"Be Not Afraid"

What follows is the sermon I offered tonight at a Vespers Service at Arbor Terrace-Decatur.  I thought there might be a few folks out there who would gain something from this -- I gained from the writing of it...

"Be Not Afraid"

Sermon for Arbor Terrace – Decatur

Vespers: August 25, 2013

Isaiah 41:8-10

But you, Israel, my servant,

            Jacob, whom I have chosen,
            the offspring of Abraham, my friend;
You whom I took from the ends of the earth,
            and called from its farthest corners,
saying to you, "You are my servant,
            I have chosen you and not cast you off";
do not fear, for I am with you,
            do not be afraid, for I am your God;
I will strengthen you, I will help you,
            I will uphold you with my victorious right hand.

Lamentations 3:55-58

I called on your name, O Lord,

            from the depths of the pit;
you heard my plea, "Do not close your ear
            to my cry for help, but give me relief!"
You came near when I called on you;
            you said, "Do not fear!"
You have taken up my cause, O Lord,
            you have redeemed my life.

Romans 8:12-17

 ¹²So then, brothers and sisters, we are debtors, not to the flesh, to live according to the flesh—¹³for if you live according to the flesh, you will die; but if by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live. ¹⁴For all who are led by the Spirit of God are children of God. ¹⁵For you did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received a spirit of adoption.  When we cry, "Abba! Father!" ¹⁶it is that very Spirit bearing witness with our spirit that we are children of God, ¹⁷and if children, then heirs, heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ—in fact, we suffer with him so that we may also be glorified with him.

             Depending on whether you watch the news or not, you may have heard of Antoinette Tuff.  Ms. Tuff is the school bookkeeper at Ronald E. McNair Discovery Learning Academy in Decatur.  This past Tuesday afternoon, Ms. Tuff stepped beyond her fear and into her reliance on God's promises.  This past Tuesday afternoon, Ms. Tuff shared her faith, her story, her courage with a young man determined to kill.

            Normally, Antoinette Tuff does not sit where she was sitting that afternoon.  She was relieving the School Secretary. Ms. Tuff came face to face with the young man who had managed to come into the School with the intent of killing adults and children – over 800 individuals.  Ms. Tuff admits that the first thing she did was begin praying for him. 

            In an interview with Channel Two News, Ms. Tuff shares that she remembered her pastor teaching the congregation about "anchoring in the Lord" when listening and talking with anyone in a crisis.  So, that's exactly what Antoinette Tuff did.  She began by praying for him and herself and for the students and teachers in that building and for the police outside.  She encouraged the young man to talk about what he was thinking, about why he was thinking it.  By listening, she opened a door to salvation for him – and for the all of the children and teachers in that building.

            In her conversation with this young man, Antoinette Tuff reflected on her own losses and difficulties.  In doing so, she allowed her life, her authenticity to inform her compassion in this frightful, fearful situation. 

            At one point, in response to the young man saying that he didn't have anyone who loved him, Ms. Tuff assured him that even as she did not "know" him, she did, indeed, love him.  Antoinette Tuff expressed Christ's love to this hurting, broken young man.  In doing so, he was able to begin believing that the situation could change, that the outcome could be something different than what he had believed when he arrived. 

            In her own words, Ms. Tuff shared that it "wasn't nobody but God;" that "through His grace and mercy" she kept it together.  Because of Antoinette Tuff's ability to call upon her faith, upon God's grace and mercy, to keep it together, in her position as front line defense, over 800 children and adults were kept from harm and a young man – broken and fearful --  was kept from a sure death. 

            Be not afraid.

            In our text from Isaiah, Yahweh is now speaking comfort and reassurance to the exiles – after 150 years of fearful, distraught silence and degradation!  Yahweh reminds them that He has chosen them and has not cast them off.   Yahweh makes several powerful promises:

            Do not fear – I am with you.

            Do not be afraid – I am your God.
            I will strengthen you.
            I will help you.
            I will uphold you.

One of my favorite hymns is Standing on the Promises, especially the second and last verses:

2.

Standing on the promises that cannot fail,
When the howling storms of doubt and fear assail,
By the living Word of God I shall prevail,
Standing on the promises of God.

Refrain:
Standing, standing,
Standing on the promises of God my Savior;
Standing, standing,
I’m standing on the promises of God.

5.

