And the natives showed us unusual kindness, for they kindled a fire and welcomed us all, because it had begun to rain and was cold. Acts 28:2
Thank you, Lord, for those who show kindness in unusual ways. Please let us bestow extraordinary kindness today towards someone who feels alone and rained upon.
God is light and in Him is no darkness at all.
-- I John 1:5
Life can feel like a complicated mess sometimes. There is no clear path forward. However, if we face the light and step in that direction, we can have hope.
Lord, when I feel confused and entangled and the life's path does not seem clear, help me to walk towards the light. With You as my Light and my Salvation, I have nothing to fear.
But his answer was: "My grace is all you need, for my power is greatest when you are weak."
2 Corinthians 12:9 (GNT)
MY grace is all you need...
My GRACE is all you need...
My grace IS all you need...
My grace is ALL you need...
My grace is all YOU need...
My grace is all you NEED...
--- I Chronicles 25:6 (KJV)
A world-class musician sits within the rubble of an iconic bombed-out cathedral, playing poignant music.
With his heart and sacred surroundings ravaged by the wounds of senseless war, cellist Sevak Avanesyn resiliently tuned his thoughts and talents to produce beauty. What he played -- a piece composed in the early 20th Century by a priest who once identified with this holy, now-suffering space. .
O God, our Help in ages past, when ruin surrounds us and the beauty of former times ceases to exist, grant us Your strength
to produce worshipful sounds amidst devastation.
*Artwork as seen on armenpress.am
For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, says the Lord.
-- Isaiah 55:8
We were sailing on the bay when I noticed something strange afar off on the horizon. From a distance, it looked like a big black blob sitting atop the water, with smokestacks protruding out from various places. My husband grabbed the binoculars and gasped at what he saw.
Atop a barge sat half of a submarine! As it headed up the channel and loomed closer, we gazed upon it in fascination. Clearly some sort of big project was in the works.
Later, I thought about that submarine – ugly and unrecognizable from afar, cut completely in half, yet an amazing project was in process.
Life can be that way.
We can’t make out what is happening, and we feel cut to the
quick. Yet as time passes, and we seek
the Master planner, things can become more clear. We may realize that God has us in the middle
of an amazing project. Although we don’t
fully know what is going on and we are cut in half, we seek God and trust that He is doing something big and beyond the scope of our imagination.
Lord, help me to believe that you are doing something good when all I can see is a black blob. Please keep me in Your channel -- on my own, I will run aground.
Moses did not know that the skin of his face shone because he had been talking with God.
Read below a 1980 translation of the same section, by
Allen Mandelbaum:
Both are translated from the same original text and express a common condition of middle-aged life. For me, the first provides exceptionally beautiful language and evokes deep inner stirrings.
In a similar way, experience Psalm 107:4, first from
a 1610 English translation and then a 1970s version.
They wandered in a
wilderness, in a place without water: they found not the way of a city for
their habitation.
(Douay Rheims Version 1610)
Lord, when I find myself lost in the forest of life, allow me to hear Your words in such a way that my heart is stirred.
Thou dost show me the path of life.
--- Psalm 16:11
Lead, Kindly Light, amidst the encircling gloom. Lead Thou me on. The night is dark and I am far from home, lead Thou me on. Keep thou my feet. I do not ask to see the distant scene. One step enough for me.
Lord, I'm walking in a dark place. Today, please show me the next step and lead me towards Your kingdom.
For we walk by faith and not by sight.
-- 2 Corinthians 5:7 (DB)
At times in life we find ourselves in need of something specific- a job, a place of worship, a school decision, a friend, or perhaps even a spouse. We desire clear direction, but the future lies shrouded in mist. God knows the way through the mist. Let us take His hand and seek Him first each day, even when we can't see through to the other side.
Lord, as St. John Henry Newman said, "I do not ask to see the distant scene. One step enough for me." Help me to trust in You for the future.
For He is like a refiner's fire.
