Calling All Disciples

 

    The calling of the disciples narrative in the beginning of the fifth chapter of Luke reminds us of the grand plans of our loving Father. Simon (Peter) tells Jesus the situation – of course on his natural human level.

    “We have worked hard all night and caught nothing. “ That’s it, end of story. How telling is this phrase? How many restless nights have we “worked hard” struggling with an issue? Ruminating about a circumstance? Beleaguering a situation? Yet we find ourselves no further from whence we began. Lord, I have caught nothing. Do you not see this?

    Our vision is limited by our earthly fences and fears, the ones we create in our own minds. But Jesus has the divine vision, beyond our understanding. I find it even humorous.. but Lord, you don’t understand – this is the way it is. But then Peter opens a small crack in his façade, ‘But if you say so..” He is willing, even if in a small way to entertain the possibilities. I will reluctantly indulge you in this ridiculous idea of yours.. probably thinking he will prove his own point. And then Jesus does what he has come to do. To widen our lens, expand our vision beyond the small minded “seeing” of our limited faith and belief. How ever so small is the trust we place in him over our own knowing!

    Well Peter thought, my way is not working, I guess I can surrender to your way, your will Lord. And what happens? Abundance. Something from seemingly nothing. Abandonment to the fear of what we don’t know, stepping off the ledge of our own comfort. Surrendering to what we can’t even fathom,  to trust in the will of God. Do not be afraid, Jesus tells his friend. My way is truth, goodness and light.

    But it will appear counterintuitive, perhaps even controversial. It would not make sense in the natural order. Only when we allow the supernatural to unleash its power and providence will we be able to see a glimpse of God’s plan. We are creatures of comfort, but Jesus calls us to be uncomfortable. To trust beyond what we feel is humanly possible. To abandon our own fears to the one who overcame fear for us all.

Lord strengthen my resolve! Let me trust in you with my whole being, without fear but with a trust grounded in your love and fidelity. Let me emerge from the dark night of emptiness and dread into the dawn of your abundant light and love. Without fear, without hesitation, into the deep, leaving everything to follow you.

Grace in Grief

 

Fifteen years.. how is that even possible? Fifteen years have passed dear sister since you left this world. Thoughts of you permeated my morning prayer, and even though it is a holiday today I went to morning mass. We pray the divine mercy chaplet every Monday after mass for priests, especially our current and former pastor.

After the chaplet I lit a candle for you dear sister at the Mary statue. I prayed for your comfort and peace. I don’t really worry too much about your place, I know you are in heaven with Jesus. I prayed for your family, your girls, those of us you left behind. When you were at your last days I prayed to take in your spirit. I prayed to take in the beautiful gifts that you shared so selflessly with others and the church. Your musical talent, your love of teaching and serving. Especially the best pies on earth, one I have yet to master. I know if you were still here you would be still serving in so many ways. So I serve, in your honor and your memory. After I lit your candle I played a song on the piano, Table of Plenty. Music I had borrowed that I was returning. The church was empty of people, but full of the Spirit. I hesitated before leaving.. should I stop in the adoration chapel?

The Spirit led me into the chapel and as soon as my knees hit the pew before the Blessed Sacrament I began weeping. Jesus wept for his friend Lazarus, his friend that had been like a brother to him. Lord you know this pain, this grief. Be with me in mine. I got up a bit embarrassed and apologized to the woman sitting in prayer.

I’m so sorry, I apologized. It’s been fifteen years since I lost my sister. Oh goodness she said, don’t apologize. I understand your pain, I lost my older sister several years ago. What are the chances this day that the person in adoration would have shared this same loss? We spoke for a few minutes, comforted each other and she left me with a prayer. “Be good to yourself.”

How great is our God? He provides for our needs in a way that cannot be matched in earthly ways. Two sisters, sharing the suffering of a loss so deep. My heart was heavy when I entered the chapel, but I left full of light, full of comfort and hope. The love and compassion shared from one person to another. We are truly walking each other home.

I hope dear sister you are proud of me, I hope my meager offerings to family and church will somehow continue your legacy of love and service. Until we meet in heaven. I miss you and I love you forever.

“My bread will ever sustain you
through days of sorrow and woe.
My wine will flow like a sea of gladness
to flood the depths of your soul.”

 Table of Plenty