upright; although I do admit to daydreaming about being in a setting in which I'm free to worship with complete abandon.

While we were at St. Mary Major we went upstairs to visit Cardinal Law, who lives in an apartment in the basilica. The Pope had called all the local Cardinals into a silent Lenten retreat, so he wasn't able to meet with us, but he left instructions for his adorable little Mexican housekeeping nun to invite us in and serve us coffee. Fr. Mitch was flabbergasted, since he's been friends with Cardinal Law for years and has never been invited into the Cardinal's home before. We were served coffee and snacks and had fun checking out his library and music collection. Out of respect for his privacy I won't post any pictures from his home, but it was very nice. I was so inspired by the little nun. She must have only been in her late twenties or early thirties, but I've never seen such love shine from anyone's eyes like it did from hers. She exuded a joy that absolutely filled up the room. She served each one of us like it was her greatest pleasure to meet our needs and make us comfortable. I was so convicted of my own selfishness. Do I ever make anyone feel as genuinely loved as she did us?

(Papal portraits in the Basilica of St. Paul Outside the Wall)

We were able to make confessions at St. Paul Outside the Wall. (So named because it was built just outside the original city walls.) The multi-lingual priests that were hearing confessions were wonderful! Everyone left with a lighter spring in their step. This basilica is lined with portraits of each on of the Popes since St. Peter, which I found fascinating. The portrait of Pope Benedict XVI has a spotlight on it, which saved us hours of hunting for him. It really is astounding to stand in the middle of this huge basilica and see face after face of the men who have been charged with leading Christ's flock for the last 2000+ years. Of course, the earliest portraits are merely artists renderings, since actual likenesses weren't made until much later; that didn't diminish the power of personally seeing the line of succession from St. Peter to the present. Having read about the bad Popes and the anti-Popes and seeing some of their faces up there, really brought home for me the reality of Christ's promise to protect His Church against the gates of Hell. God has so faithfully guarded the integrity of the dogmas of the Church despite the best efforts of some wicked men sitting in Peter's chair over the years. No religion would stand a chance of surviving the attacks, both from within and without, that the Roman Church has if Jesus Christ himself wasn't its ultimate Head. How humbling to be called to be a part of this!

(The Holy Steps)
Across the street from the Basilica of St. Peter in Chains are the Holy Steps. Tradition holds that St. Helena, the mother of Constantine, went on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land and brought back, among other things, the steps that Jesus is believed to have climbed on his way to and from both meetings with Pilot before his crucifixion. Since being set up in Rome, pilgrims have been climbing the set of 28 stairs on their knees while praying a specific prayer on each step. It's a painful and humbling thing to do. The steps are so deep that they require you to literally crawl on your hands and knees up to the next step. The prayers consist of asking Jesus to help us better understand how much he suffered for us. The greater our understanding of His suffering, the deeper our love for him will grow, which, in turn, leads to a greater desire to pursue personal holiness and eschew sin. The prayers are prayed silently, and just watching others work their way up the stairs can be very moving.

(Pope Benedict - giving the Sunday Papal blessing)
Never in a million years did I imagine I would one day stand in St. Peter's Square and receive a Papal blessing from the Pope. Never in a million years would I have imagined I would have wanted to! But God's plans for us are so much bigger and better than any we have for ourselves. I have come to the conclusion that this amazing man has one of the greatest theological minds ever. His deep understanding of scripture and theology is on par with that of Saints Jerome and Thomas Aquinas. It was an exciting thing to be standing beneath his apartment window and see his smiling face appear. The Vicar of Christ personally acknowledged those of us on pilgrimage from our specific military base! And He prayed for God's blessings to be on us as we continue in our faith journey. After greeting different groups in 5 different languages he prayed for and blessed all of us, then those that could prayed together in Latin to conclude our time with him. Walking across the square, I was struck by the universality of Christ's Church. Knowing there are fellow believers all over the world and actually standing shoulder to shoulder with them are two different things. Seeing so many nations represented and hearing everyone's voices raised together in prayer was awe inspiring. And fun! As we left the square for lunch we walked past a group of people playing guitars and tambourines and singing and swaying as they praised God and I wanted to run over and join them! Such a feeling of unity and singleness of purpose permeated the air, and I know God was smiling. So were we.

Rome Pilgrimage, Part 1

This is several weeks overdue. I've had a hard time finding a block of time in which to process my thoughts and experiences and turn them into something someone else might be able to make sense of. I finally decided it really doesn't matter whether or not anyone else 'gets it'. It was deeply person and very real, and I just need to get it written down.


We arrived in Rome early Friday morning, so we were able to spend most of the day exploring Vatican City. Our hotel was only a 20 minute walk from St. Peter's Basilica, which was very convenient since we spent most of our time in Vatican City. One of the first things the girls noticed about Rome was the nuns. Old nuns, young nuns, walking down the blocks. Short nuns, tall nuns, even nuns with chicken pox eat hot dogs...Armor hot dogs... 8-) We made a game out of looking for the different habit colors. Nuns aren't relegated to just black and white anymore, that's for sure! We learned there's a lot more variety in Priest's and Monk's robes than we'd thought, too.

We toured the Vatican Museum, which I could have spent an entire day meandering through. So much history of Christianity from all cultures in one building! It was amazing. The Sistine Chapel was breathtaking! It boggles the mind to stand before (or beneath) Michelangelo's masterpieces and realize how unbelievably talented he was. The scope of his gifts is hard to comprehend. I can't draw a straight line to save my life and this man turned flat surfaces and huge pieces of rock into beauty that sings praises to our Creator. The Pieta moved me deeply. The look of heartbroken tenderness on Mary's face as she lovingly held the broken body of her son brought stillness into my soul. I don't know how else to describe it. A piece of rock made me cry.

