Hearing The Shepherd's Voice

 "It was winter, and Jesus was in the temple area, walking in Solomon's Colonnade. The Israelites gathered around Him, saying, 'How long will you keep us in suspense?'  If you are the Christ, tell us plainly.'
Jesus answered, 'I did tell you, but you do not believe.  . . You do not believe because you are not my sheep. My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish; no one can snatch them out of my hand. My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all; no one can snatch them out of my Father's hand. I and the Father are one.' ".-- [John 10: 25-30].


In my house growing up, my family was told about Jesus, when we went to church for all those years, before my grandparents died. But my family did not believe. That became very apparent, after my last grandparent passed on, and we quit going to church.

Then, my family's anti- Christian rhetoric came out-- how Christians are the greatest sinners, the weak and the foolish. "Like sheep", my parents said. That is, followers, and NOT leaders and doers.

I look back at my parents' life; and I wonder WHY the clear message of God's Grace and of the loving protection of Jesus, fell on deaf ears?

My mother's grandmother sat in her easy chair and read her Bible daily. When she had made it all the way from Genesis to Revelation, she turned the pages back to the very beginning, and began reading all over again. When my mother came home from school to talk about her day, her grandmother encouraged her with, "Have faith."

My father's mother was Irish Catholic. She brought food to the folks who were starving during the Great Depression. She donated a Christmas gift to each child at the orphanage, every year.  She would never miss an opportunity to press a few dollars into the hand of a person who was struggling.

So, how could my parents have turned away from God?

Jesus answers this Himself: "I did tell you, but you do not believe."

Sometimes, the seeds fall upon rocky ground, or amongst thorns, and they bear no fruit. -[Mark 4: 1-9].

I think that today, in our modern times, we believe in Science and technology, more than we believe in God. So many of us have lost what it means to hear His voice. We read this Scripture in John as no more than metaphor, or even superstition.

HOW CAN we hear Jesus' voice?

When I was growing up, there was no Faith in my family, there was no God -- and therefore, there was no Love. As young as age five, I had to put myself down for naps, and find food. A sibling would hit me; and call me ugly every day. When I asked my family, "Don't you love me?" -- they would mock me for even asking.

As a young girl-- as girls often do-- I dreamed of whom I would marry. By the time I was a teen, I had it all figured out. He would have sandy hair, and wear tortoise rim glasses. His voice would be kind. He would be big-hearted and laugh easily. I imagined him wearing a Harris tweed jacket. I even had this "premonition" that his name would be Paul.

About a month before I met my future husband, I told my mother that I was not going to marry just anyone. We would have to be soul mates. My mother wept. She told me, "You are waiting for the impossible."

A month later, I met my future husband. He had sandy hair. His voice was kind. He laughed at my silly jokes. He was the most generous guy I had ever met. I said to him, "I thought you would be wearing tortoise rim glasses." He said,  "I was thinking of getting them, the next time I order new glasses."  I said, "I thought you would be wearing a Harris tweed jacket." He said, "I have one hanging in my closet, I didn't wear it today."

THEN I said, "I thought your name would be Paul." He looked at me strangely, then said, "Paul is my  Saint's name." We were speechless.

As we talked further, I had this odd feeling that I had known this man all my life -- and yet, we had just met!

 I felt confused.  I had shut down as a child in my family home. I had trained myself to show no emotion, I had largely stopped eating, I stayed awake for hours at night until I was sure everyone was asleep, I had taken a vow of silence. When I was 18, I was leaving an escape kit at a girlfriend's house, in case I had to leave home suddenly. I truly WAS lost. A baby lamb without a friend in the world.

I had no idea at the time that God sends people into our lives to model and embody His Love. What was this feeling that I had around this kind, gentle, good man, who was my future husband?--- Except Love. . .

God was calling me to a safer, much more loving and loved place. THIS was God's voice. He was showing me : THIS is Love. THAT is not. God was calling me into His realm of Love and Compassion. I was lost, and God was bringing me to Him, through Love.