Standing on the promises I cannot fall,
List’ning every moment to the Spirit’s call,
Resting in my Savior as my all in all,
Standing on the promises of God.

            This is what Antoinette Tuff did.  She stood upon the promises of God.  God was there.  Where in our lives are we truly, remarkably standing upon the promises of God?  Each and every day there are occasions to see this, to experience the strength, the hope, the promises of God.  We have to stay alert.  We have to "listen every moment to the Spirit's call."

            The circumstances of the Spirit's call in each of our lives most likely will never be as dramatic and newsworthy as Ms. Tuff's.  However, those circumstances will most likely be as spiritually significant to us and to those we encounter as what happened in the School Front Office.  A testimony, a listening heart, a wounded soul -- how often do we encounter and offer that combination?

            Do not fear, for I am with you.

            Lamentations is a hymn-book for the Israelites.  Our text comes straight from a version of "Standing on the Promises" you might say. 

⁵⁵I called on your name, O Lord,

            from the depths of the pit;
⁵⁶you heard my plea, "Do not close your ear
            to my cry for help, but give me relief!"
⁵⁷You came near when I called on you;
            you said, "Do not fear!"
⁵⁸You have taken up my cause, O Lord,
            you have redeemed my life.

            When we are in our fearful places, do we call upon God's name? When we hear the Spirit's call and we are in a crisis, do we trust that God is listening?

            Antoinette Tuff trusted, she had faith that God was in that room; she had faith that God was listening, and that God would give her the words to share with this young man.  "⁵⁸You have taken up my cause, O Lord, you have redeemed my life."

            In our most worrisome, frightened moments, we can trust, we can have faith that God is present, that God hears our cries, that God will take up our cause, that God will redeem our lives.

            How?  How do we know that?  How can we have that trust, that faith?

            We do this, we know this because through Christ, we are alive.  Through Christ, we have received a spirit of adoption – not a spirit of slavery, of fear.  As Paul said to the Romans, "^15bWhen we cry 'Abba! Father!,' ¹⁶it is that very Spirit bearing witness with our spirit that we are children of God, ¹⁷and if children, then heirs, heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ…"

            He is ours and we are His.  Through this new relationship, this new covenant, we are promised that we are never alone, that we are working toward the inbreaking of a glorious world – one of love and compassion and understanding, full of grace and mercy.

            Where in your life will you pray, listen, share, and be the living Word of God for someone who is in need of God's grace and mercy?

            In the words of Antoinette Tuff, there "wasn't nobody but God;" that "through His grace and mercy" she kept it together.

            We are not alone.  God is with us.

            Be not afraid!

Struggling with Self

Experiencing a time of struggling with what I want to do versus what God apparently wants me to do leaves me pulled in two directions.  The whole experience is very disruptive to any sustained spiritual peace.  Yet, spiritual peace is overrated actually.  In my experience, I have grown more deeply and well during times of wrestling, times of disruption -- as uncomfortable as those times are. 

This experience leads me to consider my time sitting with God.  From all accounts, God seems to be asking me for some uninterrupted time with my soul.  I'm considering how best to manage my time so that God gets that uninterrupted time and I don't lose too much sleep.  Of course, perhaps that is part of the cost of admission to God's uninterrupted time.

I ponder the religious vocationals.  The offices have them up at 2am and again at 4am and on it goes.  The Rule of Benedict structures our lives around prayer; yet balances the way our relationship with God is viewed.  Whether one's activity is one's work, one's leisure, or one's prayer -- all is done with glory for God. 

So, how might I better structure my time, balanced and with glory for God, so that my peace is productive?  Perhaps during my uninterrupted time that God seems to be arranging, God will reveal some ideas!

More later...

Time to Sit with God

While sitting with my spiritual friend this afternoon, he said that he felt it was time for me to sit with God for a while.  You see, I find myself at a confluence of thought, emotion, spiritual questing, and physical tiredness.

A confluence is a meeting of two or more flowing water sources -- at least in my experience that's what it is.  My use of that word is very deliberate.  In my experience of my own thought processes, the way my emotions work, the spiritual journey I've been on, and the way my body responds to stress, it's all flowing.  I have been learning to go with the flow of my life rather than pushing the river.  So, you can tell, I'm all over the water metaphors!