St. Peter's Basilica is huge. The first day we were there we were able to walk through the tombs in the basement. We walked past one after the other, some very plain, others a little more ornate. Several people were kneeling and quietly praying at the tomb of Pope John Paul II.

The thing that really got the kids' attention, though, were the incorruptibles in the Basilica; especially Pope John XXIII. What an amazing phenomenon, and one only found in the Church.

(Outside St. Peter's Basilica on our way to early morning Mass)

We woke early Saturday morning, ate, and hurried to St. Peter's where we'd reserved a small chapel near St. Peter's tomb in which to celebrate Mass. We hurried through the nearly deserted square and into the Basilica. The kids and I were excited about getting to celebrate Mass where St. Peter was martyred and buried, and the sleepy hush over the square was perfectly fitting.

As we walked through the Basilica I noticed several priests in their Lenten vestments on their knees before the various altars. What a beautiful thing to see all these men of God humbly seeking His face in preparation for celebrating His Holy Mass. Because our priest is well-known in Vatican City, the rules were bent for us and we were allowed to go into the Sacristy where the priests are assisted in vesting for Mass. After Father Mitch was ready, he led the way to a gate leading into the catacombs beneath the Basilica. As we walked down the ancient stone stairs the sounds of prayers and singing in different languages softly floated up to us, and for a moment I thought of how beautiful it must be to the Lord to hear his children praising him in every language on earth. Sigh.

(Fr. Mitch celebrating Mass in St. Peter's)

I was asked to assist with Mass by distributing the Blood of Christ, and words can't adequately express the feelings of humility and gratitude that coursed through me at the thought of this holy sacrifice being celebrated at such a holy site.








(St. Peter's Tomb)

After Mass we walked a few feet down the corridor and passed St. Peter's Tomb. Such a tiny place for such a great man. (Being the rebel I am, I hurried back around the circular corridor to sneak a picture. Most people never get to see it, and I didn't want to forget. A very small family was just beginning to celebrate Mass right there in the tomb, and they had no idea I was lurking. 8-) )




(Which one is the cherub?)
Fortunately we had lots of light, silly moments to balance out the intense spirituality of Vatican City. And Katie's always willing to be a ham.











(Andrew walking outside the walls of Vatican City)

We walked along these walls so many times I think I could do it blindfolded! The wall just seems to go on and on and on and on and on....... Needless to say we all crashed at the end of each day!

No offense intended

Apparently I have unintentionally offended my dear Father-in-law. He's a wonderful man and I love him deeply. I would never set out to hurt or embarrass him, but it seems that I have. Matt's parents accessed our blog for the first time yesterday and Dad told Matt that I'm now on his "list" because I identified myself as "a Roman Catholic Army wife". He doesn't understand why I didn't just call myself a Christian and leave it at that; and he felt that I put that description on there to "rub it in his face". "It", of course, being our recent conversion to the authentic, historic Christianity preserved in the Catholic church. I was more than a little surprised that those two words were the sole source of his displeasure with me, given that I've tried to so hard to be sensitive to our mostly Protestant blog readers, ergo this separate blog.

On Christmas Dad called and told us he'd "come to terms" with our being Catholic. His Baptist theology gives him the assurance that Matt and I and our older kids who've previously made a Profession of Faith (read: been "born again") are safe because nothing we can do could ever cause us to lose our salvation. We've never fully bought into the once-saved-always-saved theology of our Baptist family members, but I'm thankful that it's provided a demilitarized zone for us. I'm guessing that Dad was hoping if he didn't argue with us over this and instead offered to "let it go" that our Catholicism might someday, quietly go away. My public declaration of our alignment with Rome must have shot that hope out of the water, so he's unhappy with me.

I don't enjoy conflict and usually avoid it like the plague. Honestly, if conflict is "here" I'm running full speed ahead to get as close to "there" as possible before it hits. One of the big things I struggled with in our conversion was the potential for mass relational casualties due to ugly religious conflicts. But something fundamentally shifted in me when I received my First Communion. I'm no longer afraid of people. I'm no longer concerned about who will or won't understand or who will choose to remain our friends. To Catholics this kind of division over religion doesn't make a lot of sense and often sounds ridiculous, but in the Protestant camp it's very, very real. When the Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity of our Lord Jesus entered my body He healed me of the fear that had guided most of my adult life. The fear of people not liking me. The fear of people I love thinking I've lost my mind. (How pathetically self-focused!) The first time I heard the prayer "Lord, I am not worthy to receive You, but only say the word and I SHALL be healed." I knew in my heart that Jesus would completely set me free. But I anticipated a slow, gradual freedom, not this surprising about-face that has completely unshackled me! Pleasing my Lord is the only thing that truly matters to me anymore. That single goal is what drives me to be the best wife and mother I can be. To love and encourage and support my husband with everything that I am. To love and nurture and form each one of our children and prepare them to live lives in obedience to His will. To love those He places in my path, encouraging the tired and overwhelmed, blessing those in need, exhorting as His Spirit leads. When Christ physically entered me my eyes suddenly turned outward. I'd had no idea how inward I was focused until then.

So if others are offended or embarrassed by my proud declaration that I'm a Roman Catholic, I make no apologies. I can not and will not deny my Lord and what He's done for me! I have already come to know Him more intimately and tangibly in His Church than I ever imagined was possible this side of Heaven.

"Whoever confesses me before others I will confess before my Father in Heaven. But whoever denies me before others, I will deny before my heavenly Father." Mt. 10:32-33