Tag: God

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Sermon: Proper 23 RCL B – “Thanks be to God”

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Once, there was an elder in the lower parts of Egypt, and he was a very famous hermit who lived alone in a desert.  Two young men knew of the old hermit’s pious life, and they often scoffed and ridiculed him. Knowing this, Satan brought it about that a woman of easy virtue came to the two young men and said, “What will you give me if I can cause the hermit to stumble and sin?” The young men loved the idea, so they agreed on a certain sum of money they would give her. Going out the following evening, the woman came to the hermit’s cell, pretending to have lost her way. She knocked at his door, and he came out. Seeing her, he was disturbed and said. “How did you get out here?” She pretended to weep and said, “I have lost my way.” So, being moved to pity, he let her into the front room of his cell, and for his part, he went on to the inner room and locked the door. But the unfortunate woman cried out, “Father, the wild animals will eat me out here.” Once again, the hermit was disturbed, thought of the Judgment of God, and said, “How did this dreadful thing ever happen to me?” But opening his door, he let her in. It was then that the devil began to shoot flaming arrows of lust into his heart. But he said within his soul, “The ways of the enemy are darkness, and the Son of God is light.” So he lit a lantern, but the temptation continued, and he said, “Well, let’s see if you will be able to bear the flames of hell if you stumble and fall into sin by this temptation.” So he put a finger into the lantern’s flame, but though the flame burned him, he did not feel it because the fire of lust burned so brightly in him.” It went on like this all night until morning. He had burned all his fingers. The unfortunate woman, watching what he was doing, was so struck with terror that she almost turned into stone. In the morning, the two young men came to the hermit and said, “Did a woman come here last night?” “Yes,” said the hermit. “She is over there asleep.” Seeing her, they said, “Father, she is dead!” Then the hermit, throwing back the cloak he was wearing, showed them his hands and said, “Look what she did to me, that child of Satan! She has cost me all my fingers.” (Naturally, it was the woman’s fault that the hermit lusted after her.) However, having told them all that had taken place, he said, “It is written, ‘Thou shalt not render evil for evil.’” So he said a prayer and the young woman was revived, converted, and lived chastely for the rest of her life.

The hermit had done all he knew to do to live an ascetic life—a life free of outside influence and stimulus—so that he might dedicate himself to a life of solitude and prayer. This might seem odd to us today, but it is, in fact, a very noble and holy calling. He believed he was doing everything necessary to please God, but then the woman appeared. For him, she was a temptation, a stumbling block in his walk with God. He overcame the temptation, but the price of his obedience was his fingers—a very high price, indeed.

In our gospel reading, we are told that a young man came to Jesus and asked, “Good Teacher, what must I do to receive eternal life?” Jesus answered, “You know the commandments: ‘You shall not murder; You shall not commit adultery; You shall not steal; You shall not bear false witness; You shall not defraud; Honor your father and mother.’” Excitedly, the young man replies, “I’ve done all this since I was a child.” In love, Jesus responds, “You lack one thing; go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.”

Like the hermit, the young man believed he was doing everything right. He was following the Law to the letter and walking the path of righteousness, but it wasn’t enough for his salvation. Jesus knew that this young man was wealthy and had many possessions, so Jesus said, “Give it all away and follow me.” The young man went away sad. For him, the price of his obedience might as well have been all his fingers. But even then, it would not have been enough for his salvation.

Jesus is asking the young man, “Do you want to try and save yourself through your actions, your abilities, and possessions, or are you willing to set all that aside and walk by faith?”

In this incident, the young man represents the people of Israel. All their lives, they have believed they could bring about their salvation by adhering to the Law of Moses. That is, by their works (the idea that doing good deeds or following the Law allows you to earn your salvation), but now, Jesus says it is not enough. They must have faith, follow him, and accept God’s grace that is being offered. 

In his letter to the Romans, St. Paul provides a fascinating discussion on salvation by works, which he compares to salvation by faith. Paul writes, the “Gentiles who did not pursue righteousness have attained it, that is, a righteousness that is by faith; but that Israel who pursued a law that would lead to righteousness did not succeed in reaching that law. Why? Because they did not pursue it by faith, but as if it were based on works. They have stumbled over the stumbling stone, as it is written, ‘Behold, I am laying in Zion a stone of stumbling, and a rock of offense; and whoever believes in him will not be put to shame.’” (Romans 9:30-33)

The people said to themselves, “If we burn all our fingers, we will be saved. If we follow the Law of Moses, we will be saved. If we do this, that, or the other, we will be saved. Through our works—the things we do—we can earn our salvation.” This belief was their stumbling block. And they so stubbornly believed in their ability to save themselves that they did not recognize the salvation Jesus was offering—a salvation that was far more costly than anything they could earn through their works.

In a day and age when we are so concerned with the stock market, inflation, wars, monkeypox, or whatever, I don’t know that the issue of our salvation and eternal life ever enters our minds, except, perhaps, when we gather here. However, when we do gather, we are the hermit in his cell, and we are the rich young man kneeling before Jesus, and like them, we ask, “What must I do to receive eternal life?” Like with the young man, Jesus may answer our question with a question. “What are you doing to receive eternal life?” We respond, “Well, I go to church, I say my prayers, I give to the poor, I read my Bible, I confess my sins, I receive communion, and more.” Jesus looks at us lovingly and responds, “You lack one thing. You must die to yourself. You must give me your life, then come, follow me.”

Jesus has just laid a large stumbling block in our path. The price is too high. It is too much.

I always get a little tickled when I think of the second part of our Gospel reading. I get this cartoon image of a camel, and he has this big ol’ bug eyes as he stares through the eye of a needle, trying to figure out how he will get through it. A thought balloon pops up over his head. “Nope,” he thinks. “Not a snowball’s chance in the Sahara!” That is us. The price is too high. We simply cannot do it. The stumbling block placed before us plants us face down in the dirt, with no chance of recovering. 

The disciples thought the same thing and asked, “Then who can be saved?” Can you see Jesus smiling when He answers? “For mortals, it is impossible, but not for God; for God, all things are possible.” Once, the apostle Paul was ranting against himself because of the stumbling block in his life, so he said in his despair, “Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death?” In the confession of his failing, he discovered the answer. “Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!” (Romans 7:24-25a)

With all my talking about sin these last several weeks, you may have thought it was the Season of Lent. We talked about confessing our sins, walking in the Light of Jesus, drawing near to God, and being true friends by holding each other accountable. However, even with our very best efforts, we are the camel staring through the eye of the needle, and we respond in despair, “Nope. Not going to happen.” Not because we don’t want to but because we don’t have it within us. 