--- Malachi 3:2 (RSV)
Taking matters into our own hands, we lit a fire to the useless lumpy mass of dead pine. It has been smoldering now for 24 hours, slowly eating away the dead wood.
Sometimes we are stumped by hard times, but God will use them to refine us. Fire can destroy in a bad way, but also can be helpful to get rid of dead wood. Is there dead wood in my life that needs removal?
Lord, allow me to
submit to Your purifying fires in order to remove the dead wood in my life.
I hope and pray the newlyweds were people of
faith. Then, in the same way their
wedding lights gleamed out into the darkness, they can radiate hope into a dark world. Together, their impact will
be doubled.
Lord,
let us shine Your light into dark places, reflecting hope to those who see us from near and far.
Oh, turn to me, and have mercy on me! Give Your strength to your servant, And save the son of Your maidservant. Shew me a token for good.
--- Psalm 86:16,17 (NKJV)
I reconnected the other day with an old friend. Recent years have been difficult for her. Her husband died from cancer following years
of stoically fighting Crohn’s Disease. His
anticip
After repeated losses, one is left with empty hands
and a trampled heart. When tempted towards
cynicism and despair, the Psalter provides the words with which to cry out, and
also gives license to our deepest feelings. Located in the very center of the Bible, the
Psalms give voice to the human heart cry.
Please, show
me some token of good this day, dear Lord.
Pleasant words are like a honeycomb, sweetness to the soul and health to the body.
--- Proverbs 16:24 (RSV)
“He always thanked me,”
she said.
That was the memory the clerk, at the local fruit and vegetable market, had of my father. After his sudden death, I told her of his passing. She knew of him immediately, and said a few times, “He always would say thank you.” I could picture Dad, smiling, leaning in a bit towards her as he expressed his gentle words of thanks.
That clerk wasn’t the only
person with whom Dad had contact in simple business doings, who remembered
his pleasant ways. The agent who managed his car and home insurance said, “I always enjoyed talking with your father." A similar comment was made by the
office manager at his home heating oil company.
Dad left his indelible
mark of kindness in each simple daily contact.
As he did with me.
Lord, thank you for the sweetness imparted through simple words of kindness.
He lifts the needy from the ash heap.
--- I Samuel 2:8
"Their whole family is a dumpster fire."
Someone said this to me recently, describing a hurting person whose life was crashing and burning. Not only was this individual causing self harm through unwise choices, but the person's family appeared to enable the problems.
Is there hope? Yes. Even if the fire is never actively put out and is left to burn, eventually it will leave ashes. God can lift the needy from the ash heap.
Lord, when my life is on fire, please rescue me. When I see a dumpster fire nearby, show me how to help.
But let every one prove his own work.
---Galatians 6:4
I never would have noticed the stray twig floating in the harbor. Neither would I have known an osprey was huddled within the small grouping of sticks atop the channel marker.
What I did see: a strong, beautiful osprey dipping and soaring about. When he touched the water with his talons, I assumed it was to catch a fish for breakfast. Instead he ascended, holding a sizable twig which then was delivered atop the post.
Then I saw a smaller bird busying itself to properly weave the stick into the growing pile. After deposit, the delivery bird rested for a time atop the post. Occasionally his beak would meet that of the bird nestled down amidst the twigs and branches.
Each osprey was busily tending to its tasks. Even a seemingly forgotten branch once colorfully alive with leaves and now broken, floating in the water, had a purpose. Before long both the birds and the twigs would be providing a home for new life.
Lord, you have given me work to do at this stage of my journey. Help me to recognize that work and willingly do my part.
--- Galatians 2:20
This ancient Chinese parable encapsulates Galatians 2:20.
Once upon a time, there was a beautiful garden. There in the
cool of the day the Master of the garden would walk. Of all the denizens of the
garden, the most beloved was a gracious and noble Bamboo. Year after year,
Bamboo grew yet more noble and gracious, conscious of his Master’s love and
watchful delight, but he always was modest and gentle.
