Gospel of Luke Archives -

Perennials

March 18, 2016March 18, 2016

It’s not much to look at today. But just a week ago, when I bought it for $2.99 at our local grocery, it was adorable. Tiny daffodils in full bloom. Perfect for the middle of the kitchen table.

I’ve been thinking of deadheading it, wondering if it would bloom again? My husband said he didn’t think it would. Not right now. Not in its current state. “But,” he said, “don’t throw it away. Save the bulbs.”

It occurred to me today as I think about those bulbs, hiding dormant for a future bloom, how much this situation is like the parable of the sower.

“A sower went out to sow his seed. And as he sowed, some seed fell on the path and was trampled, and the birds of the sky ate it up. Some seed fell on rocky ground, and when it grew, it withered for lack of moisture. Some seed fell among the thorns, and the thorns grew with it and choked it. And some seed fell on good soil, and when it grew, it produced fruit a hundredfold.”

-Luke 8: 5-8

A hundredfold. Fruit (or daffodil blooms) can reproduce many, many times if planted in the right place and nurtured.

Jesus’s teaching here gives me pause. I do my best to be the good soil. I desperately want to be the place where the seed of the Word falls and is “embrace[d]…with a generous and good heart.” I want to “bear fruit through perseverance” in study, prayer, and a faithful walk with the Lord. (Luke 8:15)

But what about my kids?

How can I help them prepare the soil of their souls for the Word?

Last night in the car, we somehow ended up in a discussion about hearing God’s voice. But I was reassured to hear, yet again, that my kids know it. Even the littlest one, who is just 6, and it was all I could do to keep the wheel steady when he said,

“God talks so quietly. It’s hard to hear Him, deep in my heart.”

The day had come full circle to a verse I’d heard in a lecture that morning.

Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength. These commandments that I give to you today are to be upon your hearts. Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk [or drive] along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. Tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads. Write them on the door frames of your houses and on your gates.

-Deuteronomy 6:4-9

This was a “teachable moment” in which the Lord was calling me to share the Truth with my children. To till the soil of their souls by reinforcing their own observations. To confirm that this voice – God’s voice speaking in their hearts – is the One voice they need to listen to above all others. It is the seed that will bloom for them time and time again throughout their lives, particularly on dark days when the surprise of a flower is a bright spot of hope.

My job is to continue to turn over the earth, to nurture my kids’ faith with His love – Love that was planted in me long ago.

That verse from Deuteronomy commands this of me as a parent, but as I’ve also learned, obedience to God’s commands brings joy that simply doesn’t compare with any earthly happiness.

I want that joy for my kids – more than anything else in the world.

So I’m saving the bulbs, and I’ll carefully plant them again, assured of the promise that God brings life out of dark places, if only we persevere.

Holy Moments – Day 22 – Dawning Light

November 23, 2015November 25, 2015

“Mommy – What does ISIS stand for?”

Her blue eyes peeked out at me from behind her purple bedspread. It was time to turn out the light. Not the time to launch into a discussion like this. And what did she mean “stand for?” I took the literal route.

“ISIS is an acronym. The letters I-S-I-S are short for the longer name of a group calling itself the Islamic State.”

“Some boys on the playground were talking about it and what they did in Paris.”

“Hmm.” My mind reeled. What did she know? I didn’t want her to worry. We work so hard to keep her safe, happy, carefree…

I asked her what she’d heard and it was just vague details about attacks. She’d heard of Islam, so we discussed the fact that there are people in all religions who can become extreme and bend their views into hatred of others who have different faiths. I stressed that this is wrong, that God loves every person, that He created every single one.

“Will they come here?”

“There are people in our government and all over the world working very hard to protect us.”

“We’ll be warned, right? And we can run to our house and lock all the doors. Do we know what they look like?”

“Some of them. But it’s more like we’re watching their emails and telephone calls. Get some sleep, ok? I love you.”

Oh, Lord. I couldn’t tell her the whole truth….What do they look like?