We are to make our very best efforts to follow the commandments of God, but in the end, for our salvation and eternal life, it is too expensive for us; therefore, we need another way. We need God to forgive us our sins. We need mercy. We need grace.

“I lift up my eyes to the hills.
    From where does my help come?

My help comes from the Lord,
    who made heaven and earth.”

(Psalm 121:1-2)

“Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!” Thanks be to God, for through Jesus, the camel can pass through the eye of the needle.

Let us pray:
Father of Mercy,
forgive our failings,
keep us in Your Grace,
and lead us in the way of salvation.
Give us strength in serving You
as followers of Christ.
May the Eucharist bring us Your Forgiveness
and give us freedom to serve You all our lives.
May it help us to remain faithful
and give us the grace we need in Your service.
May it teach us the way to eternal life.
Amen.

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Sermon: Thérèse of Lisieux

I have some excellent yard maintenance skills. Except for a few shrubs, if it is green and grows in my yard… hit it with Roundup. It’s not that I don’t enjoy having flowers; I do, but I don’t want to waste money on plants that are going to die because I know that I’m not going to take care of them. I just really don’t enjoy working in the yard. However, back when the cousin lived in Enid, the yard had all kinds of flowers, and if I planted something, she would take care of it.

Of the few flowers I planted, the one I cherished the most was my John Paul II memorial rose. It was a glorious luminescent white when it bloomed. When that happened, a hundred different types of flowers could be blooming all around it, but that rose would be the only one I noticed.  

Have you heard of the Saint we celebrate today, Thérèse of Lisieux, also known as the Little Flower of Jesus? Most say yes. She is often considered one of the greatest modern Saints, having died on October 1, 1897. We read her autobiography, Story of a Soul, for one of our Saints Book Club selections. She is a very “popular” saint. Do you know anything about Verissimus, Maxima, and Julia, or have you even heard of them? No? They are also Saints who share the same feast day as Thérèse—October 1st. All three were martyred in Lisbon, Portugal, under Emperor Diocletian’s persecution in 305 A.D. 

When we consider them all together, Thérèse of Lisieux is the St. John Paul II memorial rose, while Verissimus, Maxima, and Julia are seen as little Lantanas or Impatiens. 

Thérèse looked at things differently. She writes, “Jesus set before me the book of nature. I understand how all the flowers God has created are beautiful, how the splendor of the rose and the whiteness of the lily do not take away the perfume of the violet or the delightful simplicity of the daisy. I understand that if all flowers wanted to be roses, nature would lose her springtime beauty, and the fields would no longer be decked out with little wildflowers. So it is in the world of souls, Jesus’ garden. He has created smaller ones, and those must be content to be daisies or violets destined to give joy to God’s glances when He looks down at His feet. Perfection consists in doing His will, in being what He wills us to be.”

There are “big” Saints, and there are “little” Saints, but in the eyes of God, they are all Saints. All—whether we recognize their names or not—have submitted to the will of God and fulfilled His purposes; therefore, they reveal His glory in the world. So, if those are the Saints living their eternal lives in Jesus’ garden, where are we? Are we getting hit with the Roundup, or are we also in that garden? Are we those whom God looks lovingly upon as He passes by? You may not always believe it, but you are in that garden. You are one in whom Christ delights.

In our reading from Colossians, Paul said to us, “Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth, for you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ who is your life is revealed, then you also will be revealed with him in glory.” (Colossians 3:4)

We may not always believe that we are worthy of being placed in Jesus’ garden with the likes of Thérèse, Verissimus, Maxima, and Julia, and, in our own right, we are not. However, by setting our hearts and minds on Jesus, as all the Saint have done, it is Jesus and His glory that will be revealed in us—that will bloom in us and make us worthy “to share in the inheritance of the saints in light.” (Colossians 1:12) 

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Sermon: Proper 21 RCL B – “No Lifeguard on Duty”

Little Johnny had gone to the beach with his family. After a short time, Johnny asked his mom if he could go swimming in the ocean. His mother said, “Certainly not. The sea’s too rough, there’s a terrible rip tide and a dangerous offshore current, this coast is infested with jellyfish and sharks, and there’s no lifeguard on duty.” Johnny said, “But Daddy’s gone swimming!” His mother, looking out over the water, replied nonchalantly, “I know, but he has excellent life insurance.”

Last week, as we discussed the Epistle of James, we concluded that we can work at avoiding the sting of sin by drawing near to God and walking in the light. St. James, in his Epistle, said to us, “Submit yourselves therefore to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. Draw near to God, and he will draw near to you.” (James 4:7-8)

From this, a good question would be: How do I draw near to God? How do I walk in the light? We know that through prayer and study, we can accomplish this to some extent. However, the devil is crafty. Even in the beginning in the Garden of Eden, we are told, “Now the serpent—the devil—was more crafty than any other beast of the field that the Lord God had made.” (Genesis 3:1) So, even though we may watch and pray and study, the devil is still looking for ways to deceive us. One of the more successful tactics the serpent may take is not by deceiving us directly but by convincing us to deceive ourselves. This goes back to how we, at times, will dabble in our sins or negotiate with them. As we learned last week, you can’t sin just a little. You are either sinning or not. We deceive ourselves when we think otherwise. Unfortunately, we do this, and even though we may be praying and studying, we can become increasingly mired and stuck in the sin that is killing us. 

This is akin to the general confession we make almost every time we gather. On a Sunday, the general confession is the one that we make together following the Creed. It is beneficial, but there needs to be real accountability. Sure, I during the General Confession,I can confess to stealing, but no one is holding me accountable for that sin. No one is asking me to make restitution. No one is around to help me overcome the sin. I confessed the sin of stealing, but I’ve got no skin in the game. So, I am more likely to continue in that sin because I haven’t been “called out” on it and have likely deceived myself and justified my actions. What I really need is for someone to come along and say, “You need to stop stealing, and I’m going to….” Not be your taskmaster, not ride you day in and day out, not condemn you, bash you about the head and neck, none of that. No. What I need is someone to come alongside me and say, “You need to stop stealing, and I’m going to help you to stop deceiving yourself. I’m going to hold you accountable. I’m going to come alongside you and love you.”

