Lent, Suffering, Transformation

A Shadow of a Cross

Rev Kathy

 

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Moving through Lent brings us ever closer to the cross, to the events that mark the passion of Christ. For now, the cross is barely visible, just a shadow, but we know it is a part of this journey. We know that if Lent is genuinely a part of our faith journey, we will get to the cross and all that it means to us. On the way, we will participate in the passion of Jesus.

Marcus Borg writes about this kind of participation.

Imagine that it’s about participating in Jesus’s passion for the transformation of “this world” into a world of justice and peace. Imagine that it’s about a passion to change “this world.” What difference might that make for what it means to be Christian – and to be an American Christian?

Might our Lenten journey become more than forty empty days of observing this part of the Christian year? Might Lent become a deeply sincere expression of our devotion? Might we find along our Lenten path a renewed passion to transform our world?

God grant that we can experience a holy passion. It is not an easy road for us. Dietrich Bonhoeffer does not describe a Christ that is gloriously transported to heaven. Instead, he says this:

Christ is not gloriously transported from earth into heaven. He must instead go to the cross. And precisely there, where the cross stands, the resurrection is near. Precisely here, where all lose faith in God, where all despair about the power of God, God is fully there, and Christ is alive and near.

― Dietrich Bonhoeffer, God Is on the Cross: Reflections on Lent and Easter

The glorious miracle is that what we see now as a mere shadow of a cross becomes a clear vision of resurrection — Christ’s and ours.

Clouds, Darkness, Faith, Fear

Faith Breaks Through

Rev Kathy

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When all seems bleak, we tend to cling tighter to faith. In these challenging days, many people are finding that faith is all they have left. They feel like they are living in a country that has betrayed them and left them vulnerable. For many, this is a time filled with dark clouds and the fear they portend. Columnist Leonard Pitts, Jr. describes these days in an op-ed entitled “What Kind of Witnesses Shall We Be?” He writes:

The Southern Poverty Law Center reports that since the election of Donald Trump, there has been a spike in right-wing extremism. African Americans, Hispanics, Asians, Muslims, gays, transgender men and women, all of the most vulnerable and marginalized, find themselves under renewed attack: harassment, vandalism and even murder.

It is a tragic state of affairs, to be sure, leaving so many people with nothing but their faith in America and their belief that American people are ultimately good. They are living in fear and uncertainty. Yet, for them faith breaks through to the truth that America truly is a land that promises “liberty and justice for all.”

We will live on in spite of the dark clouds that hang over us. We will take the next step, not in certainty, but in faith. People in every century have learned that in the darkest of times, faith breaks through. That’s good news for us all.

However dark the clouds may be, faith breaks through to truth, holds fast to it, and never lets it go.

– Jean Pierre de Caussade, 18th century

Creating, Dreams, Hope, Transformation

An Opening in the Ordinary

Rev Kathy

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Often I complain to my husband about every day being ordinary. For us, very few events break up the time, making each day seem pretty much like yesterday, tomorrow too. It is a sad state of affairs to have stopped expecting anything extraordinary.

But there is a remedy for me when all seems mundane. I get out my watercolor paints and lose myself in creativity for a few hours. It works. . . not creating any masterpiece to be sure, but letting my dreams loose so that they flow out from paint brush to paper. The colors, one blending into another and another, is my passage out of reality and into the possibility of transformation.

It is definitely, as Bishop Stephen Charleston writes, “an opening in the ordinary.”

Here’s how he expresses it.

An opening has occurred in the ordinary, a passage between the reality we have always accepted and the possibility of transformation . . . This is the day, the everyday, the extraordinary day, when we step over doubt to trust, over resignation to hope, over now to forever.

So in the midst of my ordinary days, I can still hope for an opening in the ordinary, for the possibility of transformation. I can find extraordinary moments smack dab in the middle of an ordinary day.  I give thanks to God for the grace of transformation.

God's presence, Life pathways

Bridges and Tunnels

Rev Kathy
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River bridge and tunnel over the White River at Cotter, Arkansas. Photo by Ray Brooks.