Often when Wind came to revel in the garden, Bamboo would cast aside his grave
stateliness, to dance and play right merrily, tossing and swaying and leaping
and bowing in joyous abandon, leading the Garden in the great dance which most
delighted the Master’s heart.
Now one day, the Master drew near to contemplate his Bamboo
with eyes of the curious expectancy. Bamboo, in a passion of adoration, bowed
his great head to the ground in loving greeting. The Master spoke:
“Bamboo, I wish to use you.”
Bamboo flung his head to the sky in utter delight. The day
of days had come, the day for which he had been made, the day to which he had
been growing hour by hour, this day in which he would find his completion and
his destiny. His voice came low: “Master, I am ready. Use me as you will.”
“Bamboo,” the Master’s
voice was grave: ”I will have to take you, and cut you down.”
A trembling of great horror shook Bamboo. “Cut me down? Me,
whom you have made the most beautiful in all your garden? Cut me down? Oh,
not that! Use me for your joy, Master, but please do not cut not me down:”
“Beloved Bamboo,” the Master’s voice grew even more grave. “If
I do not cut you down, I cannot use you.”
The Garden grew still. Wind held his breath. Bamboo slowly
bent his proud and glorious head, and he whispered, “Master, if you can’t use
me unless you cut me down, then do your will and cut.”
“Bamboo, beloved Bamboo, I will have to cut your leaves and
your branches from you also."
“Master, spare me. Cut me down and lay my beauty in the
dust, but would you also take from me my leaves and my branches also?”
“If I do not cut them away, I cannot use you!”
The sun hid his face. A listening butterfly glided fearfully
away. Bamboo shivered in terrible expectancy, whispering low, “Master, cut
away."
"I also will have to cleave you in two and cut out your
heart, for if I do not cut so, I cannot use you.”
Bamboo bowed to the ground in sorrow: “Master,” he
whispered, “Then cut and cleave.”
So the Master of the Garden took Bamboo and cut him down and
hacked off his branches and stripped him of his leaves, and clove him in two
and cut out his heart, and, lifting him gently, carried him to where there was
a spring of fresh, sparkling water in the midst of his dry fields. Then,
putting one end of Broken Bamboo in the
spring and the other end into the water channel in his field, the Master laid
down gently his beloved Bamboo. The
spring sang welcome, and the clear, sparkling waters raced joyously down of
channel of Bamboo’s torn body into the waiting fields.
Then the rice was planted, and the days went by, and the
shoots grew, and the harvest came.
In that day, Bamboo, once so glorious in his stately beauty,
was yet more glorious in his brokenness, and humility. For in his beauty he was
life abundant, but in his brokenness he became a channel of abundant life to
his Master's world.*
Dear Lord, in my pain and brokenness make me a conduit of Your love.
He drew me up from the desolate pit, out of the miry bog, and set my feet upon a rock, making my steps secure.
--- Psalm 40:2
Sometimes our thoughts can become a desolate pit, so we call to God for help. He provides stepping stones across the daily bog -- flat stable places that keep us above the swirling brown mire.
Upon awakening, we can step on the rock of gratefulness, remembering good things God has done and naming current evidences of His hand in our lives. Then we step to morning devotions of quiet prayer and scripture reading, or perhaps attending daily mass. From there actual physical steps provide grounding, like working our job, or exercising or gardening. Step out within these places to give or receive a hug, or a friendly conversation.
Another stone is listening to God-centered radio, or a podcast that proclaims the faith. From there, reach for the cross you have hanging around your neck, or tucked away in your pocket.
If time allows, sit in silence at a chapel -- the next bit of solid footing. Then, while accomplishing necessary tasks, step to solid truths by listening to online Evening Prayer or Compline. http://prayer.covert.org/ The last stone can be some spiritual reading, just before turning out the light.
Daily stepping stones are found through the Holy Scriptures, the Church, the sacraments and opportunities provided by our brothers and sisters in Christ. These solid rocks of the faith keep us from getting sucked into the dark quicksand of despondency.