This morning, we read the last two verses of the Epistle of St. James. “My brothers and sisters, if anyone among you wanders from the truth—falls into sin—and is brought back by another, you should know that whoever brings back a sinner from wandering will save the sinner’s soul from death and will cover a multitude of sins.” (James 5:19-20) 

We come alongside each other and help one another because to save our souls, we need one another. Jesus never sent the disciples out alone, always two-by-two, so he certainly doesn’t want us to go it alone, either. Why? The world we live in can be like rough seas; there can be terrible rip tides and dangerous offshore currents, jellyfish and sharks that can harm us, and there is no lifeguard on duty.” If we go out alone, any number of things can befall us, but if we have someone with us, the chances for our safety are much greater. 

As I’ve told you several times before, Christianity does not exist in an individual. Christianity exists in a community. A community of believers that support and care for one another. A community of believers who are, despite all their differences, friends. 

If you want warm and sappy, you can always look up quotes about friendship; those quotes often speak about chance encounters. “Friendship is the beautiful chance encounter that enriches our lives.” “In the randomness of life, meeting a friend is a chance worth cherishing.” “A true friend is a rare gem discovered by chance in the vast sea of humanity.” But what if the community we build here and the friends we make are not random chance? 

In The Four Loves, C.S. Lewis discusses this. “In friendship,” he writes, “We think we have chosen our peers. In reality, a few years’ difference in the dates of our births, a few more miles between certain houses, the choice of one university instead of another…the accident of a topic being raised or not raised at a first meeting—any of these chances might have kept us apart. But, for a Christian, there are, strictly speaking, no chances. A secret master of ceremonies has been at work. Christ, who said to the disciples, ‘Ye have not chosen me, but I have chosen you,’ can truly say to every group of Christian friends, ‘Ye have not chosen one another but I have chosen you for one another.’ The friendship is not a reward for our discriminating and good taste in finding one another out. It is the instrument by which God reveals to each of us the beauties of others.” (The Four Loves, p.89)

The author of Ecclesiastes confirms the need for these friendships. “Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their toil. For if they fall, one will lift up his fellow. But woe to him who is alone when he falls and has not another to lift him up!” (Ecclesiastes 4:9-10)

There is no lifeguard on duty, so, for many reasons, we need one another, one of which is to hold one another accountable. 

Thomas à Kempis tells us, “God has so ordained, that we may learn to bear with one another’s burdens, for there is no person without fault, no person without burden, no person sufficient to themself nor wise enough. Hence, we must support one another, console one another, mutually help, counsel, and advise, for the measure of every person’s virtue is best revealed in time of adversity—adversity that does not weaken a person but rather shows what they are.” (Imitation of Christ 1.16)

How do we do this? Numerous times, the Bible provides us with instruction, and they all speak of gentleness, love, and humility. However, before you set out on such a task, I suggest you check yourself because, so often, when we seek to correct another person, our actions have little or nothing to do with these traits. Remember the cartoon that made the social media rounds? “You were a believer, yes. But you skipped the

not-being-a-jerk-about-it part.” So often, those things we want to correct in another person have absolutely nothing to do with them and everything to do with us. If you want to hold someone accountable, ensure your heart is in the right place. If you feel that it is, then don’t be a jerk. Go to that person and, with kind and gentle words, speak to them. And don’t do it from a place of superiority or even as a parent would talk to a child. Instead, speak to them as an equal, recognizing that you, too, are a sinner in need of a loving God and also recognizing that tomorrow, it will likely be you who is being spoken to for your sins.

If your heart is in the right place and you truly believe a person needs to be held accountable, correct them. Their very soul may depend on your words. But do so with genuine humility and love. 

Jesus said to His disciples, “I no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his master’s business. Instead, I have called you friends, for everything that I learned from my Father I have made known to you.” (John 15:15)

Jesus calls us friends, so we must be true friends with one another, and the strength of a true friendship can withstand loving one another in such a way that we can hold each other accountable. 

In the novel It, my friend Stephen King wrote, “Maybe there aren’t any such things as good friends or bad friends – maybe there are just friends, people who stand by you when you’re hurt and who help you feel not so lonely. Maybe they’re always worth being scared for, and hoping for, and living for. Maybe worth dying for too, if that’s what has to be. No good friends. No bad friends. Only people you want, need to be with; people who build their houses in your heart.” (p.1,043)

I believe this is the kind of friendship that Jesus desires for us. Be that friend to one another. 

Let us pray:
Guardian Angel,
watch over those who have built houses in my heart.
Guard over them with every care
and make their way easy and their labors fruitful.
Dry their tears if they weep;
sanctify their joys;
raise their courage if they weaken;
restore their hope if they lose heart,
their health if they be ill,
truth if they err,
repentance if they fail.
Amen.

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Sermon: Proper 20 RCL B – “Corruption”

Part of the time I was in college, I worked at a kennel. During the week, we would be about half full, but on the weekend, the place was usually booked up—200+ dogs, 20 cats, and the occasional bird, snake, lizard, or other family pet. It could be interesting and loud (part of the reason I say, “Huh,” so much.) 

There’s quite a bit to do when caring for so many animals, but there are also times when not much happening—even the dogs like an afternoon nap. However, the owner of the place was not big on employees just sitting about, so he was always good at finding something for us to do. On one occasion, he decided that a two-story house on the property needed to be painted, and the job fell on me. I can paint, so no problem, but before I could get at it, I had to remove the thick vines that had grown and covered one entire side of the house. 

I worked the lower levels with no problem, then hauled out the ladder and started on the upper level. It was in the middle of summer in Texas, and it was hot, dirty work, so I had peeled off my shirt, so I’m about fifteen feet up, wearing a pair of shorts and sneakers. This is when I yank on one particular vine, which erupts in a horde of yellow jackets. In my humble opinion, the yellow jacket is not one of God’s creations. It is of the devil, for sure. 

I make it about three feet down the ladder before I get stung.

That little yellow cuss got me on top of the head, so I reached up to swat it—and this is where the real satanic powers of the yellow jacket kick in; unlike a honey bee, a yellow jacket can sting you as many times as it likes. So, when I swat it off my head, it stings me on the hand. When it stings me on the hand, I slap it to my chest, hoping to be rid of it, and, yes, it stung me on the chest. I’ve no idea how I managed not to fall the remaining twelve feet off the ladder. 

I’ve had kidney stones, but I’m pretty sure those three stings were more painful. The pain is absolutely excruciating and all-encompassing. As many of you know, when a yellow jacket stings, you don’t just feel it at the site of the sting; your entire body is jolted, as with an intense electrical shock that courses all the way through. 