Life has its share of bridges and tunnels. I have traversed both. The bridges were nearly always open to the world and promised to take me to the other side of something. And although long bridges, old rickety bridges, and high-over-a-river bridges do present some measure of fear in crossing, bridges are pretty welcoming. They offer a wide-open promise to get you across.

Tunnels, on the other hand, are not wide open at all. They represent a more mysterious part of the journey, a few dark moments when you must enter the tunnel with faith that it won’t collapse on top of you and that there will be light at the end of it. Tunnels bury you for a time under rock, mountains, or water.

I’m prepared for crossing bridges and going through tunnels. So many life events have been my preparation, teaching me to move forward with confidence and courage. And God has proven to be present with me no matter how deep the tunnel or how long the bridge.

So I’ll keep moving, and along the way, I will enjoy the breathtaking vistas I see from the bridges. And I might even enjoy going into the tunnels, which could well be a time for me to experience the kind of darkness that touches the peaceful darkness inside me.

 

Lent, Uncategorized

When “Moonlight” Upstages “La La Land”

Rev Kathy

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Moving through Lent can be a brutally honest journey, a journey for looking deeply within ourselves and trying to make peace with what we find there. More honesty can bring more contrition. If we are wise, we will not allow ourselves to trudge through guilt and self-recrimination. Instead, we will open our hearts and souls to transformation.

Still, Lent can be a season of wilderness filled with confusion. It is meant to be a journey of personal lament as we look straight into our hearts, which the place where transformation happens and resurrection is possible.

I was brought to tears a few nights ago as I read a Lenten meditation written by my friend, Ken Sehested. I share with you just a brief section of Ken’s meditation.

Lent is the liturgical season where this confusion rises to the surface, and we—especially people of privilege—are asked to enter the wilderness from which God, apparently, has absconded: where things don’t work out, where movies lack happy endings, where the faces of children are not cherry-cheeked, downy-soft, delightfully radiant.

Lent is the season when “Moonlight” upstages “La La Land.”

Lent beckons us into the wilderness, and there – through honest reflection and genuine repentance – we find transformation.
Read Ken Sehested’s excellent meditation, Lent is the season when “Moonlight” upstages “La La Land,” at this link:
http://www.prayerandpolitiks.org/articles-essays-sermons/2017/02/28/lent-is-the-season-when-moonlight-upstages-la-la-land.2487935

Freedom, Inspiration, Light

The Light in the Harbor

Rev Kathy
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Photo from the February 13-20 cover of the New Yorker magazine featuring the light of the Statue of Liberty snuffed out.

Lady Liberty’s torch went out last night due to a power failure. New York harbor was absent her light. There was even online speculation that the move was deliberate, to show solidarity with the “Day Without A Woman” inequality protests taking place today. We will possibly make more of this than we should, seeing the loss of her light as a commentary on our times. For certainly these days, some of our citizens experience the light going out on their freedom.

For those young people we call Dreamers, the light seems dim and their dreams seem to be in jeopardy. For our Muslim brothers and sisters, freedom’s light has dimmed. For Mexicans seeking refuge, there is the shadow of an unwelcoming dividing wall. Women once again fear the affliction of inequality.

Is it true? Has freedom’s light really gone dark in our country? Is there no light in the harbor?

The answer is a resounding “No!”

The Light was out for only two hours. What is more important is that America — the land of diversity, freedom, welcome and acceptance — will endure. The Statue of Liberty lights the harbor again, and the inscription on her base will remain as a testimony of welcome to the immigrants, immigration ban notwithstanding.

Inscribed on the base of the statue is the poem that Emma Lazarus penned in 1883. Protesters across the country cite the Moving poem as a clear argument against President Donald Trump’s travel ban and immigration crackdowns.

Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed, to me:
I lift my lamp beside the golden door.

God grant that America will always welcome the tired, the poor, from every corner of the world.

Lent, Prayer

A Lenten Hymn

Rev Kathy

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Lord, Who Throughout These Forty Days

Lord, Who throughout these forty days
For us didst fast and pray,
Teach us with Thee to mourn our sins
And close by Thee to stay.

