Reflecting on Luke 9:18-24

Kathleen, you wouldn’t care so much what people think of you if you knew how seldom they do. That was my Irish father talking, telling his self-absorbed adolescent daughter one of the hardest facts of life: people aren’t really paying any attention to you. Oh.  Good to know.

But it turns out that Jesus cares what other people think of him too, and asks out loud, who do the crowds say I am? Is he John the Baptist, somehow come back from the dead? Or maybe Elijah, who went to the heavens in a chariot of fire and hasn’t been seen since?  Their answers reveal the kind of Mediterranean chatter and interest in the outsider that now seems to belong only in the past.

But Jesus (the Christ) wants us to think about him, to pay attention to him, to have an opinion about him, to gossip with our friends about him.  He knows that the more attention we pay to someone the more space in our lives that person will take.

Let’s revive the lost art of spiritual chatter.  Let’s gossip with the whole Church about this Jesus, and who we say he is.  Let’s breathe on the smoldering wicks of the Scriptures and see if we can start some fires.  One billion Christians heard this Gospel today.  What’s the buzz?

Let’s get talking, Church.  Because, as five-year-old Elliott said to God, I think of you sometimes even when I’m not praying.

Sharing God’s Word at Home:

Who do you say he is?

What would YOU like to say about this question, or today’s readings, or any of the columns from the past year? The sacred conversations are setting a Pentecost fire! Register here today and join the conversation.

I have come to light a fire on the earth; how I wish it were already burning (Lk.12:49).

Reflecting on Luke 7:36-8:3

Only a person who has messed up as many times as I have can really remember the great love that washes over the person who is forgiven. Here’s a story that kind of makes me shudder every time I think of it:

One bitter January afternoon I was rushing to leave for a weekend retreat seventy miles away.  Of course I was late, and of course I locked all my retreat materials in the trunk of the car and threw the car keys in for good measure.

ARGH!!  It was getting later and darker and colder.  I drove our second car to the nearby Safeway where my husband worked.  Quick!!  Give me your keys!!  I don’t have time to explain! And as I was rushing out I sort of heard him say, Don’t lock me out!!

And it wasn’t until hours later, as I was settling into my cozy bed at the retreat house, that I realized that I had done exactly that.  I had left Ben’s keys in the house and used mine to lock the doors.  And of course neither of us had a cell phone.

So out of bed I flew, into the dark night and dark roads of the Colorado mountains.  I pictured Ben shivering in the garage or sleeping on the neighbor’s couch.  And here’s the moment of forgiveness:  I walked up to our front porch and opened the (unlocked) door.  A cozy warm fire was burning in the fireplace.  A sleepy voice called to me from the bedroom.  I knew you’d be back.

Thank God for hide-a-keys. And all the opportunities a lifetime provides us to grow in the kind of love and gratitude that only comes from being let off the hook.

Sharing God’s Word at Home:

What stories can you remember about being forgiven much?

What would YOU like to say about this question, or today’s readings, or any of the columns from the past year?  The sacred conversations are setting a Pentecost fire!  Register here today and join the conversation.

I have come to light a fire on the earth; how I wish it were already burning (Lk.12:49).