The undercurrents of a confluence can be very strong, confusing -- misdirecting -- exhausting.  I've been struggling with having a divided heart and mind about my relationship with God and how I accomplish God's work given to me in the world.  Apparently, it is time for me to sit with God.

Now, when I sit with God, when my mind and heart and soul are full, I don't converse with God.  I simply sit and listen.  Admittedly, I do begin my time sitting with a prayer of thanksgiving, of submission, of opening my heart to hear.  Then...I listen.

It's amazing what I hear.  The simplest things become rich, music-like.  The rustling of tree leaves, the honk of a goose, the crunch on pavement of someone walking, the smell of whatever is in the air at a given moment, the feel of the chair, bench, ground that I'm sitting on -- all of these sensory experiences wrap me and invite me to drop deeper into an experience of God's presence than I normally allow. 

That's when the silence envelopes me.  A silence that is thick and sweet.  A silence that is permeated by love, pure love, indescribable in its acceptance and unconditional essence.  The love of the universe.  In this spot, I hear, I receive -- what I can seldom verbalize, yet when I return to the world, things are clearer, struggling is gone, acceptance and submission are possible and a joy, a sublime joy permeates my heart and my spirit.  Answers to my questions may or may not be present, may or may not have risen to the top of my consciousness, but joy is there.

Gratitude.  Grace.  Amen and Amen.

Shifting Spaces

We all live and breathe in shifting spaces.

Some of us mindfully live in the world, not of it.

That's my goal.  Living mindfully, intentionally in everything I do.

I'm sitting here with my dogs draped around my shoulders like huge, warm, shawls.  Even though they're both large dogs, they like to think and act like lap dogs (or shoulder dogs).  Dogs are so present; so immediate.  They want my company, so they avail themselves of my presence. 

I choose to experience God in the same way.  God is present; immediate.  God wraps that Presence around me and my life like a large shawl.  There, warm, holy, for me to discover at any time, any place I need.

My Lament for Wesley

Why?!  Why is the question on a lot of our hearts right now as we are reeling from the news.  Our friend and fellow-dancer Wesley Brown was shot and killed Saturday night.  It was stupid.  It was senseless.

Why?!  Our hearts are broken.  We are holding Kelly and Madeline close in our hearts, wishing for time to see them and hug them and be with them.

Why?!  Earlier this summer I wrote an article on the work of grieving; on the necessity of allowing that work to occur in us.  It is essential that we allow grief to wash over us when it comes and simply be with it.  Grief and grieving are cleansing and educational.  Mostly, grieving—especially at this point—is simply there, not to be ignored or set aside.

As an aspect of our grieving, we can allow our faith to spill over into doubt, into questioning.  Without doubt, we never get around to asking the difficult questions of God, of ourselves. 

Why?!  I find myself asking that age-old question of God: "Why, God, did you allow this to happen?  Why?!"

While in the grip of doubt, letting our anger out is cleansing.  There are safe ways of doing so, such as  journaling, praying, swinging a wiffle bat against a pillow or a sofa.  Even screaming at God!  God can take it.  I know I am angry with, of all things, Wesley's employers.  I'm angry that he had to work instead of come to Cumberland—where he would have been instead of in that store Saturday night!  I'm angry that a gang decided to retaliate in an outbreak of violence which spilled over and ended Wesley's life.

Grief and anger exist together in a tangled mess so many times.  This tangled mess could very well be the reason this "senseless" violence broke out to begin with—what were the members of this gang grieving? 

 And, yes, I am angry with God.  Very angry.  My private conversations with God over the last 48 hours have been filled with angry tears and demands to know, to understand.

Yet, as I have moved with my grief, the question has shifted.  Shifted to how.

How, God, am I to be with this?  I have faith that Wesley is in a better place right now, is resting and healing in the light of God.  Yet, his family – a young daughter and his beloved wife – are HERE without him.

How can I be of comfort and support to his family?

This is a healthy movement our souls can take in response to our grief.  Yet, even this healthy movement does not resolve the deep sadness and the ache of loss in my heart.  Only time will do so.

May the grace of God go with Wesley's family and friends through the coming days and weeks.

Grace does abound.

Life Lived in Lectio

Lectio Divina...divine reading...reading in a way that pays attention to divine presence...listening to what radiates in one's heart and soul...imagine living your every day life in such a way.  Being aware.  Being awake.  Knowing God is present.