Years later, I spoke to my church pastor. He explained to me that God DOES rescue his lost lambs. Often, God does this by sending another human being to love, as He does.

Maybe we don't pray often enough. Or spend time in Christian community. I wonder how often we receive God's insistent voice, but we don't hear Him? How often do we discount what we hear as coincidence? Or, futile longings for something Mighty and Eternal, that we fear does not even exist?

To hear the voice of the Good Shepherd -- of Jesus AND the Father, (since Jesus and the Father are One) -- seek the Love.

IF God calls you closer to Him, it is never for evil, always for the good. He wants us to pray, to talk to Him, to ask for guidance. IF He calls you, answer Him and draw nearer. The more we talk to Him, the more readily He answers.

IF God sends someone who gives unconditional Love-- patience, good humor, affection, hope, generosity, gentleness, peace, and zeal for all that is good-- this is God's Love, calling to you, through the medium of a fellow human being. Love that person back.

God is Love. Love is God. Love heals. God heals.

[Related Postings: "The Lost Shepherd", April 25, 2015; "The Good Pastor", July 14, 2012; "Where is My Flock?", April 29, 2012; "His Flock", May 16, 2011.]


(c) Spiritual Devotional 2016. All Rights Reserved.

Feed Me

" Together were Simon Peter, Thomas called Didymas, Nathanael from Cana in Galilee, Zebedee's sons and two other of His disciples.
Simon Peter said to them, 'I am going fishing.'  They said to him, 'We also will come with you.'  So they went and got into the boat, but that night, they caught nothing.  When it was already dawn, Jesus was standing on the shore; but the disciples did not realize that it was Jesus.  Jesus said to them, 'Children, have you caught anything to eat?'
They answered Him, 'No.'
So He said to them, 'Cast the net over the right side of the boat and you will find something.'
So they cast it, and were not able to pull it in because of the number of fish.
So the disciple whom Jesus loved said to Peter, 'It is the Lord.'
When they climbed out on shore, they saw a charcoal fire with fish on it and bread. Jesus said to them, 'Bring some fish you just caught.'
So Simon Peter went over and dragged the net ashore full of one hundred fifty-three large fish. Even though there were so many, the net was not torn.
Jesus said to Simon Peter, 'Do you love me more than these?'
Simon Peter answered Him, 'Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.'
Jesus said to him, 'Feed my lambs.'
He then said to Simon Peter a second time, 'Simon, son of John, do you love me?'
Simon Peter answered Him, 'Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.'
Jesus said to him, 'Tend my sheep.'
Jesus said to him the third time, 'Simon, son of John, do you love me?'
and he said to Him, 'Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.'
Jesus said to him, 'Feed my sheep.' " --[John 21:1-19.

My great grandfather was the captain of a fishing vessel, in the coldest waters of North America.  He navigated the sailing schooner by sight of the constellations, setting forth as soon as the ice melted in the spring. He and his crew did not return until mid-December when the ice was forming on the windows of his family's home.

He and his men ate fish on board, and hard biscuits called "tack'. He paid his men in fish. He paid his bills in fish. Fish were their livelihood. Fish WERE life.

He and his fishermen faced many days of rough weather, sometimes catching no fish at all.  Sometimes, they came back to port with few fish. Sometimes, they came back to port, missing a few men.

The fishermen developed many superstitions to "keep them safe" -- never sailing on a Friday, and certainly not a Friday the 13th, since that is the day Jesus was crucified. Never even saying the numeral 13, but saying "12+1". Naming their vessel after a woman, said to be good luck. Never christening the vessel with a name of thirteen letters.

Because of my family history, I can feel in my heart the danger and the risk that these men were feeling as sailors and fishermen.

Strikingly, in this Scripture, though, the fishermen/disciples come to rely, not on superstitions, nor on only themselves, but on Jesus. Not only is there fish waiting for them already cooked on shore, but Jesus has ensured that their net is filled to overflowing.