As Thou with Satan didst contend,
And didst the victory win,
O give us strength in Thee to fight,
In Thee to conquer sin.

As Thou didst hunger bear, and thirst,
So teach us, gracious Lord,
To die to self, and chiefly live
By Thy most holy Word.

And through these days of penitence,
And through Thy passiontide,
Yea, evermore in life and death,
Jesus, with us abide.

Abide with us, that so, this life
Of suffering over past,
An Easter of unending joy
We may attain at last.
Text: Claudia F. Hernaman, 1873 (Mt. 4:1-11; Mk. 1:12-13; Lk. 4:1-13)

healing

Still Moving Toward Resurrection

Rev Kathy

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So here we are on this Lenten journey again, hoping that this time something will be different. We’re hoping that some great light will blind us for a brief moment and shake us out of the mundane lives we live. We’re still hoping that the remedy for the death of a soul is resurrection.

I found myself uncomfortably described in a meditation entitled “Living Lent” written by Barbara Cawthorne Crafton.

We didn’t even know what moderation was. What it felt like. We didn’t just work: we inhaled our jobs, sucked them in, became them. Stayed late, brought work home – it was never enough, though, no matter how much time we put in.

Suddenly we saw it all clearly: I am driven by my creatures – my schedule, my work, my possessions, my hungers. I do not drive them; they drive me. Probably yes. Certainly yes. This is how it is.

When did the collision between our appetites and the needs of our souls happen? Was there a heart attack? Did we get laid off from work, one of the thousands certified as extraneous? Did a beloved child become a bored stranger, a marriage fall silent and cold? Or, by some exquisite working of God’s grace, did we just find the courage to look the truth in the eye and, for once, not blink? How did we come to know that we were dying a slow and unacknowledged death? And that the only way back to life was to set all our packages down and begin again, carrying with us only what we really needed?

We travail. We are heavy laden. Refresh us, O homeless, jobless, possession-less Savior. You came naked, and naked you go. And so it is for us. So it is for all of us.

Still Moving Toward Resurrection. . .

Amen.

Grace, Life Journeys

“Life for Me Ain’t Been No Crystal Stair”

Rev Kathy

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The First Sunday during Lent finds me nursing a tension headache. The week of Fred’s testing caused no small measure of stress. A sense of fear overtook me. My Lenten journey, though, reminds me that this is appropriate, an expected part of life. For the Lenten walk is nothing at all if it does not reflect life’s journey itself . . . filled with times of darkness, fear, grief, uncertainty — all the human emotions that so assail us.

I am reminded of the brilliant poem written by Langston Hughes.

Well, son, I’ll tell you:
Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.
It’s had tacks in it,
And splinters,
And boards torn up,
And places with no carpet on the floor—
Bare.
But all the time
I’se been a-climbin’ on,
And reachin’ landin’s,
And turnin’ corners,
And sometimes goin’ in the dark
Where there ain’t been no light.
So, boy, don’t you turn back.
Don’t you set down on the steps.
‘Cause you finds it’s kinder hard.
Don’t you fall now—
For I’se still goin’, honey,
I’se still climbin’,
And life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.

– Langston Hughes

How true it is that “life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.” But God has walked with me along the way, pouring grace upon grief. Thanks be to God.

Prayer

The Cross Remains

Rev Kathy

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A Prayer for Saturday after Ash Wednesday

Loving Creator,

This is a hard and holy time, a journey I am compelled to travel.

It is a journey for facing myself and the realities of my life.

It is a journey of losing myself and allowing you to gather me up in your arms of grace.

For it is grace that I need so desperately,
grace that can take me through the shadows of my life and lead me to resurrection.

The cross imposed with ashes remains with me long after the ash is washed away.

I carry it into Lent, feeling almost heavy on my forehead,
a strong reminder of your sacrifice, your death, your resurrection,
and my own.

Amen.

Adventures, Beauty of Nature, Hope

Chasing Butterflies

Rev Kathy

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🦋  I have a childhood memory of chasing butterflies, trying to catch even one of those stunning winged creatures in a net. It seemed easy enough. Butterflies aren’t extremely fast flyers. Rather, they flutter around flowers and pause frequently in front of a bloom.