St. Augustine (he died in the year 430) had a young friend and student, Alypius. Alypius had gone to Rome to study and attempted to keep himself from falling into traps on the seedier side of the great city, so he stayed away from many of the events, including the battles of the gladiators in the Colosseum. However, one day, his friends dragged him there. Alypius said to them, “You may drag me there bodily, but do you imagine that you can make me watch the show and give my mind to it?”

As if to prove they could, they hauled him in. The entire time, Alypius kept his eyes tightly closed, never peaking. However, a battle took place, and at one point, a great cry arose from the onlookers. It was too much. Augustine reports, “So Alypius opened his eyes, and his soul was stabbed with a wound more deadly than any which the gladiator, whom he was so anxious to see, had received in his body. He fell, and fell more pitifully than the man whose fall had drawn that roar of excitement from the crowd. The din had pierced his ears and forced him to open his eyes, laying his soul open to receive the wound which struck it down.

“When he saw the blood, it was as though he had drunk a deep draught of savage passion. Instead of turning away, he fixed his eyes upon the scene and drank in all its frenzy, unaware of what he was doing. He reveled in the wickedness of the fighting and was drunk with the fascination of bloodshed. He was no longer the man who had come to the arena, but simply one of the crowd which he had joined, a fit companion for the friends who had brought him.” (Confessions, VI.8)

The yellow jacket sting is all-encompassing, but after a short time, the pain subsides. When, like Alypius, we open ourselves, our eyes, and our bodies to sin, that “sting” is also all-encompassing, but the effects do not subside. Not only that, but the “sting” of sin infects and corrupts the body and the soul. Like Alypius, once infected, we want more. We get caught up in the madness that is so satisfying for a moment but will eventually kill us if we do not repent.

Matthew, Chapter Five is the beginning of the Sermon on the Mount. It starts with the Beatitudes—blessed are the meek, blessed are the merciful, blessed are the peacemakers—and then continues with a litany of teachings on anger, lust, retaliation, and enemies. While speaking on lust, Jesus says something quite startling, “If your right eye causes you to sin, tear it out and throw it away. For it is better that you lose one of your members than that your whole body be thrown into hell. And if your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away. For it is better that you lose one of your members than that your whole body go into hell.” (Matthew 5:29-30)

Now, we know that Jesus does not intend for us to pluck out an eye or cut off our hands. These are deliberate exaggerations, but they are exaggerations that describe how ruthlessly we are to deal with our sins. No dabbling. Sinning a little bit is like being a little bit pregnant. No negotiations. I’ve shared it with you before: if you dance with the devil, the devil doesn’t change. The devil changes you. Be rid of it. Why? Because once you open your eyes to evil, once you touch that which should not be touched, once you begin to sin, it is all-encompassing.

You may have noticed that all this month, our New Testament lesson has been from the Epistle of James. He frequently speaks of this idea of the beginning of sin leading to all-encompassing sin.

In chapter two, James, speaking of the Mosaic Law, says, “You do well if you really fulfill the royal law according to the scripture, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself. But if you show partiality, you commit sin and are convicted by the law as transgressors. For whoever keeps the whole law but fails in one point has become accountable for all of it.” (James 2:8-10) It starts small, showing partiality, but it leads to a complete abandonment of all the Law.

Further on, he writes, “How great a forest is set ablaze by a small fire! And the tongue is a fire. The tongue is placed among our members as a world of iniquity; it stains the whole body, sets on fire the cycle of nature, and is itself set on fire by hell.” (James 3:5b-6) How many relationships, be they between individuals, families, friends, and even nations, have been utterly ruined by the tongue? By hurtful words? James is saying, don’t let it start. Don’t give that sin a single spark; it may bring everything down.

We heard today, “Those conflicts and disputes among you, where do they come from? Do they not come from your cravings that are at war within you? You want something and do not have it; so you commit murder. And you covet something and cannot obtain it; so you engage in disputes and conflicts.” (James 4)1-2a) Look at the wars in the world. What brings them on? Peoples or governments wanting what belongs to another. Whether it be land or oil or bragging rights. The same can happen to us if we seek to take what others have.

What is the solution? How can we work to avoid the “sting” of sin and the all-encompassing pain that begins with a single stick but consumes body and soul? Jesus’ exaggeration of plucking out an eye or cutting off a hand is defined for us in the words we heard from James this morning: “Submit yourselves therefore to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. Draw near to God, and he will draw near to you.” (James 4:7-8)

Jesus said, “The light has come into the world, and people loved the darkness rather than the light because their works were evil. For everyone who does wicked things hates the light and does not come to the light, lest his works should be exposed. But whoever does what is true comes to the light, so that it may be clearly seen that his works have been carried out in God.” (John 3:19-21)

We work at overcoming sin by resisting the works of darkness and the devil. Therefore, come into the Light and draw near to God, and the Light of God will draw near to you and embrace you. 

“‘O death, where is your victory?
    O death, where is your sting?’

The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.” (1 Corinthians 15:55-57) Amen.

Let us pray: Holy Michael, the Archangel, defend us in battle. Be our safeguard against the wickedness and snares of the devil. May God rebuke him, we humbly pray; and do you, O Prince of the heavenly host, by the power of God, cast into hell Satan and all the evil spirits who wander through the world seeking the ruin of souls. Amen.

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Sermon: Heritage Sunday / Feast of St. Matthew

“The most terrifying words in the English language are: I’m from the government, and I’m here to help.” Ronald Reagan

For those of you who are married, I warn you up front not to laugh at this one. “‘I am’ is reportedly the shortest sentence in the English language. Could it be that ‘I do’ is the longest sentence?” George Carlin

The English language—words and grammar. One misspelled word, and you’ll either end up being holy, someone approaching sainthood (such as myself), or being wholly, someone who’s been shot up the OK Coral. One forgotten comma can turn “Let’s eat, gramma,” a call to supper, into “Let’s eat gramma,” an unfortunate act of cannibalism.

After the basics, you get into nouns and verbs, pronouns and adverbs, which brings me to Little Johnny. Johnny was sitting in English class and not paying attention. The teacher, looking to bring him back from wherever his mind was, pointed at him and said, “Name two pronouns.” Johnny replied, “Who, me?” 

Based on those who laughed, we now know who is good with words and grammar.

“Who, me?” 