In so many parables in the Bible, Jesus feeds His beloved people: I think of the multiplication of loaves to feed five thousand; the water turned into wine at Cana; the parable of the great dinner for the poor and for those enslaved and crippled, all gathered in to the feast.

This scene of Jesus cooking His disciples the fish and bread reminds me of the Greatest Meal of All, the Last Supper, and our Eucharist even today.

This feeding of US is not a "one-way street", however. Jesus says, "If you love me, feed my lambs."

You know that I came from a household that was rich in provisions, but poor in spirit. I was sometimes not fed and had to go out finding food for myself. No one ever hugged me or said, "I love you" -- and no one showed it either.  I received black eyes, I was told, "Stop crying, you are not hurt."

But, even so-- or maybe because of this-- I remember every kindness shown to me:

The frail and poor widow in my neighborhood who would give me bread and butter, and a glass of milk for a snack. She never hesitated to give me another slice of bread from her own pantry, if she noticed me ravenously eating the first one.

The little girl's mom who let me swim in their home pool, then gave me hot chicken soup to warm up.

The neighbor who gave me a ride from school, when I was walking home alone in the pouring rain.

The Jewish teacher who made a special request that I help her decorate the classroom Christmas tree after school. Then, she let me pick a glittering trinket out of her prize box. I felt so special to be chosen that day!

The entire classroom of students who clapped for me, after I read a poem -- when at that time, I had largely stopped speaking.

The librarian who told me that I had a beautiful smile-- when I was called ugly every day.

Jesus feeds us in SO many ways-- answering our prayers for health;  drawing near to us for spiritual comfort; feeding our spirit in the Eucharist so that we may enjoy another week of His Peace in our hearts.

I decided not to go "back to Galilee"-- in other words, I decided not to regress and wallow in the fruitless harvest of my own family.

If Jesus feeds us in so many miraculous ways, the very LEAST we can do is to feed others. . .

I do not just mean literally donating to the local food pantry or sharing our bounty of food with the lonely widow.

I also mean feeding others' souls with kindness, joy and love.

Sometimes, I think that we are such fierce individualists, that we forget what it is to be connected in a personal way.  We forget that we need each other AND we need Jesus. Jesus reminds us in this Scripture that we belong to Him AND to each other.

We say, "How are you?" -- but we don't necessarily want to hear the answer.  We no longer place such vital importance on sharing a meal or breaking bread together. We become estranged from family--- sometimes, we even forget why? We call someone "friend", but we have not been in the same room for over thirty years.

Today, I "feed" everyone: hugging members of my church; dropping off flowers or produce at a neighbor's house, just because; giving a wonderful friend the gift that I had at first bought for myself; not just sharing a recipe with a neighbor, but buying her the ingredients; picking one friend out of my contacts list each day and sending her a note of encouragement; making my husband his favorite meal, or fixing his coffee just right; thanking the cook behind the counter who prepared my meal.

When we DO lovingly feed each other, we honor Jesus. We love each other, as He loved us.  We love our neighbors, as ourselves. We understand that Love is the greatest command of all.

When we nurture others, we recognize the Christ in everyone. "Feed my lambs".

[Related postings: "Fishing Manual", Jan. 24, 2014; "The Kindness of Strangers", July 5, 2013; "Do You Love Me?", April 4, 2013.].

(c) Spiritual Devotional  2016. All Rights Reserved.

Fear

"On the evening of that first day of the week, when the doors were locked, where the disciples were, for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood in their midst, and said to them 'Peace be with you.'  When He had said this, He showed them His hands and His side. The disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord.  Jesus said to them again, 'Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.'  And when He had said this, He breathed on them and said to them, 'Receive the Holy Spirit.' --[John 20: 19-31].


FEAR:    Feelings of trauma and terror can make us anxious, paralyzed. We can exhibit so much emotion, it can come out as anger. Or, we may simply shut down.

Coming from a highly dysfunctional and even abusive family, I have lived in fear most of my life. To "make the abuse go away" I tried, first, not showing emotion, then not feeling emotion, not coming out of my room, wearing dark colors so I could become less visible, eating less so I did not grow too big, keeping watch at night, and finally, ceasing to speak.