Thank you, Lord, for drawing us out of the miry bog. Steady us with hope and direction as we step along this faith walk.
But woe to him who is alone when he falls and has not another to lift him up.
--- Ecclesiastes 4:10
I drove to our modest family cabin for the first time
this summer, over the unpaved roads bordered by towering birches and pines. Rounding a bend in the pine-needled
driveway, the familiar wooden structure came into view. Yet I was shocked and dismayed to see a
massive pine tree leaning at a fatal angle, its roots beginning to upend. Over the winter, the lower portion of its
trunk had developed a deep crack and at any moment could split in half, with
one side crashing into the shed containing boats and supplies. The only thing keeping it partially upright was
an ancient tree, which the previous year had been identified for removal.
These friendly “Tree Beards” had neighbored our cabin for the past three generations. I remembered
as a teen hearing the red squirrel’s incessant chatter coming from above and my grandmother sassing back to it. The lower branches of the older tree jutted
out like barren crossbars from the huge wooden mast of its trunk. I pictured a tire swing once hanging from
the lowest branch and recalled lazy childhood summer days sitting jack-knifed
while swaying to-and-fro.
This large, half-dead tree was the only reason the split pine hadn’t completely fallen, demolished the shed and perhaps struck our neighbor’s house. How thankful I was for old-tree's continued presence
there, just when most needed.
Thank
you, Lord, for the important work you have for us to do, even when we feel old
and half-dead!
…Pray therefore the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest.
--- Luke 10:2 (RSV)
Honestly, the only reason I attended the
Evangelization Day was because my thirteen-year-old son wanted to go. Not only was it beastly hot but the idea of
knocking on doors and talking religion, when people are relaxing on a Saturday,
felt uncomfortable -- even scary. I likened
it to one of those Jehovah’s Witnesses who show up at my front door pretty
regularly.
Trevor and I were paired with Mike, a person experienced in door-to-door evangelism.
We were assigned to the odd-numbered houses on Prospect Avenue. How appropriate. I felt odd seeking new prospects for church. Mike was willing to do all of the talking at
each house. Fine with me!
Mike steps up to the door. (I take a few steps back.) Knock, knock. “Hi, I’m Mike, this is Lisa, and Trevor. We are from the church around the corner and are visiting the houses in the neighborhood
today to invite people to come to church.”
From there, we found out rather quickly about a person’s religious
views. Not a single door was slammed in
our faces, most people were somewhat friendly, and some even talked at
length. Maybe we were the only listening
ears they’d found recently, or perhaps they were bored. And then there was Lauren, who took a break
from cleaning her house to answer the door.
She considered herself open to a mixture of all religions and talked
with us while standing on her front stoop, smoking a cigarette. She declined any literature saying she’d just
throw it out and wanted to save trees.
At the last house we met Grace, age 80, whose church had been closed by the local diocese. Despite her expressed anger, she had kept the faith and now attended services elsewhere. We shared friendly
conversation and she handed us each a precious gift – ice-cold water to soothe
our scorched palates.
I cheered inwardly when time was up, partly due to the
emotional stress, partly because it was 92 degrees and partly because my legs
were tired from prolonged standing. Mike
deemed it a fruitful outing, especially considering one conversation with a woman who'd had a heart attack and welcomed a visit from our pastor.
Later in the afternoon came the summary email and I truly
was humbled and amazed. The teams had knocked on a total of 485
doors and made 197 contacts with 25 people marked for “follow-up” visits. One team had spoken with someone who now identified herself as a “pagan.” She’d had a good discussion with the team and,
before they left, tearfully came out onto the porch to join in praying the Lord's Prayer out loud!
It seems the fields of
the town were indeed white unto harvest and although I was a reluctant
laborer, I’m glad to have been a part of the effort.
Lord, thank you for the work of evangelization. Please bring to fruition the seeds that were planted. Amen.
The wind blows wherever it pleases.