In the Church of San Luigi dei Francesi in Rome, there are three magnificent paintings by the great Italian artist Caravaggio. Each of the paintings portrays a significant moment in the life of our Patron Saint, Matthew. There is the Inspiration of St. Matthew, the angel giving Matthew the words of his Gospel, and the Martyrdom of St. Matthew, depicting his death. However, the one that concerns us today is the Calling of St. Matthew. 

In the painting, Matthew is seated with five other tax collectors who are counting their money. Also in the scene are Jesus and Peter, both of whom are pointing at Matthew.

Matthew’s right hand is stretched out on the table, counting coins, while with his left hand, Matthew is pointing back to himself. The expression on his face—“Who, me?”

I know that feeling. When I first heard God calling me into service, my first response was, “Don’t be stupid.” Yet, God was calling me, and God was calling Matthew. Both of us responded, “Who, me?” And in each case, God responded, “Yes, you.”

Another of the greatest artists is Rembrandt. In his early career, Rembrandt was wildly successful. Painting and selling portraits, buying the big house, and all the finest art to fill it—living the life. However, all the big spending eventually caught up to him, and he ended up losing it all and dying penniless. Even though he had lost everything, he continued to paint, and the subject he most frequently painted was himself. Rembrandt painted sixty-three self-portraits. This was not an exercise in vanity, nor was it simply to practice his art. He painted himself, year after year, as a “‘search for the spiritual through the channel of his innermost personality.’ Rembrandt felt that he had to enter into his own self, into his dark cellars as well as into his light rooms, if he really wanted to penetrate the mystery of man’s interiority.” (You are the Beloved, Henri Nouwen, June 27) Through those sixty-three self-portraits, Rembrandt was searching for himself. In the process, he understood that as he lived his life, he was also repainting his interior self—a continuous reworking of an interior self-portrait.

Jesus pointed at Matthew, and Matthew pointed at himself and asked, “Who, me?” Jesus responded, “Yes, you.” So, like Rembrandt, Matthew was left with the option of repainting his interior self-portrait or remaining as he was, sitting at a table counting coins, never realizing the life Jesus was calling him to. It is the same for each of us.

We each have an interior self-portrait that is being continuously repainted as we seek to know who we truly are. This interior self-portrait has little or nothing to do with the portrait and all the masks we show to the world. Instead, the interior self-portrait includes all the light and all the darkness that you don’t show to anyone. Sometimes, that interior self-portrait is so fluid it has difficulty maintaining form, and we begin to wonder who we actually are.

During World War II, the great German theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer was arrested and imprisoned. He would be executed before he could be freed. Although his writing reflects a deep and abiding faith, he, too, had his doubts as to who he truly was. His interior self-portrait was also fluid. During one of those moments, instead of painting an image, Bonhoeffer wrote a poem—Who Am I?

Who am I? They often tell me,
I step out from my cell,
composed, contented and sure,
like a lord from his manor.

Who am I? They often tell me,
I speak with my jailers,
frankly, familiar and firm,
as though I was in command.

Who am I? They also tell me,
I bear the days of hardship,
unconcerned, amused and proud,
like one who usually wins.

Am I really what others tell me?
Or am I only what I myself know of me?
Troubled, homesick, ill, like a bird in a cage,
gasping for breath, as though one strangled me,
hungering for colors, for flowers, for songs of birds…

Am I then, this today and other tomorrow?
Am I both at the same time? In public, a hypocrite
And by myself, a contemptible, whining weakling?

Who am I? Lonely questions mock me.

He then concludes,

Who I really am, you know me, I am thine, O God! (Voices in the Night, p.45)

One more artist, perhaps you’ve not heard of—Charles Boyer. Boyer began working for Walt Disney and Disneyland in 1960. In one of his paintings, he has Mickey Mouse painting a self-portrait. Mickey is leaning over, looking in a mirror, and busily painting his portrait. However, the image on the canvas is not that of Mickey Mouse. It is Walt Disney. Mickey Mouse is painting the image of his creator that is within him. 

Bonhoeffer asked, “Who am I?” He concluded, “Who I really am, you know me, I am thine, O God!” Bonhoeffer was painting his interior self-portrait and, in doing so, was attempting to paint the image of his Creator that was within him.

Rembrandt looked in the mirror and painted his sixty-three self-portraits, all along, searching for the image of the Creator Who was within him.

Jesus looked at Matthew and said, “Follow me.” In doing so, Jesus invited Matthew to follow Him and repaint the interior self-portrait. At first, Matthew probably thought, “Who, me?” But then we are told, “he got up and followed” Jesus. Matthew repainted the interior self-portrait, and it revealed the image of his Creator.

St. Paul, writing to the Ephesians, tells them “to put off your old self, which belongs to your former manner of life and is corrupt through deceitful desires, and to be renewed in the spirit of your minds, and to put on the new self, created after the likeness of God in true righteousness and holiness.” (Ephesians 4:22-24) We are called to do the same—to put off the old self and to put on the new self. To repaint the interior self-portrait into the image of our Creator… into the image of Jesus. 

When Jesus points to us, we, along with so many others, likely say, “Who, me?” Jesus smiles and says, “Yes, you. You follow me. Repaint the interior self-portrait in My Image, for I am your loving Creator, and you are Mine.”

Today, Jesus hands you a set of paints, some brushes, and a fresh white canvas. He invites you to follow Him. He invites you to repaint yourself in the Image of your Creator. In His Image. You say, “But I can’t paint!” From Proverbs, we read,

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart,
 and do not rely on your own insight.”
(Proverbs 3:5)

You can’t paint? Trust in the Lord to guide you. Don’t rely on yourself; He will reveal His Image in you.

Let us pray:
God, our Father,
You redeemed us
and made us Your children in Christ.
Through Him You have saved us from death
and given us Your Divine life of grace.
By becoming more like Jesus on earth,
may we come to share His glory in Heaven.
Give us the peace of Your kingdom,
which this world does not give.
By Your loving care protect the good You have given us.
Open our eyes to the wonders of Your Love
that we may serve You with willing hearts.
Amen.

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Sermon: Ignatius of Loyola

Ignatius of Loyola (as Superior General) by Francisco de Zurbarán

Born in 1491, Ignatius of Loyola began his life as a privileged young man.  In his autobiography, he writes, “Up to his twenty-sixth year, he was a man given over to the world’s vanities and special delight in the exercise of arms with a great and vain desire of winning glory.” That great desire for glory nearly cost him his life as he was severely injured in the battle of Pamplona in 1521. During this time of healing, he had a great spiritual awakening and understood that his life must be dedicated to the work of Jesus. No longer would he be a knight in the battles of the world, but he would become Christ’s knight in the battle for souls.