I had built a "wall" around myself, as real to me as the doors of the upstairs room were to the disciples.  My mantra became, 'No one touches me. And, I touch no one.'

This Scripture actually comforts me, in a way; because even the disciples-- who had lived with Jesus, who had walked with Him, eaten with Him, prayed with Him, witnessed His triumphant march into Jerusalem and His death on the cross--- reacted in the end with fear. They ultimately locked themselves into a room in the immediate aftermath of the Crucifixion.

How utterly human it is to react in fear. We freeze. We hide. We hope that it all just goes away.

It has been a long walk back for me, into humanity again. Years ago, I started eating more. I mean, how can I stay strong enough to fight my demons, if I am too famished to get through the day?

I had to learn that I no longer have to wait until everyone else in the house is asleep, to feel safe enough to fall asleep myself.

I had to learn to speak again. I had spent my childhood in my room, reading library books, writing poetry, singing along to music. I knew HOW to speak, but I was afraid to . . .

After I finished my education, though, I had to find employment.  I could leave my family and strike out on my own. The first few times I had to answer the phone at work, I was terrified. But I made myself do it, and gradually it all became easier.

These were the basic building blocks of life-- eating, sleeping, speaking, working.

Then, I met my husband. Feelings started to come back. It was sort of a roller coaster. At first, I was confused. Then, I rightly recognized it for what it all was -- It was Love! God comes in the form of Love, you know. The rest follows.

But The Wall essentially remained. It did not take much to happen in life, for me to go back in my "cave" again. Years later, I went to my pastor at the time and told him, "I have built a Wall around myself. I want to come out, but I am terrified to tear it down. HOW do I do it?" He asked me, 'Where are you now with this?' I said, 'I am in the cave and the light is shining in from the outside. But, I cannot come out.'

He thought for a moment and said, "You tear it down, the same way you built it. Remove the Wall, one brick and one stone at a time."

This seemed like sound, although metaphorical, advice. The process itself, however, is not as easy as it sounds.

The resounding message that I get from this Scripture is that it does you no good to hide. Jesus knows exactly where you are! And He will come and find you. He will stand in your midst. His urgent call will not cease.

I had spent so many years in the darkness of my cave, looking out at the bright light. I longed to escape my self-imposed prison, but  . . . the world outside seemed so loud, so jarring, unsafe, often violent and disturbing. This is how the disciples must have felt! Their fears were not irrational, given the traumatic events that they had just experienced.

What I eventually conclude is that we may feel fear, but in order to become fully human, we must overcome the fear.

Jesus sent the disciples out of that darkened room. He was depending upon them to go about preaching and proclaiming the Good News.

He did not send them out alone, however. They went together. And Jesus was with them, by the power of the Holy Spirit. Jesus breathed the Spirit upon them. He gave them Peace.

The apostles eventually dared to go to places even near Jerusalem, where their fear was greatest, to openly heal great crowds of the sick; even though the authorities had warned them with violence if they persisted. [After Pentecost].

I am not going to say that my Wall is completely down. I still struggle daily with some of the very real defenses that I put up to protect myself. But, I am no longer inside a cave, looking out, fearing to venture forth.

I have had a tremendous number of stones to roll away. It is exhausting, daunting, tough work. Sometimes, I achieve triumphs. Sometimes, I regress, then I surge forward again.

What it comes down to is this -- I believe that we all have some walls, the fears and obstacles that keep us locked away. The question becomes -- How bold can I be for my God? How bold will YOU be for YOUR GOD?

Jesus knows His wounds. He knows YOUR wounds. Despite this, He proclaims, "Peace be with you!" He calls out of exile. Into the Light.


 [Related Postings: "Roll Away the Stone, April 17, 2014; "Doubt", May 1, 2011; "The Benefit of Doubt", April 29, 2014; "Peace Be With You", April 19, 2015; "The Truth of His Wounds" April 13, 2012; "Healed By His Wounds", May 15, 2014; "His Divine Mercy", April 7, 2013.]


