“Abide in me as I abide in you.”

In this week’s gospel reading, I hear Christ’s call to be in relationship with Him.

“I am the vine, you are the branches.”

This relationship is unlike any other. It is one of pure and perfect dependence: a relationship of sustenance.

“Just as the branch cannot bear fruit by itself unless it abides in the vine, neither can you unless you abide in me.”

He wants to give us everything we need to flourish. What makes it all the more remarkable is that not only can He accomplish this, He is the only one who can!

“Every branch that bears fruit He prunes to make it bear more fruit.”

When we choose to be in relationship with Him, we begin to bear fruit. With the aim of making us plentiful, we are lovingly pruned.

“If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask for whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. My Father is glorified by this, that you bear much fruit and become my disciples.”

Our relationship with the Lord is characterized by service. Just as we serve Him when we abide in His word, He serves us. He invites us to give Him our hopes and wishes with the expectation that He will fulfill them if we abide in Him. He wants us to want what He wants, which is a hearty vine, where every branch is heavy with ripe fruit.


Worldly relationships can be a source of great joy and great sorrow. They are the products of co-authorship — we can be both fully in and out of control of them because they require the active participation of two separate beings to work.

How wonderful it is that God tells us a priori what to expect from being in relationship with Him. There’s no guess work involved — He’s laid it out completely. We don’t have to worry about ulterior motives, backtracking, or disingenuousness (At least not on His part!). We can rely on His steadfastness, His patience, His mercifulness, and His compassion for us. We can rest in the knowledge that not only does He want the best for us, He is the one who will provide it.

That being said, we have to be willing to be in this kind of relationship with Him. To be the branch. To abide in His word. To allow ourselves to be pruned by Him. To want the bountiful vine. No wonder humility is an essential Christian virtue! I can’t imagine wanting to be a single branch on a bountiful vine without it.

Just like the many relationships that have shaped us over the course of our lives, being in relationship with God has the potential to powerfully transform us. And having been transformed, we can enter into new relationships with others, sharing with them the fruits of His labour.




Laura Dysart

Little children: because He knows all, and we know very little. John addresses us this way in accordance with our identity in God. We are His children, and we will always be, regardless of how much we learn and grow. He whose knowledge is infinite searches our hearts like a masterful treasure hunter. He will spend our entire lives plumbing the depths of our hearts, seeking to reveal His likeness buried far beneath the condemning layers of sin.


Ambivalence, independence, control, judgement, self aggrandizement, greed, sloth: these are merely the blanket of sod resting yards above the treasure trove He has placed within me. The debris, distance, and vast waters surrounding my own personal desert island are dark and isolating at times. How will He ever find me under all this? How dare I ask that He even look my way for all the dirt I have piled on top of me?


The unfathomable truth is: He does look. He is always looking. It is my own heart who has buried me here. My heart condemns. His heart abides. His heart abides because these sins are not the truth of who I am. The truth of who I am is in that treasure chest buried beneath them. As He digs down through the dirt, He finds loose treasures on His way through to me, and He reveals them to remind me who I am. He drags them up into the light, shakes off the dirt, carefully wipes them clean by the purity of His hands and shares them with me, and also with those around me.


This has been a week of much turmoil. There have been many different ways in which uncertainty has reared its ugly head. I can taste my fragility, and I am tempted to let my fears drive me deeper into the sand. This is a sure sign that I have forgotten what God has commanded me. I have forgotten how great He truly is. And so, my most embarrassing confession is that I have not asked Him for reassurance. I have, however, been reassuring others of my prayers for them, perhaps though, forgetting who will be the one to answer them.


This morning, with this reassurance from God in the first letter of John, I will follow the dial on my compass to Love:

Father, I believe in the name of Your Son, Jesus Christ.
I believe You are greater than my heart.
I believe You know everything.
What I ask, I believe You will answer.
I believe You abide in me.


And now, if but for a moment, my treasure chest is lifted out of the ground. The lock is busted loose. The heavy lid creaking open; His gifts beaming in the Light for all to see and share in.

Let’s reach out today and affirm the gifts we see in one another, pray with an expectant faith, remind one another of Who it is we believe in, and share His treasure extravagantly.




