We Are Easter People

 

On Good Friday, I the shared the following story. An art therapist presented a seminar on art therapy helping veterans coping with PTSD. She concluded her presentation by sharing the following poem and asked the participants to reflect on the poem and think how they wanted to be remembered at the end of their life.

 

The Dash Poem by Linda Ellis

I read of a man who stood to speak at the funeral of a friend.
He referred to the dates on the tombstone from the beginning to the end.

He noted first came the date of the birth and spoke the following date with tears. But he said what mattered most of all was the dash between the years.

For that dash represents all the time that they spent life on Earth.
And now only those who loved them know what that little line is worth.

For it matters not how much we own, the cars, the house, the cash.
What matters is how we live and love, and how we spend our dash.

So, think about this long and hard. Are there things you’d like to change?
For you never know how much time is left that can still be rearranged.

If we could just slow down enough to consider what’s true and real,
and always try to understand the way other people feel.

Be less quick to anger and show appreciation more,
and love the people in our lives like we’ve never loved before.

If we treat each other with respect and more often wear a smile,
remembering that this special dash might only last a little while.

So, when your eulogy is being read with your life’s actions to rehash,
would you be proud of the things they say about how you spent your dash?

I then shared stories about how I have spent my dash in my 49 years of ministry.

I shared some of my dashes on Good Friday and one I want to share with you this Easter is the following story,,,

Retirement for a priest is a myth, this Easter I travelled to Las Vegas to help Fr. Erick at Divine Mercy Parish for Holy Week services. I am meeting old friends, make new friends  and spending time talking and listening to God. I serve as the “unofficial” vocation director to Bishop Mack mentoring men who are discerning a vocation seeking to be deacons or priests. A memorable and joyful dash last year was celebrating the ordination of Fr. Erick, Divine Mercy’s pastor, with whom I am grateful to be his brother priest and good friend.

On this Easter day, I want to share another story and it begins with the  following online message:

"Used tombstone for sale." That's what the advertisement said on the Facebook page. "Used tombstone for sale." A real bargain for someone named Diego. For information, call. It seems obvious to me that Diego must have been a Christian because who else wouldn't need a tombstone? Tombstones indicate the end. You've invested yourself in life and now it's over. But the church simply isn't tombstone territory. We are Easter people, and Easter people believe death is not the end. Now the gospels were created by four different writers and different places, but they all agree on the same basic things. There's no dispute. When? Early in the morning on a Sunday. Who? Women go to the tomb. What? The stone is gone. How? Angels or there's some kind of Supernatural encounter. They discover the tomb is empty. The result? Fear and confusion. Fact? Jesus isn't there. All four gospels share these same basic seven things. It's pretty remarkable, don't you think? Four documents, nearly 2,000 years old, all with the same basic eyewitness testimony. That's strong. And that right there is the bedrock foundation of the Christian faith. We are Easter people. That means our lives are filled with holy moments. Easter people know that faith conquers fear. 

 

Easter people know where they're going. We know where we're going. I remember, as one man told me, "God's not in the business of granting wishes. He's in the business of raising the dead, not all of whom are willing." Easter means we know where we're going, as that man says. Suppose an unborn infant in the womb is able to speak and think. Suppose someone says to her, soon you must leave this place to be born. You're going to enter a different realm." The infant might protest and say, "Nah, I like it here. I'm fed. It's warm. I feel loved. I don't want to leave this place to be born." But nature takes its course and the baby is born. After she endures a slap on the bottom and good cry, she looks up into a loving face, and she's cuddled into loving arms. And soon she discovers that she can get anything she wants if she just coos or cries. 

 

So the infant says to herself, "This is nicer than I thought it would be." Childhood passes. She becomes a teenager, then an adult, and then she grows old. Her bodily parts begin to ache and to wear out. And one day, the thought of death begins to worry her and she says to herself, "I like this place. I don't want to leave. Death scares me." 

 

Nature, again, takes its course and she dies. What happens then? Jesus promises that his children will be purified and born once more. She will look into a face more beautiful than her mother's. Loving eyes look down on her and beneath her are everlasting arms. She will be born again into a Heavenly realm where there is no pain. There is no death. There is no sin. She will be home at last. In other words, we don't need tombstones. We are Easter people.

 

Lord, I pray for all my Sonshine Friends that listening to God they hear deep in their hearts that everything is fine, no worries. We are children of God who don’t need tombstones, for we are Easter people.

 

 

 

How To Do Holy Week

 

I like to encourage you and challenge you this Holy Week to identify the most dominant question in your life right now. What question about you and your future is preoccupying your heart? It might be, Should I marry him? It may be, Should I retire? It might be, What should I study in college? It may be, How do I improve my marriage? How do I deal with the health challenge I'm facing? How do I recover from the trauma with the death of my spouse? How do I cope with the betrayal of a close friend? How do I become a better parent? How do I get my personal finances under control? Or how do I center my life spiritually? It could be a million different things. But it is only one question for you right now. What is the dominant question in your heart at this time in your life? You may know immediately what that question is. You may need to think about it. Either way, take some time today to identify that question, write it down, and place this question before God each day this week. Just keep placing this question before God.