(c) Spiritual Devotional 2016. All Rights Reserved.

Dawn's Light

"Christ, who is only sinless, reconciles sinners to the Father. Death and Life have contended in that combat stupendous:
The Prince of Life, who died, reigns immortal. Speak, Mary, declaring what you saw, wayfaring.
'The tomb of Christ, who is living, the glory of Jesus' resurrection; bright angels attesting, the shroud and napkin resting.
Yes, Christ is my hope arisen;
to Galilee He goes before you.'
 Christ indeed from death is risen, our new life obtaining.
Have mercy, Victor King, ever reigning!" -- [Victimae Paschali Laudes].


There is absolutely nothing like Easter morning. Even Christmas morning does not compare. Even with all those sparkling gifts under the Christmas tree, it does not compare.

For on Easter, we receive the greatest gift of all, the gift of Jesus' sacrifice for us. A gift that no money or worldly wealth can buy.

When I was a young adult, in my early twenties and away at university, I remember once staying up all night. I did not do this on purpose. Long after the party was over, the drinks and food consumed, a small group of us sat closely together and talked for hours.

Back in the day, we used to call this a "bull session." " A rap session". "Consciousness raising".

We talked about world peace, pollution, women's issues (then called "women's liberation"), civil rights, the utility of the political system or lack thereof.  [Today, kids may stay up all night, but it seems that they spend the time on electronic devices, in what passes for social interaction . . . ]

I am sure that we did not solve all the world's problems that night. We even argued somewhat over what was "right".

Suddenly, someone noticed that it was SO late, that it was "early." The group broke up.

By the time I got back to my apartment parking lot, daylight was beginning to break. I glanced over at the horizon, and saw a pale yellow stripe of light, where the horizon met the earth. It was the dawn!

I could not just pull out my apartment keys and run inside. I was spellbound. I watched the sun rise. I was in awe. We had made it through the night, and all the world's problems were still there. But the dawning light gave me such a thrilling sense of hope. That everything was possible.

In a secular sense, yes, the dawn is amazing.

But, for me as a Christian, Easter is that metaphysical Dawn-- yes -- but ten times or a hundred times more miraculous.

Easter means that God always has the last word.

Easter means that the darkness cannot win. It is like that moment in Genesis when God said, "Let there be Light", and the Light drove away the darkness and the void and the formlessness that was the world before.  I get a chill every time I read that!

"For God, who said, 'Let light shine out of darkness,' made His light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of God's glory displayed in the face of Christ." --[ 2 Corinthians 4:6].

Easter means that God, after sending priests and judges and prophets to draw His people closer to Him, finally sent His only Son to teach us about His Love and Mercy. And when the world rejected His Son, Jesus' sacrifice ultimately drew us together into one Christian family.

Easter is the promise that no matter how hard is our road in life, God and Jesus are always there with us.

I imagine that for a secular person, the dawn is like living through a long night with no electric power, and experiencing a sense of relief when the lights come back on.

But, for a Christian, the Dawn is the banishment of darkness, when we experience the tender and awe-struck sense of Hope. Easter is "The Prince of Life, who died, reigning immortal."

The Dawn-- Jesus' Resurrection-- is nothing short of a miracle.

[Related Postings:  "Transforming Hope", Mar. 3, 2105; "Roll Away The Stone", April 17, 2014;  "His Pierced Heart", April 14, 2014; "Easter Redemption", April 7, 2012.]

(c) Spiritual Devotional 2016. All Rights Reserved.

Crucifixion Redux

 " All who see me scoff at me; they mock me with parted lips, they wag their heads; 'He relied on the Lord; let Him deliver Him, let Him rescue Him if He loves Him.' Indeed, many dogs surround me, a pack of evil doers closes in upon me; they have pierced my hands and feet; I can count all my bones. They divide my garments among them, and for my vesture, they cast lots. But You, O Lord, be not far from me; O my help, hasten aid to me." -- [Psalm 22].