Try as I might, I never caught a single butterfly. As a child, I lamented my failure, but as an adult, I actually see the joy in the chase rather than the failure of the catch. Richie Singh has the right idea about the butterfly-chasing experience.

The joy about chasing butterflies is not the satisfaction that comes at the end, but the path that takes you there;

The irony about chasing butterflies is that sometimes you’ll get so lost in the chase, you won’t realize that you’re left chasing thin air;

But the agony about chasing butterflies is that sometimes you will keep on chasing, hoping, that a butterfly would materialize out of thin air.

― Richie Singh

Still, it’s not so bad to hope. As long as I chase with hope, it’s worth my time. I may never catch a butterfly in a net, but along the way, I’ll enjoy the chase and the hope.

Spiritual growth

Toward Resurrection: Never Rest

Rev Kathy

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A Meditation for Thursday after Ash Wednesday

Forty days! That seems like a very long time to reflect and repent. It’s not about giving up some material thing or some personal vice. It’s much more about giving up yourself, being willing to die to self and hoping that there really is a resurrection on the other side.

Lent is scary in a very real way because it is a journey we take alone, looking inside to see what is in our spirit, in our heart. We hope beyond hope that after the dry wilderness there will be living water. We hope beyond hope that after death, there will be resurrection.

Still, we stay on the journey, and if it means anything at all to us, we will have moments of fear, despair, shame, stubbornness, hopelessness, contrition, and finally exhilaration. We will not stop. We will not shrink back from the journey. We will not rest.

A.W. Tozer wrote, “We must never rest until everything inside us worships God.”

Artist of souls,
you sculpted a people for yourself
out of the rocks of wilderness and fasting.
Help us as we take up your invitation to prayer and simplicity,
that the discipline of these forty days
may sharpen our hunger for the feast of your holy friendship,
and whet our thirst for the living water you offer
through Jesus Christ. Amen.

– From the Revised Common Lectionary

Hope, Spiritual growth

Resurrection: The Holy Miracle

Rev Kathy

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Ash Wednesday 2017

Ashes on my forehead remind me of the need for renewal of my spirit. The ashes remind me of my longing to push past the deathly places within me and to re-experience a resurrection. One author has described Ash Wednesday as a time for smudges on the soul. Deeper than the sign of the cross imposed with ashes on my forehead is the smudge on my soul, a smudge that almost hurts in its reminder of my need for renewed and refreshed faith.

The Prophet Joel expresses it best:

Yet even now, says the LORD, return to me with all your heart, with fasting, with weeping, and with mourning; rend your hearts and not your clothing. Return to the LORD, your God, for he is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love, and relents from punishing.

– Joel 2:12-13, NRSV

“Rend your hearts and not your garments,” the prophet said. Open up your soul to the ashes of repentance. Experience Ash Wednesday deeply and personally. For the gift of this day is a season of confession and change, hope for a fresh start.

So today we begin the arduous Lenten journey from shadow to light, from hopelessness to hope, from unfaith to faith, from emptiness to wholeness, from death to resurrection. The Prophet Joel prophesied that the Holy Spirit would be poured out upon all people through the Savior of the world (Joel 2:28-32). At the end of this journey, may each of us experience the lavish, gracious outpouring of the Holy Spirit and the holy miracle of resurrection.

God of life,
On this journey we pass from the shadow of death
to the light of the resurrection.
Remain with us and give us hope
that, rejoicing in the gift of the Spirit
who gives life to our mortal flesh,
we may be clothed with the garment of immortality,
through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

– From the Revised Common Lectionary

Change, Loss

Still in My Heart

Rev Kathy
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My new church home, First Baptist Church of Christ in Macon, Georgia.  The memory of New Millenium Church of Little Rock will remain a part of my life, still in my heart.

Yesterday marked a milestone for me. After being in Macon for almost two years, I joined the First Baptist Church of Christ. Why such a delay in finding a new church home? I have asked myself that question many times.