For me, that's why there are certain spiritual practices I love.  I love praying the daily offices; I love reading scripture (and lots of other texts) in lectio; I crave prayer time; I love to pause and listen.  I get filled with joy when I realize that I've most likely heard something "right."  I get filled with Spirit's happiness when I go and be and do what God has asked of me.

Discernment is a daily exercise because we are never done. Our journeys are one day of discernment followed by another.  Each day, we be and do the best we can in response to our experience of God's guidance.  Today I heard a sermon on the feeling of the "next thing."  I left that service all aglow...I had had a lectio moment.  Actually, I had experienced several lectio moments.  Several phrases had radiated for me -- "Here I am Lord,"  "restore the joy," "the next thing," "Amazing Grace," "clean slate," "broken and poured out for me" -- WOW!

This morning as I was preparing myself for worshipping with a new and different community of faith, I had drawn three prayer words from my stash.  They were "patience," "joy," and "mercy."  As I have been reflecting on my worship experience, those words have come back to me.  Patience with whom or what?  My children?  The "process"?  Joy...yeah...JOY!  Mercy.  Mercy is another hard one.  Mercy with others in my life who will have a difficult transition as we find a new faith community--including those we leave behind as well as those we join?  Mercy.  That's a word that's packed with meaning, one that I will be praying on and living with over the next few days. 

I have faith that the coming days will be filled with moments of insight and clarity and understanding; I also accept that the coming days will most likely have moments of doubt, fear, regret...and...perhaps, Mercy.

A life lived in lectio is a life filled with grace and gratitude, tears and joy, doubt and wonder.  A life lived in lectio is a life lived listening.

Confluence

I'm sitting here tonight working on about three things at once.  Taking a break from each to work on the others.  I am absolutely certain there are others out there doing the same thing!

With all the transitions happening in my life right now, I'm being extremely careful of how I react to others.  I'm being so because I am a little suspicious of my own emotional volatility.  While on the surface it might seem to add yet one more thing to my head, it actually feels pretty good.  As I am more present to my own emotional state, I'm being more present.  Period.  That is always a good thing. 

Over the last couple of days I have had a few conversations with folks where I was becoming too...something.  I began to feel the edges of frustration and anger floating under the surface as well as the thick gooey feelings of sadness that I know is grief.  Yet, on the other hand has been incredible, deep joy.  The joy of knowing I'm on the right track. 

Stepping out in faith, not knowing for sure what's coming, what God has in store for me is exciting, I admit.  It feels good to be in a place where I can do that.  I have a tremendously fulfilling job now that is paying me enough.  So, what comes next in this ministry mustard seed that's been planted in me to work with those with dementia and their caregivers is free to come at its own speed.  I don't anticipate having to quit my job in order to do this ministry.  I say that because every day God points out to me that I am engaged in an important ministry within the responsibilities of my job.  Every day I have awesome conversations with caregivers needing to talk.

There are aspects to this transition which continue to make me sad.  Having to give up my ministerial commission is painful and on a very elemental level feels very "unfair."  Yet, God sees that, feels that sadness and is, I believe, sad right along with me.  I do believe that something will be resolved around this issue that will allow me, in the end, to continue preaching and pastorally caring for folks, to be able to counsel and marry couples, to be Pastor Daphne.  We'll see.

Basically, it comes down to needing to slow down, needing to be quiet and listen, needing to be patient and wait.  I can do that.

The Work of Grieving

"Too many times we stand aside and let the waters slip away

             . . . dare to dance the tide."  ~   Anonymous

Why do we grieve?  Why are our hearts so entangled with one another's?  Why must we mourn our losses—large and small—and suffer the consequences when we refuse to do so?

Losses, changes, transitions—good, bad, or indifferent—all bring about grieving.  Some instances of loss, change, or transition affect our relationships because of death, illness, distance, work schedules, and even philosophies.  Our relationships form the bases of our lives.  We were created for community and when that community is disrupted, we grieve.

Grieving, despite its bad reputation, is a necessary part of growth.  Without the work of grieving, we tend to lose ourselves in the tangled emotional webs we weave.  Grieving helps to gently untangle our needs, our fears, and our doubts from the truth of a change. Grieving helps us value and appreciate what went before and look forward to what is in store for us.