Growing up in a non-believing family, these "wags" were my family members. They mocked Christians for being helpless, worthless people who have no innate abilities to do anything without God, pitiful children who are inept and weak. But, also hypocrites, who were "holier than thou", the greatest sinners who were nevertheless claiming to be God's Chosen.

Somehow, even as a child, I knew that these were all lies. Each time a family member called wealth "The Almighty Dollar". Each time a family member worshipped Human Achievement, forgetting the role of God in all things. Each time a family member claimed that he was superior to the poor, to people of color, immigrants, the lost and forsaken. Each time a family member said, 'If they believe so much in God, let God rescue those people who think God is so powerful'. Each time a family member uttered "D@&N", and I knew, just knew that he was cursing God. Each time that these happened, I shrank away, winced and sucked my breath in.

I was always called "too sensitive".  They shook their heads. They were scoffing at me. That bewildered me.  A Wise Woman once asked me how I knew, as a child, that my family was so wrong? I stammered and said to her, 'A child does not want Hate. All she wants is Love.'

We think that we are so modern and so very evolved today. We think, 'The Crucifixion could not happen again today.' We think that we have come so far beyond that.

But, when persecute and punish Christians, we are doing the very same to Jesus! And so, my feelings of shock and dismay at how my family spoke -- that was my Spirit, if you will, protesting against their mockery.

The Catechism of the Catholic Church says, "Sinners were the authors and the ministers of all the sufferings that the divine Redeemer endured. Since our sins made the Lord Christ suffer the torment of the cross, those who plunge themselves into disorders and crimes crucify the Son of God anew in their hearts (for He is in them) and [they] hold Him up to contempt."

Each act and attitude of Sin makes a mockery of Jesus' Crucifixion. Each Sin crucifies Jesus anew.

In Jesus' times, the Romans hung Christians from crosses, and left them there until only their bones remained. So many Christians were crucified, the Romans ran out of crosses. Then, the Christians were nailed to the city walls. Christians were wrapped in animal skins and thrown to wild dogs. They were also burned at the stake; their charred bodies utilized as nighttime torches.

IF these descriptions of Christian persecution do not shock us to our very souls, they should. . . .

We believe we are so much better today. . . But we must today confront the ugly beheadings and caged drownings and torchings, of those who dare to call themselves Christian.

We may argue that these persecutions are still fairly rare around the globe.

But what passes today for "ordinary politics" spews so much harsh venom, that is antithetical to all Christian belief --- vehement anti-immigrant rhetoric; racism; mysogny (hatred of women); unjust war; torture; unfaithful marriages; greedy materialism; rejection of the poor and ill and hungry; abuse of children; killing of the unborn; corruption; bribery; labor as harsh as slavery. These are touted as worthwhile political policies.

 Anti Immigration policies are touted as Homeland Security.
Racism is cast as "Let them find a way to empower themselves, but not in my town."
Mysogny is cast as "just joking".
War is praised as "Might makes Right."
Unfaithful marriage is praised as an "open marriage."
Materialism is exalted as "the virtues of unbridled capitalism."
Rejection of the poor is explained as "meritocracy".
Abortion is called "pro-choice".
Corruption is called " just taking what I deserve."
Labor as harsh as slavery is called "moving production off-shore."

With each of these, as we destroy Jesus' message, we crucify Him all over again.

We call Palm Sunday, "The Passion", from the Latin patior, or "suffering".  Jesus suffered FOR us, so that we would finally understand the true price of our Sin.

If we sin cavalierly, as if might makes right, as if nothing matters as long as we can get away with it -- THEN, Palm Sunday is an empty spring ritual. And, Easter is about the fairy tale world of bunnies and candy baskets. And then tragically, Jesus would have died for nothing.

(c) Spiritual Devotional 2106. All Rights Reserved.