This dedication led him to write his Spiritual Exercises, a collection of prayers and exercises practiced over 30 days—a rather intense spiritual retreat if practiced fully. Next, following his education, he formed the Society of Jesus, the Jesuits, and became their first Superior General.

His prayers are some of the most beautiful. For example, to maintain his dedication to Christ, he wrote:

O my God, teach me to be generous,
teach me to serve you as I should,
to give without counting the cost,
to fight without fear of being wounded,
to work without seeking rest,
to labour without expecting any reward,
but the knowledge that I am doing your most holy will.

In our Gospel reading, we are told of one coming to Jesus and saying, “I will follow you, Lord; but let me first say farewell to those at my home.” Jesus told him, “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.”

I imagine it is the same with our modern farming equipment as it was with oxen in the time of Jesus: If you keep turning to look where you have been instead of where you are going, you will have rows as crooked as Louisiana politicians. You must stay focused on what is ahead, not behind.

The same is very true when Christ calls someone into his service. He calls us to abandon our former way of life and turn to him. Focus on him and him alone. If we are constantly looking back, wondering what we might have done, thinking of the temptations of our old life, or even dwelling on past sins that God has long since forgiven, then—as Jesus states later in Luke’s Gospel—one like this cannot be my disciple.

For us, Ignatius of Loyola is one who put his hand to the plow and appears to have never even considered looking back. He is an example to us of what unwavering faith and dedication to Christ and his Church can accomplish. May we learn from him and emulate his life in keeping our focus on the Master.

A few prayers are near to my heart: Ave Maria/Hail Mary, The prayer to St. Michael the Archangel, and the Anima Christi, Soul of Christ, by Ignatius. I’ll conclude with it. Let us pray:

Soul of Christ, sanctify me.
Body of Christ, save me.
Water from the side of Christ, wash me.
Passion of Christ, strengthen me.
Good Jesus, hear me.
Within the wounds, shelter me.
From turning away, keep me.
From the evil one, protect me.
At the hour of my death, call me.
Into your presence lead me
to praise you with all your saints.
Forever and ever.
Amen.

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Sermon: Proper 12 RCL B – “The Boat”

Photo by Mickey O’neil on Unsplash

The report states that on Lake Isabella, in California, a couple were new to sailing. I’ve done a little sailing in the past and know that it requires a bit of instruction before you get out there on your own; however, with only a few hours, the couple purchased themselves a brand new 22-foot sailboat, invited friends, and headed out. Nothing went right. No matter how hard they tried, they couldn’t get the boat going. It was very sluggish in almost every maneuver, no matter how much wind was blowing or power they applied through the inboard motor. After about an hour of trying to make it go, they put into a nearby marina, thinking someone there could tell them what was wrong. A thorough topside check revealed everything was in perfect working condition. So, one of the marina guys jumped in the water to check underneath to see if perhaps the keel was not properly deployed or damaged. He came up choking on water, he was laughing so hard. Under the boat, still strapped securely in place, was the boat trailer! There was no problem with the boat. It was all operator error.

This is reportedly an urban legend, but a fella in Oregon says it really happened. The only difference, he didn’t have to get in the water. He could see the trailer’s license plate sticking up.

My friend St. Josemaría Escrivá wrote, “I never talk politics. I do not approve of committed Christians in the world forming a political-religious movement. That would be madness, even if it were motivated by a desire to spread the spirit of Christ in all the activities of men.” (Christ is Passing By, #153)

I happen to agree with that 100%. After almost a decade of preaching in this church, you may have noticed that I don’t fly anyone’s flag. If we were to fly a flag in this sanctuary, the only thing it would say is “Sinners in the hands of a Loving God,” because once you strip away all the rest, that is all that remains. As the Church and a Christian people, that is what we should be most concerned about. So today, I’m not planning on breaking my rule, but I would like to address how we engage in that realm of politics and what I believe the role of Christianity and the Church should be. If you all walk away unhappy with what I say, then I’ll feel like I did my job.

It begins by understanding truth. Is there such a thing as an ultimate truth? Yes. I’m sure some of you cross your fingers at specific points, but we speak what we believe as the ultimate truth when we confess our faith in the Creeds—“We believe in one God, the Father, the Almighty….” However, for many, the ultimate truth does not end there. We have what we believe are ultimate truths about everything from the abhorrent abomination of mint chocolate ice cream to questions of sexuality, end-of-life issues (euthanasia, assisted suicide, aging), immigration and refugees, the war in Ukraine, Israel, or Africa, etc.

The point is that we have the truth of our Creed, and then we have these other truths, which are often opinions or personal truths. This then leads to a great deal of the current strife we experience—if it is true for me, whether you agree with it or not, then it must unequivocally be true for you. If you disagree with me, which in many cases is the opinion or personal truth of the majority, you are a terrible person. When you say, “I’m going to remain silent,” well, then you are an evil person. This is also where Christianity comes in because Christians love this—someone will haul out the quote from Dietrich Bonhoeffer (even though he never said it): “Silence in the face of evil is itself evil: God will not hold us guiltless. Not to speak is to speak. Not to act is to act.” Therefore, if I speak an opinion or personal truth and you either a) disagree or b) do not stand up in support of my personal truth, then you’re going to hell. I say abortion is evil. You say that not supporting women’s rights is evil. Some choose to remain silent, so we both say they are evil. Ultimately, by calling someone evil, we are saying that God is on our side and we are the righteous. It is this arrogance that leads to heresies like the one we see on the rise today—Christian nationalism.

One of the great contemporary Anglican theologians, N.T. Wright states, “Christian nationalism is impoverished as it seeks a kingdom without a cross. It pursues a victory without mercy. It acclaims God’s love of power rather than the power of God’s love.” He then references our Gospel reading for today when he writes, “We must remember that Jesus refused those who wanted to ‘make him king’ by force just as much as he refused to become king by calling upon ‘twelve legions of angels.’ Jesus needs no army, arms, or armoured cavalry to bring about the kingdom of God. As such, we should resist Christian nationalism as giving a Christian facade to nakedly political, ethnocentric and impious ventures.”

Someone or some group begins to believe that they know the absolute truth, so they demand that this truth be not only believed by everyone but legislated and imposed on everyone. To make their case even more potent, they break the Second Commandment by taking the Lord’s Name in vain, claiming God is on their side. 