A few years ago, I had the privilege of taking a class on the Psalms from Dr. Kathleen O'Connor at Columbia Theological Seminary.  I say privilege because Dr. O'Connor loves the Psalms.  Part of the work we were assigned during the class involved choosing a type of psalm (lament, happy, etc.) and writing one of our own.  The assignment elicited an inward groan from me because I knew immediately what sort of psalm I needed to write: a lament.  The idea of writing a lament was on the surface a simple one; yet underneath, an assignment that would pull from me difficult emotions surrounding my life and my relationship with God.

Yet, I wrote my psalm.  It was indeed a lament.  Now, one thing to know about laments: they are fluid; they move from anger and despair through grace and mercy into joy.  I find psalms of lament the most hopeful psalms.  My psalm dealt with the grief I have experienced throughout my life, my ache for understanding the "why," and the ultimate mercy and solace I found in God's presence with me throughout all of it.

In the stanzas of the psalm, I compared grief to being on the beach. However, I took that comparison a step further and wondered if God was indeed the grief itself.  God is often said to be joy and love—why not grief?  If we began to experience our grief as yet one more way of being present with God, would the work be any easier?  Would we be more in touch with the mercy and solace available to us through God's presence?

             Henri Nouwen writes,  

            Jesus, the Blessed One, mourns.  Jesus mourns when his friend Lazarus dies (see John 11:33-36); he mourns when he overlooks the city of Jerusalem, soon to be destroyed (see Luke 19:41-44).  Jesus mourns over all losses and devastations that fill the human heart with pain.  He grieves with those who grieve and sheds tears with those who cry.

             The violence, greed, lust, and so many other evils that have distorted the face of the earth and its people causes [sic] the Beloved Son of God to mourn.   We too have to mourn if we hope to experience God's consolation. 

When Jesus goes to the Temple in Jerusalem and reads scripture, the scripture he reads is from Isaiah 61, verses 1-3:

 The spirit of the Lord God is upon me,

            because the Lord has anointed me;
he has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed,
           to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim liberty to the captives, and release to the prisoners;
to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor,
            and the day of vengeance of our God;
                        to comfort all who mourn;
to provide for those who mourn in Zion—
            to give them a garland instead of ashes,
the oil of gladness instead of mourning,
            the mantle of praise instead of a faint spirit. 
 They will be called oaks of righteousness,
                       the planting of the Lord, to display his glory.

We hear Jesus tell the crowds gathered on the hillside that those who mourn will be comforted (Matthew 5:4). 

We all live our lives in the presence of God/God is always present to the messiness of our lives. Part of what we learn from studying Jesus’ life is that Jesus experienced everything we experience. Jesus lived a human life; was very familiar with the losses and transitions through which we all live.  The reason Jesus' life lessons are so important for us is that they create a sense of familiarity, of understanding, of acceptance—of comfort.  There simply is nothing we can experience with which God has not become intimately acquainted.  God comforts us with presence—just as we comfort those around us with our own presence in times of trouble, in times of grieving. 

Back to grief and the beach—grief is like the waves at the beach, sometimes they roar in from way far out and knock us down, sometimes they sneak in from just a little way out and pull the sand from under our feet, and sometimes what looks like one of those waves that will surely knock us down actually dissipates before it ever reaches us.  If we look at each of these instances of grief and see God as the grief, how does that affect our experience of grief, of God?

Are there times in our journey through grief when we see God coming?  Do we realize our feet are about to be knocked from under us?  How about those times when we think we see God approaching only to feel a certain withdrawal, bringing a sort of disappointment with it.

Through the varying depths and strengths of our experience of grief, God works with us in sorting out our issues, our questions, our needs, our desires.  I have come to accept that God ensures we have what we need to do the work we need to do when we need to do it.  The role we have in this is openness and acceptance.

In looking back at the Psalms class and the practice of writing a lament, I found that the movement from lament through grace into joy was exhilarating.  By writing my own psalm, I realized that I had lived through that movement time and again. In seeing it as such, I saw the hope and comfort which kept me going from a different perspective.  I experienced God as being an active participant and a companion on my journey. 

Indeed, God is the guiding presence in my life which leads me through difficult periods and onto the high beach, safe from the rolling waves, to rest, to be comforted, to heal.  We each have those high beaches in our lives.  God is indeed the power which brings us there.  If God is present with us on those high beaches, then God is also present with us in the waves.