Throwing the Stone

" Early in the morning, Jesus arrived again in the temple area. . . Then the scribes and the Pharisees brought a woman who had been caught in adultery and made her stand in the middle. They said to him, 'Teacher, this woman was caught in the very act of committing adultery. Now in the last, Moses commanded us to stone such women. So what do you say?'
They said this to test Him, so they could have some charge to bring against Him. . .
When they continued asking Him, He straightened up and said to them, 'Let the first among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.'
And in response, they went away one by one, beginning with the elders. . .
So, He was left alone with the woman before Him.
Jesus said to her, 'Woman, where are they?' Has no one condemned you?'
She replied, 'No one, sir.'
Then, Jesus said, 'Neither do I condemn you. Go, and from now on, sin no more.' " --[John 8:1-11].


In this age of the Internet and social media, no one can never outlive the gossip and the harsh judgment for every action, big sin or little, that we have committed.

Must a person be endlessly flogged, for the rest of his life? Do we not believe that a person can ever offer his deep apologies, receive his due consequences, and then, change for the better?

Have you ever thought that most news content, and much social media content, is all about "throwing
the stone"? Without such harsh scrutinies and endless judgment, the airwaves would go largely silent.


Growing up, I was the innocent scapegoat, in a family with an ugly and cruel dynamic. Whatever toxic dysfunctions went on, they were taken out against me, a tiny innocent girl.

You would think that I would turn toxic myself, and hate my family, and by extension, everyone in my town -- or why not, in the whole world?!!

No. My experience has given me a huge heart of compassion and mercy. Sometimes, I think that if the worst sinners and abusers against you are your family, then you are meant to learn that there is NO ONE whom you cannot forgive.

I have found that when I do indulge in a little judgment and gossip, I am often totally wrong about that person:

The loving mom who abruptly skipped town, leaving her husband and kids behind? Bad marriage, people said. Nope, she was desperately seeking treatment for her advancing cancer.

The meandering, agonizingly slow driver in front of me? An "idiot driver"?  Nope, she was lost.

That boss who barely said hello in the elevator? Arrogant snob? Nope. He was coming down with the flu, and had to go home as soon as he had arrived.

Then, what about people who are not unfairly misjudged, but do real wrong?

That diner in a restaurant, yelling at the waiter about how there was to be no cheese in her dish, and the rice should come WITH the meal but on the side? What if you found out that she had a serious eating disorder, the result of a traumatic childhood? She was dysfunctionally attempting to control everything in her environment, including the food, the cook and the waiter.

The type of women who become promiscuous and who, resultingly, undergo several abortions? Condemned forever for serious sins? No, often, these are women who had been seriously abused as a child. The hurt in their soul becomes even more searing after these sins, and they suffer for the rest of their days.

Who among us wants to go down that slippery slope of who is guilty, and how guilty are they?

When it comes to my own family and all their awful cruelties, I do not want to be the judge of what they have done and what their consequences ought to be. It is all too big for me. God is big enough to handle it. I am not. Perseverating on these issues of judgment makes me feel --
oh so much worse.  Standing in judgment forces me to go over and over in my mind the harsh events of the past. I am haunting myself, instead of healing.

I do  NOT pray that God rains His merciless harshness down upon them. No, I pray continually that God does NOT send them to that dark place, where there is a burning fire that is never quenched.

The thought of them in eterernal damnation does not comfort me.

I let go, and I let God judge. By that Mercy, it is I who am healed.

[Related Posting: "Casting the First Stone", March 1`8, 2013.]

(C) Spiritual Devotional 2016. All Rights Reserved.