In the end, if we continue on this course, we will successfully destroy the nation and, worse, the Church. It is the hard lesson the German Lutherans learned as the Nazis began to rise to power—Christianity and government do not go together. It is why Jesus fled when they tried to make Him king. As the state is on the rise, it will make certain concessions to the Church to gain support; however, once the state has full power, it will expect the Church to make concessions to it, ultimately bringing the Church to a point where it will either compromise the Faith or be persecuted by the state they helped to build. You may be thinking, “Father John, you’ve been reading too many dystopian novels.” Maybe, but that’s not where this line of thought originates. It is coming from history. When the Church gets into bed with the state, it is always the Church that ends up getting short-sheeted.

Enough of that. What’s the point? If this is a problem, then what is the solution? 

The short version of a popular quote, generally attributed to G.K Chesterton, “We are all in the same boat.” The long version of that quote is, “We are all in the same boat in a stormy sea, and we owe each other a terrible loyalty.” However, today, it is popular to say, “We are all in the same storm but not the same boat.” It is then explained that some are in a little dingy without a paddle, others are on super yachts, and others ride around in aircraft carriers. At first, this appears to be a valid point, but it is also a lie. We are all in the same boat, but we’ve forgotten what Chesterton said, “We owe each other a terrible loyalty.” There is nothing wrong with the boat we are in, but someone forgot to detach the trailer. Our boat is good, but operator error is wreaking havoc, and we are the operator.

Whether in the Church or society, it is true (not opinion!), “The eye cannot say to the hand, ‘I don’t need you!’ And the head cannot say to the feet, ‘I don’t need you!’” (1 Corinthians 12:21) Our boat is fine, but so many seem to be under the impression that they’re the only ones in it. 

The storm on the rough waters has always been interpreted as life, and the boat has always represented the Church and our faith. The fantastic thing about that boat is that it has always accommodated and made room for everyone, including those who aren’t even Christian. Why? Because this boat is not of our making. It is of God’s making, and there is not a single person—not one—that our God desires to perish. Every person we allow in is a way of allowing Jesus in. You might not like them, you may disagree with everything they say, you may not want anything to do with them, but let them in the boat. Let Jesus in the boat. They are a child of God and you owe them a terrible loyalty. 

When the disciples saw Jesus walking on the water, they were terrified. Jesus said to them, “It is I; do not be afraid.” Some who walk up to the boat may be so different from us that we become afraid, but Jesus says the same thing to us, “Do not be afraid. Let them on the boat and we will all get safely to the other side.”

Let us pray: Lord Jesus, Son of God, our brother and our savior, we give you glory. Protect your Church and make us one. Send your Spirit to guide us and to lead us back to unity and love. Lord Jesus, we praise your holy name forever. Amen.

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Sermon: Mary Magdalene

Judith with the Head of Holophernes, by Cristofano Allori, 1613

The Book of Judith can be found in the Apocrypha, which means, according to Article 6 of the 39 Articles, “The Church doth read for example of life and instruction of manners; but yet doth it not apply them to establish any doctrine.”

The book begins, “It was the twelfth year of Nebuchadnezzar who reigned over the Assyrians in the great city of Nineveh,” which rabbinical scholars state is equivalent to saying, “A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away….”  In other words, it is historical fiction but a great read.

Israel is under attack from the Assyrians in the north. On their way to Jerusalem, the Assyrians conquer everyone in their path, finally coming up against the Jewish city of Bethulia.

The general of the Assyrian army, Holofernes, is all for immediately marching in and conquering it. Still, the Edomites, who are with him, convince him to lay siege instead by cutting off the water supply. They do, and they wait.

After thirty-five days, the people of Bethulia are ready to surrender, but the mayor convinces them to wait five more days, saying that if God did not rescue them after 40 days, he would surrender.

It is then that Judith goes into action. She plans to save her people by whatever means necessary, and the plan requires her to get safely into the Assyrian camp. She will need to lie to do this, so she prays that she can lie well.  We heard part of it today, including the words, “King of all your creation, hear my prayer! Make my deceitful words bring wound and bruise on those who have planned cruel things against your covenant.”  

She is very beautiful, so to accentuate that beauty, she dresses seductively. Then, leaving the city with her maidservant, she allows herself to be taken captive. Because of her beauty, they do not harm her, and when she lies, saying she has information on how to defeat the Israelites, she is taken to Holofernes. Beautiful woman encounters lustful general. Care to guess what the general is thinking?  Yahtzee!  

Judith’s plan works, but she keeps the general’s desire at bay for several days. Eventually, she declares that she will give in to his wishes. He is so excited by the prospect that he celebrates. In fact, he celebrates so much with liquor that he passes out. Scripture picks up: “With that, she went up to the bedpost by Holofernes’ head and took down his scimitar; coming closer to the bed, she caught him by the hair and said, ‘Make me strong today, Lord God of Israel!’ Twice she struck at his neck with all her might and cut off his head.” Then, after escaping through the enemy camps, she returned to the city. She said to the people, “Praise God! Praise him! Praise the God who has not withdrawn his mercy from the House of Israel but has shattered our enemies by my hand tonight!” She then had them place the head of the general on the city gate, which struck fear into the hearts of the Assyrians, which led to great chaos. The Israelites used the chaos, attacked, and drove the Assyrians from their land. I think Judith would have made a good Marine.

Interestingly, this story is tied to the feast of St. Mary Magdalene, which we celebrate today. Why? Because they are both declaring a victory. Judith says, “Praise God! Praise him! Praise the God who has not withdrawn his mercy from the House of Israel but has shattered our enemies.” She is declaring salvation from an earthly enemy. Mary Magdalene says, “I have seen the Lord.” She declares salvation for us all—our salvation over sin and death. In essence, Mary is saying, “Praise God!  Praise Him! Praise the God who I have seen, who has conquered death, once and for all, and brought salvation to all God’s children.”

With her, we say, “Praise God for our salvation through Christ Jesus.”

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Sermon: Proper 11 RCL B – “Come Away with Me”

Photo by Ante Hamersmit on Unsplash

Little Johnny got himself a drum for his birthday. It was one like the drummer boy in the infantry might have carried into battle, and Johnny loved his drum. He banged on the drum at home, and even worse; he would go up and down the neighborhood streets making all kinds of racket.  No amount of coaxing would get him to stop, and it was for lack of trying. 