The delay wasn’t about the new church. I was attracted to that church instantly, and it is a good place for me to grow spiritually. My extreme hesitation was about my previous church, New Millennium Church in Little Rock.

Some of the most life-giving days of my ministry were spent serving with New Millennium as Minister of Worship. But there was much more about New Millennium that captured my heart. For you see, the grace-filled, loving people of New Millennium kept vigil with me during my very serious year of illness. They prayed me to health; they brought food for us every week; they brought communion to my living room when I was still too weak to move.

I grieved for almost two years after leaving my pastor, friend and colleague in ministry, Wendell Griffen. I grieved the loss of the people of New Millennium, and I simply could not open my heart to another congregation. It was most certainly an emotional attachment, a deeply spiritual attachment that I simply could not bear to replace.

The page did turn for me. I opened my heart to a new people on Sunday. They welcomed me with joy and love. But New Millennium will still be in my heart, probably forever.

I thank my God every time I remember you. In all my prayers for all of you, I always pray with joy because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now, being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.

It is right for me to feel this way about all of you, since I have you in my heart . . .

– Philippians 1:3-7 New International Version (NIV)

Loss

Holy Ghosts

Rev Kathy

 

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“Holy Ghosts”  Watercolor by Kathy Manis Findley

I’m not afraid of ghosts. While I was a hospital chaplain, I regularly visited a woman who was slowly recovering from a serious illness. During one of our visits, she shared with me this story.

When I pray at night, my daddy comes into the room. Now daddy has been dead for years, but still he sits with me, especially at night. I can’t really explain it, but here’s right here with me, talking to me, comforting me . . . like a holy ghost.

I think she explained it very well. I have heard similar stories from other patients, and I believe with them that the space between us and our departed loved ones is a thin veil, a sacred veil. I recently saw the following quote attributed to Reagan Courtney. “When the dead come to mind, they are like holy ghosts, as real as hope or faith, as tangible as trust and love.”

A few months ago, I painted a watercolor entitled “Holy Ghosts.” It was dedicated to those I have loved and lost, those who hover over me with abiding love, consolation and protection . . . my dearest friend, Ethel, my brother Pete, my grandmother, my Aunt Koula.

The painting is not meant to be scary or morbid. It is just the opposite for me. It represents the souls who hover over us for protection, those with whom we shared love and life. For you see, love does not end with death. Love is too powerful for that. And who says we cannot continue to experience love through the sacred veil that only slightly separates us from the holy ghosts that remain a part of our lives?

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith.

– Hebrews 12:1-2 NIV

Gardening for the Soul, Spiritual growth

Brutal Pruning

Rev Kathy

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The Chinese Tallow tree in my yard used to be covered with vibrant leaves and white berries. Fred pruned it this year . . . brutally. I’m concerned that it won’t survive the assault. And I will so miss the shade of my beautiful tree.

Time will tell. As the spring draws nearer, I will watch the tree with hope. The theory is that after severe pruning, the tree will come back fuller and stronger, with superior shape. I’m not convinced. But I will hang on to hope.

Pruning times are important for humans too. After we survive a spiritual pruning, we bear more fruit, better fruit. The Bible describes the process.

He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful.

– John 15:2 NIV

I don’t like it much when I am enduring a pruning. It hurts. It feels like it is diminishing me. But I have learned, after enduring a few seasons of holy pruning, that I really do come back fuller and more vibrant.

I am hoping that this will also be true for my once-beautiful tree. I’ll keep you posted.

God's Faithfulness, God's presence, healing, Hope

Safe in God’s Care

Rev Kathy

enlight1

There are times when I need to draw close to God and stay there. There are moments that define us, and sometimes they are seasons of despair when prayer is the only thing to do. I have been through those hard seasons many times and found a way to reach out to God. I wanted to stay there, near to God’s heart of compassion, near to God’s glory, safe under God’s sheltering wings.

Peter, James and John found themselves on a high mountain with Jesus. Glory filled the place and the story tells us that Jesus became “as bright as a flash of lightening.” They wanted to stay there. Wouldn’t you? Peter, James and John were in the glow of the glory of Jesus. Peter spoke up and said, “We need to stay here, Master. Let us put up three shelters for you, Moses and Elijah. Let’s just stay here on this holy mountain.”