They look like my friend from middle school – Mary – whose mother was Syrian and father was Lebanese. They look like guys I dated in high school and college – Italian. They look like the Greek guy at the deli around the corner from my office building in New York City. And they look like Zaidan – the Lebanese gentleman I worked with for years at a nonprofit civic education group in Washington, DC, where our mission was to encourage young people to participate in the democratic process.

What do they look like? They look like us. And what’s on the outside has nothing to do with it.

My daughter’s questions, posed on the first day of the week, led to 6 days of soul searching, long-bouts of reading articles on Facebook, and a general unease. I wanted to say something about this historical moment. But what?

On Saturday, as my daughter and I were listening to Christian radio and she was singing her little heart out, she gave me more to chew on…

“I want to sing a song for the talent show later this year, but if I choose one of these, I’m afraid everyone will laugh at me or think I’m weird.”

It wasn’t bedtime. It was time to dig deep. I’ll spare you the details of that discussion. But as I tried to bolster her spirit for a lifelong journey of faith, I was also coaching myself. In a time like this, when the world feels akimbo, maybe it’s appropriate to get out a wrench and tighten up the nuts and bolts.

All of the events of the last week have reminded me that choosing to walk through the narrow gate is never easy. It requires a daily commitment, a re-surrendering of my will to God’s will, because for me and for most of us, the natural instinct is to “run to our hous[es] and lock all the doors.” The world is quite frightening, and the Lord’s commands aren’t easy either. If we truly try to follow any one of Jesus Christ’s teachings we quickly find that he was, in every sense, radical.

But to you who hear I say, love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who hurt you, pray for those who mistreat you.” – Luke 6:27-28

ISIS is no exception to this command. Each terrorist deserves God’s mercy as much as we do – which is not at all – and still God offers it, freely. Yet, how often do we hear prayers for our enemies from our altars? How often do we pray for them as we close our eyes and ask for protection?

Every time I publish a blog piece, I expose myself as a believer. I wonder sometimes how much of a risk I’m taking in proclaiming the Bible as Truth. I remember that Christ’s message was not one of perpetual comfort in this life, but of eternal peace in the next.

I tell you, my friends, do not be afraid of those who kill the body but after that can do no more.” – Luke 12:4

If anyone proved the veracity of this statement, it is Jesus himself, for if we do not believe in the truth of the Resurrection – the Son of Man literally brought back to life and walking the earth in his flesh and blood – we are not truly Christians. And the power Christ invoked is the same power promised to those who love Him.

I pray…that you will know what is the surpassing greatness of His power toward us who believe. These are in accordance with the working of the strength of His might which He brought about in Christ, when He raised Him from the dead… – Ephesians 1:18-20

If I could say only one more thing to my daughter, it would be the one thing Jesus says most often: “Don’t be afraid.” And this is not some self-help advice meant to puff up her ego. NO. Why? Because God never meant us to face our fear alone. From the Old Testament to the New, scripture is consistent on this – there is no place we can go to escape God’s loving presence, and He wants us to call on Him. When we admit our need for Him, he is endlessly forgiving of our failures – of our desire be self-sufficient and to ‘go it alone,’ of our judgments and anger toward our enemies, of our hiding from His power, of our foregoing His assistance, and of our acting as if He doesn’t exist. He stands ready at all times, offering us the safety of His eternal love. We need only to surrender to Him again.

Where can I hide from your spirit? From your presence, where can I flee? If I ascend to the heavens, you are there; if I lie down in Sheol, you are there too. If I fly with the wings of dawn and alight beyond the sea, Even there your right hand hold me fast. – Psalm 139: 7-10

I acknowledged my sin to You, And my iniquity I did not hide; I said, I ‘will confess my transgressions to the Lord’; and You forgave the guilt of my sin. – Psalm 32:5

Do not be afraid of them, For I am with you to deliver you, declares the Lord.” – Jeremiah 1:8

As I have told my daughter, sometimes carrying this message of hope will make me unpopular. But I remember these words of Christ as well, “If the world hates you, realize that it hated me first.” (John 15:18). Knowing that He is with me always and experiencing His powerful love has created within me an unshakable joy and peace that is more than enough to get me through the tough moments. See, I can only serve one master, and I learned some time ago that serving myself is a dead end.