One person told Johnny that he would if he continued to make so much noise, perforate his eardrums. This reasoning was too advanced for Johnny, who was neither a scientist nor a scholar.

A second person told Johnny that playing the drum was a special activity and should be carried out only on rare occasions. A third person offered the neighbors earplugs; a fourth gave Johnny a book; a fifth gave him meditation exercises to make him placid and docile. Nothing worked. Johnny banged away on his drum.

One day, Johnny’s grandpa came to town and wondered what all of the ruckus was about. He surveyed the situation, then went out to the garage. When he came back, he had a hammer and a chisel. He set them on the table in front of Johnny. As he turned to walk away, he said, “I wonder what’s on the inside of that drum?”

Grandpa was nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize.

You are familiar with the story of Elijah, but for a refresher… Elijah showed the strength of the Lord and put to shame the 450 priests of Baal. When the people saw this, they had those priests put to death. When Jezebel, the wife of King Ahab, heard this, she became furious and sent word to Elijah, essentially saying, “I’m coming for you.” Fearing for his life, Elijah ran. Scripture says he “went a day’s journey into the wilderness and came and sat down under a broom tree. And he asked that he might die, saying, ‘It is enough; now, O Lord, take away my life, for I am no better than my fathers.’” (1 Kings 19:4)

Elijah worked tirelessly to convince and convert the people and the king to cease their worship of Baal and follow God. He had performed miracles. He had preached. For his efforts, he received a death sentence. He had done all that he knew to do and was tired, so he said to God, “I’m done. I don’t care anymore. Kill me and let me rest.” 

The drum of Elijah’s life had been pounding and pounding. He had no peace, which drove him to the point of not caring. Not caring for his own life and not really caring anymore about what God had called him to.

We are told that when Elijah reached this point, he had just quit, lay down under a tree, and gone to sleep. After a while, an angel of the Lord came to him, woke him up, and gave him something to eat. Then Elijah slept a bit more. And after another while, the angel of the Lord came to him again, fixed a meal, and woke Elijah, saying, “Arise and eat, for the journey is too great for you.” Elijah did and then continued on his journey to Mt. Horeb, where he would encounter God in the still, small voice. There’s a funny meme that’s made its way around the internet. It reads, “This is your gentle reminder that one time in the Bible, Elijah was like, ‘God, I’m so mad! I want to die!’ So God said, ‘Here’s some food. Why don’t you have a nap?’ So Elijah slept, ate, and decided things weren’t so bad.” The conclusion, “Never underestimate the spiritual power of a nap and a snack.” 

The angel of the Lord said to Elijah, “Arise and eat, for the journey is too great for you.” Through the angel, the messenger, the Lord said, “All that you’ve been through really is too much. I understand that, but I need you to continue in this work, so for a time, quiet the drum of your life and rest for a minute.”

Last week, we spoke about desiring God above all things and how God makes Himself available to us when we do. The Lord says, “You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.” (Jeremiah 29:13) The Psalmist writes, “The Lord is near to all who call on him, to all who call on him in truth.” (Psalm 145:18) However, there are times in our lives when the drum is beating so quickly and so loudly that we say, “I desire you Lord, but I don’t have the time to seek you. The banging of the drum of my life is so “loud” that I can’t shout above all the racket to call on You.” Like Elijah, the journey is too much for us, and we may reach a point where we love God, but we just can’t find the energy to care.

Thomas Merton writes, “We live in a state of constant semi-attention to the sound of voices, music, traffic, or the generalized noise of what goes on all the time around us. This keeps us immersed in a flood of racket and words… Resigned and indifferent, we share semiconsciously in the mindless mind of Muzak and radio commercial which pass for ‘reality.’” 

The beat of the drum becomes so loud that it drives out everything else and makes us indifferent to many things, including God. This is the “demon of acedia, [defined as] the restless spiritual boredom and disgust with existence that would lure one from prayer into ultimately dissatisfying distractions… and eventually away from God.” (The New Ressourcement, “Thomas Aquinas, the ‘Nones,’ and the ‘Dones’”)

When the beat of the drum, the Muzak, life, the journey becomes too much, the acedia sets in, and we shut down and may even shut off our connection to God. When it happened to Elijah, God said, “Here, have a cookie. Take a nap. Find some silence and rest for a bit. You’ll feel better and then be able to continue.” He did, and it worked. Jesus did the same thing with His disciples after they had been going strong.

We do not know how long they were gone, but prior to our Gospel reading today, we know that Jesus sent the disciples out, two-by-two, and “they went out and proclaimed that people should repent.  And they cast out many demons and anointed with oil many who were sick and healed them.” (Mark 6:12-13) Today’s Gospel begins with their return from this mission trip, and Jesus says to them, “‘Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while.’ For many were coming and going, and they had no leisure even to eat. And they went away in the boat to a deserted place by themselves.”

The Lord knew how loudly the drum had been beating in the disciples’ ears. He knew they were exhausted, so instead of allowing them to reach the used-up condition of Elijah, He said to them, “Come away to a quiet place with me. Let’s have a cookie, maybe take a nap, and ‘hang out’ for a while.” As with Elijah, who encountered God in the stillness of the mountain, the disciples were also able to have an encounter with Jesus in the stillness of that place. Sure, the crowds eventually find them, and they all have to go back to work, but for a time, like in the beginning, they were allowed to walk with God in the Garden—to be with one another and enjoy each other’s company and fellowship. In doing so, God was able to heal their weary bodies and souls.

When was the last time you just ‘hung out’ with God? When was the last time you went away to a quiet place and rested in Him? Jesus says, “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28) This rest is a gift offered to us today—the gift of healing, renewal, and refreshment. Give yourself permission to stop. Grab a hammer and a chisel and go to work on that drum. Have a cookie, lie down in the green pasture beside the still waters, take a nap, and spend time being with God. By doing so, He will revive your soul. Like Elijah and the disciples, you can be renewed and then continue with the work He has set before you.

Edwina Gateley is a speaker and spiritual writer. She wrote the poem, Let Your God Love You. It makes for a beautiful prayer.

Let us pray: 

Be silent.
Be still.
Alone.
Empty
Before your God.
Say nothing.
Ask nothing.
Be silent.
Be still.
Let your God look upon you.
That is all.
God knows.
God understands.
God loves you
With an enormous love,
And only wants
To look upon you
With that love.
Quiet.
Still.
Be.

Let your God—
Love you.

(Psalms of a Laywoman, p.59)

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