Isaiah 8:23-9:3
Psalm 27
1Corinthians 1:10-13, 17
Matthew 4:12-23
“Anguish has taken wing, dispelled is darkness”
So many themes come from these readings, but this is what stood out the most for me during lectio. This is not a promise of something to come but an accomplished fact. “Anguish has taken wing.” I have experienced such anguish in my life for different reasons, so for me to hear that it’s finally all over seems almost surreal. Putting this next to Paul’s words “that the Cross of Christ not lose its meaning” makes me question which is true. They both are, of course. I believe Jesus calls me to experience a freedom from within…a freedom to suffer with Christ with serenity and not anguish…a freedom to see loved ones suffer and know that there is a God who cares. Jesus calls his first followers, and they don’t have a clue what awaits them. Neither do I, yet I feel a call to trust that both light and darkness have a place in my life. I have only to wait with open hands believing that anguish is no more, only faith.
Isaiah 49:3;5-6
Psalm 40
1 Corinthians 1:1-3
John 1:29-34
I Did Not Know Him
Today seems to be built around the idea of the call each one of us receives. Isaiah speaks of being formed in the womb and called to be a servant. Paul identifies himself as being called to be an apostle and tells the Corinthians they are called to be holy. John, for me, seems to be reflecting on this baptism incident. He knows he is called to prepare the way, to be the bridegroom, to watch for the one on whom the Spirit descends, and then to decrease and trust. Yet, even with all this, what strikes me most is his twice repeated phrase, “I did not know him.”
This past week’s gospels spoke much of the call with Samuel and Matthew among those called. In the story of Samuel, it says that at that time, he was not yet familiar with the Lord. This struck me to the heart. Do I know the Lord? Am I familiar with the Lord? No, not yet. God must be knocking and pounding on the thick doors of my mind and heart, and I don’t even hear it. God is in my sisters, the young, the parents, and most often, I miss that presence completely. I fear reaching the end of my life and only being able to say, “I did not know him.” I fear even more hearing the Lord say, “I do not know you,” as he did to those locked out of the feast. They taught in their churches and preached in the streets, but did not know the Lord. To me, that is a huge risk! My call is not only public; God calls me to know and be known.
Lord, come to me. Come as you will, but help me open my heart to become familiar with you.
Isaiah 42:1-4;6-7
Psalm 29
Acts 10:34-38
Matthew 3:13-17
Am I Missing Something?
All week long I’ve been thinking about epiphanies and how they have happened in my life. How often I have that “Ahah” experience and come to understand something that has previously been a mystery to me. These feasts of Epiphany and Baptism are all about God manifesting Godself to us. God has “grasped me by the hand”. [Actually, I think God had to tackle me since I'm usually running from God.] The line in the Gospel where Jesus comes up from the water and “the heavens were opened for him” leads me to ask myself, “What is God trying to get across to me and maybe I’m not listening?” What part of the “heavens”, of mystery, is God trying to break open for me at this time of my life?
The gospels throughout the week all had Jesus “manifesting” himself to the apostles: healing, feeding the 5000, walking on water…duh! Yet they still didn’t catch on. So what am I missing? Maybe God is being just as clear with me, but I’m not attentive enough to get it. Lord, help me to see. If you will to, you can heal my blindness.
Numbers 6:22-27
Psalm 67
Galatians 4:4-7
Luke 2:16-21
Mary Kept These Things
Jesus is born of a woman, and what a woman she is! When Mary “reflects” on all these things, I doubt it’s like any kind of reflection I try to do. For her, she must just allow God’s presence to flood her soul and then view each person and event as God would. Talk about perspective! Another translation says that she “treasured” these things in her heart. Treasure is far different from harboring, ruminating, and nurturing a resentment. That’s what I’m more likely to do. Instead, she treasures whatever happens. She holds it tenderly, as something dear. She cries out together with her Son, “Abba, Father!” But her cry is not desperation as much as acceptance.
Mary, teach me true silence so I can see people and events as God does. Then help me respond to others from a place of balance and peace. Help me find that place within my heart.
Recent Comments