Holy Moments – Day 14 – The Path

October 26, 2015

From 2006 to 2007, I went through 9 months of RCIA – the Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults, the education and discernment process by which adults enter the Catholic Church. We met weekly to learn about the faith and the Church, familiarizing ourselves with terminology and concepts that previously seemed foreign. It was a deliberately slow but thorough process, designed to allow for reflection and consideration.

I had been curious about RCIA for years – ever since the 1999 wedding reception of two dear friends, where I was seated next to the officiating priest. He was the first person I’d ever met from Malta. But he really drew me in when he told me he was finishing up his dissertation at Catholic University, focusing on the role of imagination in faith.

In college, I double-majored in French and English, and I loved all things related to art and literature. If you bring up the topic of imagination, I will stick to you like glue. Almost needless to say, this priest and I had a lengthy, meaty conversation. Unfortunately, I don’t remember the other guests at our table.

This gentleman told me about RCIA. But looking back over my life now, I can see that this encounter was like so many others. The Lord had His hand on me, and had arranged this meeting to knock gently on the door of my heart.

On the first night of RCIA, our deacon’s wife led us in an exercise. She said something along these lines:

Close your eyes. Take a deep breath. Imagine you are walking on a quiet path, meandering over gentle green hills. The sun is warm but not glaring. There are light, puffy white clouds in the sky. A breeze blows across your face. You are, in every way, comfortable.

Someone is coming up behind you. You look back. It is a man. You turn to move aside but he does not push past. Instead, he looks you in the eye and smiles a friendly smile. Then, he falls in step with you. How do you feel?

As the script continues, we learn from the description of the man that this is Jesus. As I imagined the scene, I was overcome with a peace I’d never felt before. All my life, I’d seen paintings, sculptures, films – other people’s representations of the risen Christ, but I had never spent a long moment deep enough in thought to visualize Him for myself. It was a powerful experience. And a turning point for me.

I felt just like the two disciples who encounter Christ after his resurrection on the road to Emmaus.

Then they said to each other, “Were not our hearts burning [within us] while he spoke to us on the way and opened the scriptures to us?”

-Luke 24:32

Now, when I pray, I seek His face. I look for that same face that I saw on my walk.

What a day it will be when I can truly see Him.

Day 29 – Write it on Your Heart

November 27, 2014

I got out the hearts today. The wooden hearts. We started writing on these at Thanksgiving a couple years ago, when I hoped it would become an annual tradition. Every person in our home for the holiday writes on one side of the heart what he or she is thankful for this year, and on the other, their name and the date. Over time, we’ll have a record of gratitude that can be arranged in a vase, or tossed in a bowl to be sifted through and remembered.

One of my very best friends gave me this ‘hearts’ idea, and I liked it because it’s similar to writing thank-notes or making gratitude lists. And I like to write thank-you notes. Seriously. Some people find them tedious but I don’t. In fact, I’ve found that the old adage “you can’t hold a positive and negative thought in your head at the same time” is true, because when I’m feeling a bit down or having an “off” day, the best remedy for me is to write a thank-you note to someone, for any good reason I can think of. And if I can’t think of anyone, I can always build on my gratitude list to God, starting right where I am.

I read (and re-read) an amazing book this year called One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp. In it, she takes counting blessings to a whole new level. How? First, she unravels the word eucharisteo, the original Greek word used in the Gospel of Luke to describe Jesus giving thanks at the Last Supper. Eucharisteo means thanksgiving, and within it is the Greek word charis, meaning grace, and its derivative chara, meaning joy. So, there is a correlation between giving thanks to God for the gifts of His grace that we see all around us (even the tiniest things!), and experiencing joy. The miracle is that this works even when we think there is nothing to be thankful for.

This year has been a difficult one for my family. We’ve lost several family members, and we miss them this Thanksgiving. But when we had to say goodbye to each of them, I began my daily prayers with litanies of thanks for all the things I could think of about each person, and it pulled my focus off my sadness, and onto them, where they are now, in God’s light.