Each time you go to church this week, in your heart and mind, place this question on the altar and listen deep in your heart for the answer God brings you. If you have trouble identifying the question, consider this. If you could have lunch with God and ask him one question about what comes next in your life, what would that question be? What would you ask him? This is just one of the many ways this Holy Week experience can be deeply personal and anything but routine.

I've had a theory that I would like your help testing this week. The theory is this: Everything that happens in your life, the big things and the small things, can be found in these eight days of Jesus' experience. And that these eight days that make up Holy Week have something to say about every human experience. Jesus' triumphal entry into Jerusalem today has something to say about the successes and victories of your life. Whatever you're angry about, when Jesus cleanses the temple tomorrow, there is a lesson there. On Tuesday, when the woman anoints Jesus with the perfumed oil, we find every expression of gratitude and appreciation we have ever given or received.

On Wednesday, as Judas plots his betrayal, we find all our broken friendships and our own encounters with betrayal. The epic loneliness of Jesus in the garden Thursday speaks to our own loneliness, past or present. On Friday, we enter deep into the mystery of the suffering of our lives and in the world. On Saturday, when the world goes dark with Jesus dead in the tomb, we come face-to-face with emptiness. And on Sunday, the resurrection brings with it hope, new life, and celebration.

This week, take some time to sit down in a quiet place and just talk to Jesus as you would talk with a friend over coffee. The saints and mystics of every age have practiced this particular form of prayer. This conversational prayer is called mental prayer, but the name can be misleading because it is a deeply personal, intimate form of prayer in which we talk to God in our own words about whatever is on our hearts.

If you want to improve your relationship with God, if you want to take your spiritual life to the next level, talk to Him. Talk to Him. Sit down and spend some time talking to God. Trust, surrender, believe, and receive.

Lord, I pray for all my Sonshine Friends that we make the time to sit quietly with our tea and coffee in hand and just listen, just listen, and know that He has us in the palm of His hand to bring us calm and peace to our lives.

 

 

Coming to Pieces

 

A tiny grain plants itself deep within the soil. It is tucked into complete darkness. It is fearless, comforted by the tough, safe shell that is its home. It belongs there, and knows it. In quiet. In growth. Home. 

 

Then the shell-shelter turns tight and invading and painful. 

 

The growing seed’s former peace is replaced by shock. Its earlier great protector is now opposing it, holding it back. Crushing it. Then, suddenly, as if planned from all eternity, the protecting shell cracks right open, letting in the outside. “Wait, wait, I need you,” shouts the seed.

Nothing doing. The shelter is going to pieces! Moisture trickles in, and bits of dank, cold soil. Anything and everything can now wriggle right into the heart of what was a quiet, pure place.

The seed goes crazy. 

 

But it copes somehow, wildly extending a new, thin arm outward, then slithering out its whole self. “Steady by jerks,” it says, through the cracks in its shell. It had to get out of there, so it dares its way into the rough, cold mud. How foolish and how shaming. Stay where safety is, you fool! 

 

But the transforming tiny self seems to take on a new life. Is this its new home now? Buried in the slippery soil? Ok, it moves with caution. 

 

Too much is in its path, including a huge, unyielding rock. A jagged, rough, uncaring rock, heedless of tiny green shoots. 

 

And so the story ends. 

 

But not yet. The former seed appears to have will power. It is seeking something—urging itself toward some pressing objective, rooting its way by intuition. Along the under-edge of the rock it goes, brutally, fearfully and with rending pain. After what seems like years it achieves the far under-edge of the gnarly rock and, guess what. 

 

It starts upward again. 

 

Now there are hard clods it has to press through, and plenty of pebbles. The higher it goes the more dry the surrounding soil. Finally, the top crust. But it too forbids penetration. It is an ultimate, intractable, stupefying barrier. 

 

And so the story ends. 

 

Except for one voice from deep within. Push, push, it murmurs. I am with you. Now just a thinnest lesion in the tough crust. With a certainty that might have been written on its heart, this vine-to-be squeezes through and gets to the place it was meant to be all along. In a haven of light and warmth, bathed in the sun’s astonishing rays. It is now a plant and it relaxes and stretches and yawns in the wafting breezes of Spring. 

 

This is just like our own journey, isn’t it? Of course, dark mud can take a chokehold on our life.

But, Jesus says, do not worry, child, trust me. “Unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains just a grain of wheat; but if it dies, it produces much fruit” 

 

Lord, I pray for all my Sonshine Friends that you give them the power to push through the difficulties of life so that they find your light waiting for them at the end of their journey.

 

Making Pancakes and A Change of Heart

 

Six-year-old Brandon decided one Saturday morning to fix his parents pancakes. He found a big bowl and spoon, pulled a chair to the counter, opened the cupboard and pulled out the heavy flour canister, spilling it on the floor. He scooped some of the flour into the bowl with his hands, mixed in most of a cup of milk and added some sugar, leaving a floury trail on the floor which by now had a few tracks left by his kitten. Brandon was covered with flour and getting frustrated. He wanted this to be something very good for Mom and Dad, but it was getting very bad.