When considering God as actually being the waves of grief at that beach, perhaps we can experience a deeper sense of hope in the midst of our grieving.  When God is so deeply a part of the work we must do, then that work is good work, healing work, growth-inducing work.

Releasing Expectations

Do you ever wonder who you are? Where you pick up the feelings you have about yourself, your abilities as a caregiver, your capabilities to maintain any spiritual practices?

We receive a lot of expectations from those we live with and interact with in our communities. Sometimes those expectations are unrealistic, based on the other party’s ill-informed beliefs about us, about our responsibilities as a caregiver, and about our faith. Most times, those expectations that get unloaded onto our backs say more about the person doing the unloading than anything about us!

Giving up our expectations created by our own fears or the expectations of others created in an atmosphere of non-understanding is hard work. I’m not going to mislead you. This is the sort of work which takes steadfast prayer and listening. This is the sort of work which is aided by journaling, by spiritual reading, by taking good care of ourselves. This is the sort of work for which the spiritual practices we have offered over the last few months have been presented.

Do you have someone in your life whom you trust? Would you consider going to them and asking them to give you permission to just be yourself? I have found that to be an incredibly freeing experience and cherished conversation. The person of whom you ask this needs to be someone who knows you well, someone you know well and trust. The person needs to be someone to whom you listen and take what they say to heart.

It is so important to work out what works for us, whether it is the way in which we behave, the way in which we carry out our caregiving responsibilities, or the way in which we spend time with and get fed by God. The only way we can begin that work is to be ourselves. God has created each of us beautiful, loving, compassionate daughters and sons. God created us in God’s image: a powerful, spiritual being. God who knit us together in our mother’s womb. It is God’s expectations for our behavior, our experience of ourselves as caregivers; and the thoughts of those we trust which matter most.

Being and doing what God has created us to be and do brings a deep joy into our lives. A joy which sustains us in times of crisis. A joy which buoys us in times of sadness. A joy which shines forth from us to give light unto the World.

Be yourself! Trust God to let you know when you need to change. Have faith in your abilities!

Sharing

What follows was sent to me by the Rev. Paul Turner, pastor of Gentle Spirit Christian Church of Atlanta. I found it powerful, yet most of all, humbling. You could say this is my first, and probably only, New Year's resolution.

May we each act on these powerful words as we begin 2010:

Watch the way you talk. Let nothing foul or dirty come out of your mouth. Say only what helps, each word a gift. Don't grieve God. Don't break God's heart. The Holy Spirit, moving and breathing in you, is the most intimate part of your life, making you fit for God. Don't take such a gift for granted. Make a clean break with all cutting, backbiting, profane talk. Be gentle with one another, sensitive. Forgive one another as quickly and thoroughly as God in Christ forgave you.

God's Sky Crane

Have you ever felt like you were being lifted out of a mess by a huge crane? I think of what the construction industry terms "sky cranes" and imagine God being one of those in a spiritual sense. In my previous post, I shared some of my angst lately and I must admit that over the last couple of days God has been sending me helpers, clarifiers, providers of perspective. The funny thing is though I had to be at a place where I would receive those God sent.

Funny that . . . having to be receptive.

What is the key to being receptive? Is being receptive in and of itself a gift from God? I tend to think of the love of God, revealed most fully in Christ, as being the "key." If we choose to take that love into our hearts and souls and minds, does that make us receptive to whatever God wants of us? Isn't taking that love into our hearts a prerequisite for baptism? For when we take that love into our hearts, we submit ourselves to a relationship with Christ. We acknowledge our debt. We make a statement that we are in Christ and Christ is in us.

Baptism has been on my mind a lot lately and the profound nature of its gift. Baptism is an outward sign of an inward receptiveness to God's Love in the World . . . Jesus Christ. We are one with Christ in his death and his resurrection in our baptism. We receive our most intimate visit with the Holy Spirit at our baptism. It is through this visit with the Holy Spirit that we receive our gifts, our call, the purpose of our new life in Christ. We can begin to see the purpose of our lives to this point. We begin to recognize the power and mercy of the Sustainer and Comforter as made known to us. An imprint of that power and mercy is left within our soul. Why? So that when God calls us to be a part of that sky crane, to help pull someone out of a quagmire of doubt and worry and disappointment, we recognize that part of God within that gives us the ability, the words, the arms and shoulders with which to do such compassionate work.

And, it all revolves around being receptive.