--- John 3:8 (RSV)
Yesterday, we went sailing in the Chesapeake Bay. I am returning to sailing after many years, so my
husband patiently explained which line was connected to each sail.
It was a light wind of about five knots, and gaining
momentum was a challenge. Afar off on the horizon appeared a billowing spinnaker sail, with its red, blue and white geometric pattern. I learned that the spinnaker sail is used under
light-wind conditions. The huge size
allows it to balloon out, thus capturing as much of the wind as possible.
It reminded me of something I heard Bishop Donald Hyne, of Madison, Wisconson
say recently. “When you hook the sail of your life to the mighty wind of the Holy
Spirit, the Holy Spirit is going to blow you out into the deep water far from
the safety of shore. And then you’re
gonna hear this gentle but urgent voice say ‘Get out of the boat.’” He continued, “When we surrender to the Holy
Spirit, our life becomes this Holy adventure.”[i]
Lord, help me to open wide
my heart and life to you like a spinnaker sail – able to receive the
movement of Your Holy Spirit.
[i]Sanctifying
Grace/Hope [Transcript, Radio broadcast]. (2021, April 15). Morning Air. Green Bay, Wisconson:
Relevant Radio. https://relevantradio.com/category/podcasts/morning-air/
Although it is Easter-tide, the situations of life sometimes toss us back onto the road of the cross. That's why I appreciate the fourteen Stations of the Cross being displayed on the walls of the Church all year round.
The Ninth Station: Jesus Falls the Third Time.
The Gospels do not specifically say that Jesus fell at all on the way to Calvary. Saints Mark and Luke mention that Simon of Cyrene was seized from the crowd, suggesting he was forced to carry Jesus' cross. Most likely, Jesus was so weak and injured from all the beatings that he kept falling, thus being unable to carry the cross on his own.
In the Christian experience carrying one's cross is likened to our sufferings. Sometimes the sufferings become so heavy, we fall. I especially appreciate the following words:
"My Jesus, even with the help of Simon, You fell a third time... There are times when the crosses You permit in my life are more than I can bear. It is as if all the sufferings of a lifetime are suddenly compressed into the present moment and it is more than I can stand.
"Though it grieves my heart to see You so weak and helpless, it is a comfort to my soul to know that you understand my suffering from Your own experience. Your love for me made You want to experience every kind of pain just so I could have someone to look to for example and courage.
"When I cry out from the depths of my soul, 'This suffering is more than I can bear,' do You whisper, 'Yes, I understand'? When I am discouraged after many falls, do you say in my innermost being, 'Keep going, I know how hard it is to rise'?"
Lord, thank you for your example to us in your human suffering. When it seems like the enemy is winning, thank you for being my light.
Quoted content taken from: The Stations of the Cross | EWTN
He who is slow to anger is better than a warrior, and he who controls his temper is greater than one who captures a city.
-- Proverbs 16:32 (BSB)
IF
by Rudyard Kipling
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream -- and not make dreams your master;
If you can think -- and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings -- nor lose the common touch.
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And -- which is more -- you'll be a Man, my son!
Lord, produce within us the virtue of self-control, by which we will respond to all things with measured wisdom.
Therefore confess your sins to one another, and pray for one another, that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous man has great power in its effects.
--- James 5:16 (RSV)
The beauty of it took me aback. Walking towards the church on the Tuesday of
Holy Week for a “Penance Service,” Those leaving looked happy and lighthearted.
Inside, what I saw both humbled and amazed me. The aisles of the large sanctuary were filled
with lines. Lines for the priests-in-residence,
stationed in their usual confessionals, and lines for thirteen additional
priests who were sitting, spaced throughout the pews.
Serene piano music floated down from the loft. A handout listed the Ten Commandments, each
followed by a thought-provoking question to encourage examination of one’s
conscience. The first: “I am the Lord your God: you shall not have
strange Gods before me,” followed by the question: Have I treated people, events, or things as more important than God?