He didn't know what to do next, whether to put it all into the oven or on the stove and he didn't know how the stove worked! Suddenly he saw his kitten licking from the bowl of mix and reached to push her away, knocking the egg carton to the floor. Frantically he tried to clean up this monumental mess but slipped on the eggs, getting his pajamas white and sticky.

And just then, he saw Dad standing at the door. Big crocodile tears welled up in Brandon's eyes. All he'd wanted to do was something good, but he'd made a terrible mess. He was sure a scolding was coming, maybe even a spanking. But his father just watched him. Then, walking through the mess, he picked up his crying son, hugged him and loved him, getting his own pajamas white and sticky in the process!

 

That's how God deals with us. We try to do something good in life, but it turns into a mess. Our marriage gets all sticky or we insult a friend, or we can't stand our job, or our health goes sour. Sometimes we just stand there in tears because we can't think of anything else to do. That's when God picks us up and loves us and forgives us, even though some of our mess gets all over Him.

 

What God wants from us is a change of heart, a change of direction in the course of our lives through good works. And good works do not begin overseas somewhere in Mexico or Africa or Asia, or even in some poor inner city area. Good works should begin in our own families, in our own neighborhoods and in our everyday lives. They begin with the little things-- the kind word, the encouraging pat on the back, or doing what the author of our story did, being willing to listen to someone pour out his heart. These small acts of kindness are of far more weight than an envelope in the offering plate or a prayer for a missionary overseas. How often we long to do the great things for Christ, but overlook these daily critical signs of faith that should be our way of life. 

 

Remember just because we might mess up, we can't stop trying to "make pancakes" for God or for others. Sooner or later we'll get it right, and then they'll be glad we tried...

 

Lord, I pray for all my Sonshine Friends that during Lent we look for any wounds that need to be healed, friendships that need rekindled or three words that to be said, sometimes, "I love you" that can heal and bless!

 

 

Would You Like to Come to My Church?

 

The former pastor was laicIzed by his Roman Catholic diocese for misappropriation of church funds. He had been removed from the Polish Catholic Church a year earlier for the same crime. However, in the Roman statement, it reported that any sacraments that he administered in the PNCC tradition were invalid. The PNCC bishop was outraged.

How do we handle situations that make us so mad that we want to spit?

Jesus braided a whip. He had emotions just like we do. And he sometimes got angry, just like we do. But the difference between him and us is in how he expressed his emotions. That's something we don't all know how to do

We read from the Gospel of John that Jesus told those who were selling the doves, "Take these things out of here! Stop making my Father's house a marketplace!" That's one way that Jesus' anger is different from so much of ours. He feels the feelings that we feel, but he can say what he's angry about.

What was Jesus angry about? His Father's house had been turned into a marketplace. You can understand why he'd be upset about that. Anger isn't always so unreasonable. Most of the time we are justified in our anger, but we get all messed up in coming to terms with what it is that we're really angry about, and then deciding what it is that we're going to do about it.

In John’s gospel, we read, "Making a whip of cords, he drove all of them out of the temple, both the sheep and the cattle." In all four of the Gospel accounts of Jesus' life and ministry he storms into the Temple kicking over tables, scattering the coins of the money changers, and setting free the animals, but only in John does he first make a whip of cords.

Do you know how long it takes to braid a whip of cords? I don't. And I don't know, not only because I've never done it, but also because when I get angry, I don't first stop to do anything that might help me calm down or process my thoughts. Instead, I either just start talking without thinking or go silent and brooding. Hardly, if ever, do I stop what I'm doing to sit down to think about why it is that I'm angry and what it is that I'm going to do about it.

Jesus is different. Jesus gets angry and then he braids a whip of cords. There are those among us who get angry then send off a Twitter message. Others who get angry, then yell at the first person they see.

Another thing we do with anger is keep it inside so that it rots our guts and hollows our spirit. Some try to drown it with liquor, numb it with drugs, either of which is destructive, and few take the time to sit down and really think about it. What am I mad about? Then, what am I going to do about it? The knee-jerk response - to get somebody fired or excommunicated, or doubt their sacramental status, - can do more harm than good.

Jesus, fueled by anger, purifies the Temple so that it might no longer be a marketplace, but a Temple. No longer a place for greed, but a sanctuary for the hurting.

And how did he do it? Through anger. Through an anger that is frustrated with what is and directed towards that which stands in the way of a better future.

Instead, he braids a whip. So what did I tell the parishioners this weekend after this news about their former pastor and their sacraments were labeled unworthy.

Go out and with anyone you meet say: “Would you like to come to my church?” Here you take the anger and turn it around with a message that says: “Divine Mercy Church or Holy Family Church or Mother of the Rosary Cathedral, we are a Temple and sanctuary for healing.”

Lord, I pray for all my Sonshine Friends who have been angered by their church statements that have made us feel unworthy, outcasts, misunderstood. Jesus came to bring healing and the compassionate love that bring hope to those who feel abandoned. This week take that anger and as you walk in the parking lot or check out counter simple say to that person with a smile: “Would you like to come to my church?”