To Forgive is Divine

" Jesus told this parable: 'A man had two sons, and the younger son said to his father, 'Father, give me the share of your estate that should come to me.'  So, the father divided the property between them. After a few days, the son collected all his belongings and set off to a distant country, where he squandered his inheritance on a life of dissipation. When he had freely spent everything, a severe famine struck that country, and he found himself in dire need.
Coming to his senses, he thought, 'How many of my father's hired workers have more than enough food to eat, but here I am, dying from hunger. I shall get up and got to my father and I shall say to him, 'I no longer deserve to be called your son; treat me as you would one of your hired workers.' So he got up and went back to his father.'
While he was still a long way off, his father caught sight of him, and was filled with compassion. He ran to his son and embraced him and kissed him. His father ordered his servants, 'Quickly bring the finest robe and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. Take the fattened calf and slaughter it. Then, let us celebrate with a feast, because this son of mine was dead, and has come to life again; he was lost and has been found.'  " -- [Luke 15: 1-3, 11-32.]


This parable is one of the most enduring stories in Scripture. It is also one of the hardest to comprehend. Who among us would not be tempted to argue on the side of the obedient son, who was bewildered and angry over receiving absolutely nothing for all his years of loyalty?

And yet, when it is we who errs egregiously, we are the first ones to long for Mercy.

This story reminds me of a woman I used to work with.  She had a sour disposition and would think nothing of telling others off, for the most minor offenses.

At least once a week, she would send out angry written diatribes to everyone in the office, MEMO: "To All" -- even if most of the co-workers on her list had nothing to do with her complaint.

She became somewhat of a joke. "Oh, here is one of her Telegrams of Complaint", the office wags would say. They would give dramatic readings of her letters, then laugh uproariously -- all behind her back, of course.

For a time, I would laugh along with the rest of the crew. Obviously, she was being hateful and ridiculous. Who could listen to anything she had to say? She had lost all credibility. Why even say hello to her?

But, God had other ideas. You see, as I entered the office each day, I was forced to walk past her desk, to reach my desk. It would be especially cruel for me to not even say hello.

So each morning, even though I really did not feel like it, I wished her a good morning. After weeks of this, I would sometimes add a comment like, 'I hope you didn't get caught in the rain on the way to work today." Then, I would smile at her.

 I think I was being nice, only because I did not want to her caught in her crossfire.  It seemed a better strategy for me to be polite, but keep moving.

One day, she stopped me, as I walked by on the way to my desk. She wasn't glowering as usual. In fact, she was smiling broadly at me. She said, "You always do your own work and never overload me with things you can do yourself. Thank you."

I thought, Is THAT what this was about?

She continued-- "You are the only one who is nice to me all the time."  Then, she looked at me straight up, and said, "You see, I grew up in a tough neighborhood.  I HAVE to put on this tough face, because if  I hadn't, I never would have survived.' "

Suddenly, I saw her as a vulnerable, real human being, with fears and feelings and needs. She was no longer the ogre that everyone else assumed that she was.

What she said next floored me. She told me that she was studying to be a pastoral minister in her church. She said, if I had any concerns or troubles, she would be happy to pray for me. . .

Wow! Just wow!

I realized that I was learning to forgive.  Everyone has a story. The story does not excuse the behavior, but it explains a lot. We all tend to get lost on our way to a better place.

Learning how to forgive and to show kindness paves the way for even more forgiveness and kindness. Mercy begets Mercy. Love multiplies.

To this day, I believe that this experience enabled me, years later, to take my mother back into my life, despite her years of cruelty to me. She became frail, thin, and diminished, after my father had died suddenly one morning. Not only was she no longer a threat to me, it would have been merciless of me, if I had "kicked her down the road" at the lowest point in her life.

She needed me. And I needed to show her the unconditional Love that she so desperately needed, then. She had been decimated by her loss. I needed to offer her Life again.

What if I had NOT taken her back? Truly, I think that she would not have lived as long as she did, after my father died.  And, as my mother lived out the rest of her days, I gained a mother I had never had.

My mother thanked me every day for my kindness. She could not believe how I took her back and nurtured her, unconditionally. To her, it was a miracle. Maybe it was. . .

Forgiveness is Life-- renewed. Forgiveness is Love-- reignited.

[Related Postings: "Casting the First Stone", March 18, 2013; "The Prodigal Son", March 10, 2013; "The Prodigal Daughter", September 15, 2013.]

(c) Spiritual Devotional 2016.