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By Grace I Have Been Saved

30/9/2022

A Reflection on the Gospel for October 2nd, 2022:
Twenty-Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time

Luke
17.5-10

The Apostles said to the Lord, “Increase our faith!” The Lord replied, “If you had faith the size of a mustard seed, you could say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it would obey you.

“Who among you would say to your slave who has just come in from ploughing or tending sheep in the field, ‘Come here at once and take your place at the table’? Would you not rather say to him, ‘Prepare supper for me, put on your apron and serve me while I eat and drink; later you may eat and drink’? Do you thank the slave for doing what was commanded? So you also, when you have done all that you were ordered to do, say, ‘We are worthless slaves; we have done only what we ought to have done!’”

This summer has been a mustard seed season for me. The Lord gifted me with a situation that was not of my asking and totally beyond my human control. As a person who likes a good plan, this was the ultimate conundrum! I had no choice but to hand myself over to the ultimate physician and trust in Him. I could do nothing but lean into the profound gift of faith the Lord has given this unworthy servant.

After receiving the news that I had breast cancer, my husband encouraged me to pray for peace and acceptance. What I realize now is that he didn’t have to tell me to have faith, or to pray for greater faith. We both knew that there was nothing God wouldn’t provide for either of us on this journey. His grace was enough. In His wisdom, He had already placed other women who also had faith on my path. Women I could pray with and for, who could share their experiences, and, as I journeyed further, with whom I could share my experience. God is in all the details of this cancer diagnosis and journey. At first, my doctor indicated that what was showing up in the tests and biopsy was not good news – in fact the words she used were “troubling and very concerning”. The biopsy showed that the cells had travelled, and because it had been several years since my last mammogram, we had no idea how long the cancer had been present. Within four weeks I found myself registering at the hospital for surgery as the first step in treatment.

As I was sitting alone, waiting to go into the operating room, a dear sister in Christ appeared at my side. She is a nurse and works on the floor where the surgery was taking place. She told me she had thought her duties were going to prevent her from getting out to see me before I went in, however when she went in that morning, her co-worker had carried out her duties, leaving her free to come see me. That hug and the prayer I know she prayed over me watered my mustard seed, and once again the Lord showed this unworthy servant that He was in control.

Laying on the operating table, the anaesthesiologist told me to think happy thoughts. My mustard seed led me to simply think “Jesus, I trust in You”, which was also the first thought I had when I woke up in recovery in what seemed like just seconds later. The surgery was over. Within days I would learn that the tumour was smaller than had originally been anticipated; the margins around it were cancer-free; and while cells have travelled around, they had not entered the lymph nodes. All glory to God!

I didn’t need great faith. I just needed faith. I didn’t need a plan. I just needed to trust and obey. He didn’t do it because I am owed anything from Him for serving Him. Those are the actions I am expected to take as a servant of God. The Lord has done great things for me, and I am totally unworthy. His Word says that faith the size of a mustard seed can do what no human faith can.

“For by grace you have been saved through faith; and this is not your own doing, it is the gift of God – not because of works, lest any man should boast.” Ephesians 2.8-9

Sandy Graves

8 Comments

Presence

29/9/2022

3 Comments

A Reflection on the Second Reading for October 2nd, 2022:
Twenty-Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time

2 Timothy
1.6-8, 13-14

Beloved: I remind you to rekindle the gift of God that is within you through the laying on of my hands; for God did not give us a spirit of cowardice, but rather a spirit of power and of love and of self-discipline. Do not be ashamed, then, of the testimony about our Lord or of me his prisoner, but join with me in suffering for the Gospel, relying on the power of God.

Hold to the standard of sound teaching that you have heard from me, in the faith and love that are in Christ Jesus. Guard the good treasure entrusted to you, with the help of the Holy Spirit living in us.

“…join with me in suffering for the Gospel, relying on the power of God.”

I don’t know about you, but I don’t like suffering. I hate being helpless, not in control, and having to rely on other people.

