The battle for my eternity

July is relatively comfortable in the Chicago area. Temperatures rarely get above ninety degrees, and though most facilities around the city have air-conditioning to keep things at an optimal comfort level, the Church of St. Stanislaus Kostka on Noble Street, just off the Kennedy Expressway, does not. It's a large Church and very old, dating back to the 19th century. It stays a little cold in the winter and becomes relatively hot inside during the summer, even with Chicago's moderate summer climate.

But is it ever a beautiful Church.

If they had not built the Kennedy with a slight swerve, the main artery through Chicago would have severed the Church in half. You can't miss St. Stanislaus as you traverse the city since you have to curve around the Church in order to avoid it. That's not even counting the huge banner of Jesus standing in the parking lot facing the expressway. It says "Jesus I trust in you," and literally thousands see it everyday; though, I often wonder how many think much about it.

St. Stanislaus is the epicenter in the battle for my eternity.

This is the sacred sanctuary I visited just a few months prior after being laid off from my job as the President of a small manufacturing company in St. Louis. For years we lived north of Chicago and were prepared to move to St. Louis for this job opportunity, but that move, like the opportunity, never came to fruition. Fortunately the house never sold, and my wife, ten-year-old son, and I moved back to the same place we left the previous year.

I was familiar with St. Stanislaus. The late Cardinal George designated it as the Archdiocesan Sanctuary of the Divine Mercy, which explains why there is a large banner of Jesus in the parking lot inscribed with "Jesus, I trust in you." That phrase is the core message Our Lord gave to St. Faustina Kowalska, the early twentieth century Polish nun through whose diary we know the Lord's instructions for the Divine Mercy devotion. Only another year prior, we visited the Church with a friend, specifically because it was the Sanctuary for the Divine Mercy.

After my layoff in April, I drove from St. Louis back to our home north of Chicago but stopped first at St. Stanislaus in the city. A week or so later, I stopped in again before visiting a trade show at the McCormick Place convention center in search of new employment. Something very special happened during both visits. The Church was imbued with the spiritual presence of the Blessed Virgin Mary. Her statue sat next to the Eucharist during hours of adoration, and I was completely taken by her presence. Shortly thereafter, the archdiocese announced that in May Cardinal George was going to bless a new nine-foot-tall Icon of Our Lady, a holy monstrance holding our Lord in His Real Presence, called the Iconic Monstrance of Our Lady of the Sign - Ark of Mercy. We attended the Mass. The icon irrevocably branded Our Lady's presence even more deeply throughout the Sanctuary of the Divine Mercy. My earlier visits simply were foretastes of how Mary's spirit would call us to prayer in perpetual adoration of her Son in this Church.

I walked into St. Stanislaus on a warm evening in July around ten o'clock wearing blue jeans and a short sleeved black collared shirt. It was actually quite warm. The Church was huge and empty all at the same time except for maybe the security guard at the back section of the sanctuary. The lights were soft and the sanctuary peaceful in the semi-darkness. The Icon holding Our Lord in the Eucharist by the altar was brightly lit. I walked all the way to the front pew so as to be as close as possible to Our Lord in His Eucharist and resting in the beautiful icon of Our Lady. I had my rosary, a prayer book, and a pair of reading glasses which I sat next to me in the pew.

One second later, the battle for my eternity began.

(this is a developing series - to be continued)