The story begins with Jesus praying in private with his disciples. He asked them, “Who do the crowds say I am?”

They replied by telling Jesus that some people were saying he was John the Baptist; others were saying he was Elijah. Others were saying that Jesus was one of the prophets of long ago who had come back to life. But Jesus wanted them to answer the question, “Who do you say I am?”

As he often did, Peter answered for the group. “God’s Messiah.”

Then Jesus strictly warned them not to tell this to anyone, predicting his imminent death and telling them that they would suffer as well. But then we get to the redeeming part of this story, the part that looks past the suffering and reveals the glory. Here is the Transfiguration text from the Gospel of Luke:

About eight days after Jesus said this, he took Peter, John and James with him and went up onto a mountain to pray. As he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became as bright as a flash of lightning. Two men, Moses and Elijah, appeared in glorious splendor, talking with Jesus. They spoke about his departure, which he was about to bring to fulfillment at Jerusalem. Peter and his companions were very sleepy, but when they became fully awake, they saw his glory and the two men standing with him. As the men were leaving Jesus, Peter said to him, “Master, it is good for us to be here. Let us put up three shelters—one for you, one for Moses and one for Elijah.”

– Luke 9:28-33 New International Version (NIV)

Without a doubt, the disciples of Jesus were about to enter one of those difficult life seasons. They would be tested to their limits, and would find themselves longing to draw close to Jesus once again and rest in that place of safety.

Mary Austin relates a story told by pastor and theologian Jennifer Bailey. (https://revgalblogpals.org/2017/02/21/narrative-lectionary-glory-then-guts-luke-928-45/). In a time of deep distress, Jennifer recalls the depth of her pain. This is how she describes her experience:

I folded into myself: my arms wrapped tightly around my knees and found their rest on my heaving chest . . . As I opened my mouth to cry out to God, as I often do in moments of hopelessness, no sound emerged…Rocking back and forth on the cool linoleum floor, I finally uttered the only words that I could find, “I don’t feel safe. I don’t feel safe.”

Like a gust of wind, I could suddenly feel the soulful presence of my ancestors surround me, holding me and bearing witness to my pain. Then I heard my mama’s spirit whisper gently, gently in my ear, “Baby, we ain’t never been safe”.

Jesus proclaimed the hard truth that there is no safety for those who follow him. Yet we live on, knowing that sometimes seasons of pain will engulf us. But also knowing that we are safe in God’s care, that God is faithful and present with us always.

Yes, sometimes I need to draw close to God and stay there. I hope I’ll have the wisdom and the will to stay there long enough.

Dreams

Seeing the Dawn

Rev Kathy

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What do you do when your dreams have died, when you realize that what you hoped for and dreamed for just isn’t going to happen? Sitting with the shards of broken dreams is not a good place to be. We are, deep inside of ourselves, dreamers that look toward a bright future filled with hope. We plan. We set goals. We dream. And we keep on dreaming.

The problem is that sometimes the world around us disrespects dreamers. “It’s impossible. It can’t be done. That’s a futile dream.” The voices of discouragement are incessant. Sherwood Anderson wrote:

“You must try to forget all you have learned,” said the old man. “You must begin to dream. From this time on you must shut your ears to the roaring of the voices.”

Haven’t we all experienced it? The roaring of the voices that tell us our dreams are not possible? The voices that insist our dreams have died? Of course, we have heard those voices. But we have dreamed on, longing to realize our “impossible dream.”

We who are dreamers envision a better world. We look into the dawn of realized dreams. We hold fast to our dreams, hearing through the years the echo of the words of Langston Hughes.

Hold onto dreams
For if dreams die
Life is like a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.

Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.

– Langston Hughes

So keep on dreaming. Cling tightly to your dreams. Ignore the voices that discourage you. Find your most excellent way by moonlight. And always remember that, because you are a dreamer, you really do see the dawn before the rest of the world.