Right now, my suffering consists of being slightly consumed with my own loneliness, brokenness, and unlovability. I’m fully aware of how ridiculous and self-absorbed this is, because I have a perfectly good life, but I’m deeply lonely. And I’ve been praying desperately for healing and consolation, but I just can’t feel anything. This isn’t uncommon for me: I’ve been in a spiritual mostly-dry spell for a long time, where I can’t really feel God’s presence. I keep extremely busy and pour myself into work, ministry, and community so that I don’t have to think about – or rather, feel – how lonely and desolate I am. So being encouraged to ask for more suffering is a bitter pill for me to swallow. How do I rely on the power of God when I can’t feel Him there?

I was talking to a friend about this and she asked if I could think of any times when I was suffering and Jesus made it really clear that He was in fact there. “Nope,” I said.

“What about when your mom died?” she asked.

I had to think about that. My mom died in 2011 from a neurodegenerative disease called Multiple Systems Atrophy (MSA). It was horrible to watch, but I wasn’t the one suffering – she was, and she handled the three-year progression from symptoms to paralysis with grace and deep faith. We knew early on that her illness would be terminal, and so we had a long time to prepare, accept the inevitable, and say goodbye. It was hard, but I accepted her death, or was resigned to it, surprisingly without anger or fear. I kept praying, “Lord, if it is Your will, let her be healed, but if not, help her not to suffer…” and I accepted that it wasn’t His will for her to live. Plus, there was relief in knowing that her death meant she was no longer suffering. I grieved, and still grieve, of course, and I kept going, because I had to.

No, I told my friend, I don’t remember any clear signs of Jesus with me, no signs of God’s presence. Just acceptance and resignation. That it was hard, but get-through-able.

“What about that?” she said.

“What about what?” I asked.

“The fact that you were able to accept it and you weren’t distressed and you could keep going. Maybe that was from Jesus.”

Huh. I’d never really thought of it that way. That maybe the absence of distress – the absence of feeling anything – was actually the presence of God. God answering my prayers, invisibly, silently. Her words struck a chord in me. I’m still mulling them over. I didn’t think I was relying on the power of God for myself, but, arguably, Jesus was probably carrying me through my mom’s illness just as much as He does in that famous “Footprints in the Sand” story.

I’m not really sure what this all means. But it makes me think that when I’m suffering, maybe I’ll never actually notice God. Maybe I can trust that even when I’m doing my best to be utterly self-sufficient and not rely on anyone, God is still holding me up in ways that I don’t even realize. Maybe… absence can be presence, too.

God, You are in all things … that means Your felt absence must in fact always, irrefutably, be Your full Presence.

Kim Tan

3 Comments

The Voice of God

28/9/2022

7 Comments

A Reflection on the Psalm for October 2nd, 2022:
Twenty-Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time

Psalm 95

R. O that today you would listen to the voice of the Lord. Do not harden your hearts!

O come, let us sing to the Lord; let us make a joyful noise to the rock of our salvation! Let us come into his presence with thanks-giving; let us make a joyful noise to him with songs of praise!

R. O that today you would listen to the voice of the Lord. Do not harden your hearts!

O come, let us worship and bow down, let us kneel before the Lord, our Maker! For he is our God, and we are the people of his pasture, and the sheep of his hand.

R. O that today you would listen to the voice of the Lord. Do not harden your hearts!

O that today you would listen to his voice! Do not harden your hearts, as at Meribah, as on the day at Massah in the wilderness, when your ancestors tested me, and put me to the proof, though they had seen my work.

R. O that today you would listen to the voice of the Lord. Do not harden your hearts!

Where is His voice?
How can I hear Him?

I walk. I breathe. Look around. Listen.

In my dog’s hopeful gaze, I hear Him speak of reliance, and His gifts of trust and surrender.

As my doctor advocates for my family’s health, I hear His assurance of protection.

Laying my head on the shoulder of a consoling friend, He espouses me to His compassion.

With the breaking sound of a baby’s cry in church, He reminds me of the gift of family.

As the woodpecker feeds at my tree, I hear His promise of provision.

The bees gathering pocketfuls of pollen recite, “He is always gathering hearts to Himself.”

The softness in a flower gone to seed is His covenant of new life.

The balmy summer breeze gingerly breathes His gentleness.

The easy giggle of my sister gives voice to His everlasting joy.

When my children plead injustice, I hear His desire for peace.