Muffled conversations filled the sanctuary, each followed
by the priest’s hand raised in blessing with the sign of the cross.
My turn. Through
the mask, my words seemed a jumbled mess, but the priest wasn’t fazed. He spoke pragmatically, indicating acceptance
of certain situations, but not in any way condoning my sins. He reminded me to pray throughout the day,
assigned a simple act of penance and then provided absolution.
Later that evening, while lying in bed, I recited the scripture
he had assigned, and enjoyed the blanket of peace that resulted from the entire
evening.
Lord,
thank you for the humble beauty of verbally confessing one’s sins.
In Loving Memory of T. Patrick Burke, Th.D., Ph.D.
b. March 16, 1934, d. February 23, 2021
Th.D, Ph.D -- Those were the letters after his name.
When I first met Patrick, I was scared of him. Tall and distinguished-looking, he held two doctorates, was a retired professor, had written several books and even had started his own philosophical institute. I felt a loss for words. How could I talk with Patrick when I didn’t begin to have his educational and philosophical prowess? Yet he never came across as arrogant. He always was kind to me.
Our friendship developed slowly. Just a friendly 'hello' after church. Then someone organized a book signing party for him, to recognize his newly published work on social justice. He approached me after church to invite me to the “paahty.”
Patrick was
Australian. His accent only added to his
ethereal presence. Surely… he didn’t
mean… “potty??!” I hesitated, then I
realized what he was saying. Yes, of
course I’d be honored to attend.
My husband and I picked up a bottle of wine. No connoisseur of wine, I’m sure our gift was the epitome of supermarket normal.
But Patrick accepted it graciously, giving no indication that its vintage might be inferior to that of which he was accustomed.
As the years turned over, our conversations became less
stilted. He once shared how disappointed
he was never to have had children, and how it took years to recover from his
wife’s untimely death, that he once was featured in Time Magazine, and how it was the beautiful music that brought him back to the Church.
For some reason as he neared eighty, Patrick fell into
financial trouble. He lost his home, the
institute closed and he moved to a residential care facility run by Little
Sisters of the Poor. But that didn’t
stop him from giving lectures, attending daily mass, and finding happiness in his own
place.
Patrick called me last summer. He sounded happy, telling me how much he had
loved my parents, and encouraging me to call him -- understanding that I had a busy
life. He ended the conversation with these words,
“You always were one of my favorite people.”
And those were the last words he said to me.
Months passed, a couple of seasons. I heard that he’d fallen and hit his head
and was living in a different care facility.
Covid restrictions prohibited visits, and I didn’t get organized enough
to call him. The news of his passing was
a surprise, but not completely, given his age and deteriorating health.
Today was his funeral and I’m reminded of his gift to me in
those last words, “You always were one of my favorite people.” Along the inroads of life and the inevitable
challenges that arise, Patrick’s words offer a warm blanket to
my cold shoulders. He was indeed a Th.D,
Ph.D, six letters that say a lot. But to
me, he was six letters that say even more: friend.
Requiescat in pace, Patrick.
Obituary of Thomas Patrick Burke, Th.D., Ph.D. - The Wynnewood Institute
So he came again to
Cana in Galilee, where he had made the water wine.
--- Genesis 4:46 (RSV)
I didn’t realize that Jesus did two miracles in the town called Cana.
The
first was done at a wedding, where the wine had run out. People felt
more comfortable telling Mary the need rather than going directly to
Jesus. Her response: “Do whatever he tells you.” The result was water being turned into fine wine.
Jesus had become known for that wedding wine phenomenon. Thus when a nobleman,
whose son was dying, needed a miracle, he turned to Jesus. Hearing that Jesus was in the area he went directly to him, begging Jesus to heal his son. Jesus didn’t
even need to be on site. His
response: “Go your way. Your son lives.”
Two needs. Two responses. In both cases, a miracle resulted.
Lord, help me to do whatever you tell me, and
help me to take my needs to you, knowing that you can heal in a moment.