Christian Witness, Courage, Freedom

Will Never Perish

Rev Kathy
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“Oscar Arnulfo Romero – My Hero”    ▪️   Art  by Curtis Narimatsu

Martyrs of the faith never perish. Their work lives on, inspiring others to sacrificial service. For centuries, God has graced us with men and women of courage whose lives stand before us as examples of faith. One such example is the late Óscar Romero, the Archbishop of San Salvador. Although he spoke out against poverty, social injustice, assassinations and torture, he was assassinated on March 24, 1980, while offering Mass in the chapel of the Hospital of Divine Providence in San Salvador.

Archbishop Romero inspired Christians around the world with his commitment to the poor, the outcast, and the marginalized — those whom Jesus described as the ‘least of these.’ Archbishop Romero’s stirring words from his last sermon capture the essence of his ministry and continue to inspire us all:

Those who surrender to the service of the poor through love of Christ will live like the grain of wheat that dies. It only apparently dies. If it were not to die, it would remain a solitary grain. The harvest comes because of the grain that dies . . . We know that every effort to improve society, above all when society is so full of injustice and sin, is an effort that God blesses; that God wants; that God demands of us.

On May 23rd, 2015, thirty-five years after his assassination, Óscar Romero was beatified in the capital city, San Salvador. At least 250,000 people filled the streets for the ceremony which was the last step before Archbishop Romero is declared a saint. But let us look back on his life. In 1980, the soon-to-be-assassinated Archbishop promised history that life, not death, would have the last word.

“I do not believe in death without resurrection,” he said. “If they kill me, I will be resurrected in the Salvadoran people.”

On each anniversary of his death, the people march through the streets carrying that promise printed on thousands of banners. But his murder was a savage warning. Even some who attended Romero’s funeral were shot in front of the cathedral by army sharpshooters. To this day no investigation has revealed Romero’s killers. What endures is Romero’s promise.

Days before his murder he said this to a reporter, “You can tell the people that if they succeed in killing me, that I forgive and bless those who do it. Hopefully, they will realize they are wasting their time. A bishop will die, but the church of God, which is the people, will never perish.”

In these days of peril, may we all heed the words of Pope Francis, “Let us be moved by the Holy Spirit in order to be courageous in finding new ways to proclaim the Gospel.”

Courageous faith that works on behalf of those who are poor will never perish. Lives dedicated to standing against injustice will never perish. God’s holy church, though it is made up of imperfect humans like you and me, will never perish. Thanks be to God.

 

God's Faithfulness, Joy

Of Sacred Worth

Rev Kathy

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Jesus said that we are worth more than many sparrows. Perhaps he knew that knowing our worth would elude us. It truly is difficult to recognize our worth. It is even more difficult to recognize our sacred worth and to know that God deeply values the persons we are.

In 1904, songwriter Civilla Martin went to visit a bedridden friend in Elmira, New York. Mrs. Martin asked the woman if she ever got discouraged because of her physical condition. Her friend quickly responded: “Mrs. Martin, how can I be discouraged when my heavenly Father watches over each little sparrow and I know He loves and cares for me?”

On her journey back home, Mrs. Martin completed the writing of this new hymn text:

Why should I feel discouraged, why should the shadows come, why should my heart be lonely and long for Heaven and home, when Jesus is my portion? My constant Friend is He: His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me…

“Let not your heart be troubled,” His tender word I hear, and resting on His goodness, I lose my doubts and fears; though by the path He leadeth but one step I may see: His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me…

Whenever I am tempted, whenever clouds arise, when songs give place to sighing, when hope within me dies, I draw still closer to Him; from care He sets me free; His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me…

The words of that hymn ring true for me as I recall the many times I have needed God’s protection and care. Based on several scriptures, this hymn and the scripture that inspired it has comforted many people in need over the years.

Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s care. And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.

– Matthew 10:29-31 New International Version (NIV)

I invite you to listen to the Mississippi Mass Children’s Choir singing “His Eye Is on the Sparrow” at this link:
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=v1MPFyVek-U

As you listen, meditate on the truth that you are a person of sacred worth to God.