As the waves wash and shape the sands, He talks to me about forgiveness.

The blessing of a spiritual mother pours His wisdom over me.

A thick fog rolling in restricts my vision, but in it He reveals His omniscience.

Flowers from a thoughtful friend convey His presence in beauty.

As a new leaf sprouts from a branch, He encourages my interior growth.

In the persistent demands of motherhood, He reminds me of His patience with me.

A single candle burning in the night whispers His endowment of hope.

My life — all that I have and all I look forward to — is a sequence of notes in a song He has sung to me; a gift of extravagant measure. A simple song of grace.

Lori MacDonald

7 Comments

Are You There, God?

27/9/2022

1 Comment

A Reflection on the First Reading for October 2nd, 2022:
Twenty-Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time

Habakkuk
1.2-3; 2.2-4

“O Lord, how long shall I cry for help,
and you will not listen?
Or cry to you ‘Violence!’
and you will not save?
Why do you make me see wrongdoing
and look at trouble?
Destruction and violence are before me;
strife and contention arise.”

Then the Lord answered me and said:
“Write the vision;
make it plain on tablets,
so that a runner may read it.
For there is still a vision for the appointed time;
it speaks of the end, and does not lie.
If it seems to tarry, wait for it;
it will surely come, it will not delay.
Look at the proud person!
Their spirit is not right in them,
but the righteous person lives by their faith.”

Are you there, God? It’s me, Aurea.

Somedays I wonder: where is God? It’s clear on many days when we turn on the news, listen to the radio, look at a newspaper, even walk out our front door, that the destruction and violence that Habbakuk speaks of is here. And, it appears that God is not.

Several years ago, as people were researching support for Saint Mother Teresa’s canonization, it was revealed that for much of her ministry she felt very far away from God. She felt that God was not with her. Can you imagine? She ministered to thousands of poor and destitute. She started a community of religious dedicated to serving the poor. People travelled from all over the world to witness her way of living the faith. She was recognized and awarded for her good works. The assumption of many would be that she of all people felt God near her everyday. How could she feel so spiritually far from the One who called her to serve? Yet, it is what she felt. And I wonder, if she felt such a deep absence of God in her life and work, then what hope is there for me?

But there is hope. There is always hope, because even when we don’t feel God with us, see His work, hear His voice, feel His touch … God is. And always will be. Saint Mother Teresa was so moved by the people and circumstances of her everyday life that she felt compelled to act. What she saw moved her heart; a heart that God placed in her. However, I think being with the poorest of the poor, day after day and not seeing much change – only more poverty – would be disheartening, discouraging, and make you question so many things. But Saint Mother Teresa continued to witness God’s Love even when she did not feel that Love herself. And that is where hope lies. Because when we don’t feel God present, He is. Through us. Another Saint Teresa, of Avila, reminds us that:

“Christ has no body now but yours. No hands, no feet on earth but yours. Yours are the eyes through which he looks with compassion on this world. Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good. Yours are the hands through which he blesses all the world. Yours are the hands, yours are the feet, yours are the eyes, you are his body. Christ has no body now on earth but yours.”

Sitting with saints (and scriptures) is necessary for our spiritual journeys. They remind us that when we are overwhelmed with the people and circumstances of the world around us that we have the ability to, as Saint Mother Teresa said, take small actions with great love. God is made present through His creations – all of us – past, present, and future. And, when we question if God is there? He responds: I am. I am present through you. Go. Share. Love.

Aurea Sadi

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By Grace I Have Been Saved

A Reflection on the Gospel for October 2nd, 2022:​Twenty-Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time

Presence

A Reflection on the Second Reading for October 2nd, 2022:​Twenty-Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time

The Voice of God

A Reflection on the Psalm for October 2nd, 2022:​Twenty-Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time

Are You There, God?

A Reflection on the First Reading for October 2nd, 2022:Twenty-Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time

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A Reflection on the Gospel for October 2nd, 2022:
Twenty-Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time

A Reflection on the Second Reading for October 2nd, 2022:
Twenty-Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time

A Reflection on the Psalm for October 2nd, 2022:
Twenty-Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time

A Reflection on the First Reading for October 2nd, 2022:
Twenty-Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time