Lord, teach me. . . .

You load sixteen tons, what do you get? Another day older and deeper in debt. Saint Peter, don’t you call me ‘cause I can’t go— I owe my soul to the company store. --Tennessee Ernie Ford Since when did “we” decide that anything old is worth less than anything new? It seems like every few months, a brand new [fill in the blank] comes out, and we are encouraged to replace whatever we have. Newer! Bigger! Better? Maybe—or maybe not. This time of year, we tend to stop and reflect on what’s happened over the past year or so that’s broken, and make promises (aka resolutions ) that next year, things (and we) will be different. But right now, instead of looking for the bad things to get rid of, pause and reflect on the ways you are different in a better way that you were a year ago. Ask yourself: When did I smooth the path for someone who can’t return the favor? How have I changed my relationship with the Divine? (Or have I? Should I?) Have I loved someone

She was five, sure of the facts, and recited them with slow solemnity convinced every word was revelation. She said they were so poor they had only peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to eat and they went a long way from home without getting lost. The lady rode a donkey, the man walked, and the baby was inside the lady. They had to stay in a stable with an ox and an ass (hee-hee) but the Three Rich Men found them because a star lited the roof. Shepherds came and you could pet the sheep but not feed them. Then the baby was borned. And do you know who he was? Her quarter eyes inflated to silver dollars. The baby was God. And she jumped in the air whirled round, dove into the sofa and buried her head under the cushion which is the only proper response to the Good News of the Incarnation. --John Shea, “The Hour of the Unexpected” Monday  This time of year, community meals are running on empty. How will you help? Can you donate time? A cash gi

Real faith has perfect peace and joy and a shout at any time. It always sees the victory. –Smith Wigglesworth Something remarkable happened in December 1914, during World War I. No one quite understands it. In the week leading up to Christmas, in some areas, French, German and British soldiers laid down their arms and set aside their differences. They ventured into No Man’s Land, exchanged greetings and hugs, shared a smoke and a story. Care packages from home belonged to everyone. It was as if God’s own Holy Spirit moved across the front lines and insisted on being recognized and welcomed. Soccer games broke out. Peals of joy and laughter replaced the sounds of gunfire and rocket blasts. Like little children, men took a break from the painful realities of war that surrounded them. The peaceable kingdom, in some small realms, was at hand. And God saw, and I am certain, God declared, It is good. Of course, it couldn’t last, not as long as even one heart w

Did I offer peace today? Did I bring a smile to someone’s face? Did I say words of healing? Did I let go of my anger and resentment? Did I forgive? Did I love? These are the real questions. I must trust that the little bit of love that I sow now will bear many fruits, here in this world and the life to come.  –Henri J. M. Nouwen Some days, it seems like it’s all bad news. It starts with a glance at the front page: desperate souls dying from overdoses; people we’ve respected now making headlines for abhorrent behaviors; more saber rattling in Korea and the Middle East. Peace in our time? Sure looks like we have a long, long way to go, doesn’t it? Building peace begins with each one of us. When we set aside daily time to focus on the Almighty and the work God is doing in our own lives, we begin to see others through God’s eyes. Building peace happens in the little things, the daily kindness offered to a friend—or a stranger—that brings a smile to their face and ours. L

If you want to shine like a sun, first burn like a sun. –A. P. J. Abdul Kalam Advent is upon us. This week, we lit the first candle in the wreath, the candle of Hope. Now we begin four Sundays of waiting, watching, listening—remembering when Love first came down at Christmas. Sometimes it’s almost impossible to perceive even a glimmer of light in the midst of a cold, dark winter, and even harder to believe my little light can make any difference at all in the world. Every headline, every story on the evening news reminds us how far the world has wandered from the loving good news of the gospel. Even on days when my light burns brightly, it barely seems to light my corner of the city. In the face of expansive evil in the world and problems faced by people across the globe, it’s tremendously important to remember: I cannot do everything, but I can do one thing. I can buy one book to donate to our local schoolchildren. I can fill one bag of groceries for the local food ban