Lori MacDonald

I am tired.

COVID tired.

Anyone else?


It’s exhausting planning something, be it for work or leisure, only to have the rug pulled out from under those plans just when they were so close to coming to fruition. The night after the newest round of restrictions were implemented, I was playing a board game with some family (Less than five people!). The original plan had been to have a long awaited Cousins Game Night. We had been planning it for weeks. But alas, COVID strikes again. I hadn’t realized how much the shift in plans irritated me until I became a sore loser. As we played the game, I had a particular strategy in mind. My brother blocked my key move. I got mad. I never get mad! I sulked. I never sulk! In doing so, I didn’t see the other ways in which I could have rallied and literally gotten back in the game. Sometimes we are so focused on what’s in front of us that we forget what’s all around us.


What is around us is a crazy, wild, world. And we made it that way. Yet God made our world good. And God made us good. Because of that, we should recognize good around us. God’s goodness is everywhere, yet often I get so stuck in my own head that can’t get out. But taking a breath and allowing God’s Spirit to stir in our hearts can bring the bigger picture into focus. And God’s picture of this world is BIG — bigger than COVID. Thinking about that brings me a sense of wonder and awe.


I’m not sure I have really thought about wonder and awe since my confirmation. I know wonder and awe to be one of the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit. But to be honest, as a teenager, this gift seemed rather “churchy,” that is, not a gift you would use in real, everyday life. Courage, strength, wisdom, right judgement, understanding, reverence — they were more tangible. Yet recently, it is this under appreciated gift that I have often opened; this underlying appreciation and acknowledgement of all that God is and all that God offers me.


The psalmist brought wonder and awe to mind with the phrase: “Lord, from you comes my praise… ” From the Lord comes my praise. I don’t praise to simply give lip service to some unknown being. There is a reason, a source that is not something but someone. That source is God. God is my constant source of Joy. Most importantly, that Joy is not circumstantial. God doesn’t change when my circumstances do. But God gives me the ability to change how I perceive my circumstances. The COVID struggle may be real, but so are the gifts God gives.


Open the gifts.

Use the gifts.

Give the gifts away.

Praise God for the gifts.

Repeat.


And get back in the game!




Aurea Sadi

“Living in the fear of the Lord and the comfort of the Holy Spirit” (Acts 9:31)

Fear of the Lord is one of the gifts of the Holy Spirit. When I first heard of this gift I was a bit perplexed. How can fear be a gift? Fear has always been something I didn’t want. Well maybe a little fear on a fair ride but that’s always been plenty. When I was a young girl I was afraid of the dark. Especially if I couldn’t find the light switch! Then when I was a young adult I worked as a door to door salesperson for a few months. I found myself having to walk alone at night sometimes in rural communities where there weren’t any street lights. I had no choice but to face my fear and it turned out there wasn’t much to be afraid of in the first place. I was grateful not to be afraid of the dark anymore. But fear as a gift? Perplexing.
 
So what does “fear of the Lord” really mean? Fr. Donald Calloway describes the gifts of the Holy Spirit in his book, Consecration to Saint Joseph. This is what he says about it: “It is the fear that is the beginning of wisdom, detaching us from worldly pleasures that could in any way separate us from God.” 

Fear of the Lord to me means being fearful of becoming separated from God, and His grace and protection over my life. There was a time when God was not in my life. Not because He was far away from me but because I was far away from Him. I separated myself from Him. These were dark days for me and remember, I was afraid of the dark. When I asked God to be a part of my life and began to surrender control to Him, then the darkness began to fade. Allowing God to shine His light into my dark recesses was sometimes a painful process. At first I was afraid to let God into my life because of the changes that I might have to make. Over time I realized that the results of those changes were always welcomed and necessary. I’ve learned that it is in those lighted places that I experience the comfort of the Holy Spirit.
 
Now my greatest fear would be to live a life without God and to be denied eternity with Him. So if fear of the Lord causes me to long for His presence in my life and to strive to do His will, then yes, it is absolutely a gift and one I will gladly receive. 




Maxine Brown
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