Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 40, 54; PM Psalm 51; Ecclus. 34:1-8,18-22; Rev. 13:1-10; Luke 12:13-31
Consider the lilies of the field.
I’ve been avoiding television for the last six months or so. I know, lame. I’ve spent more time playing music, walking, and working on a few personal projects that are more interesting to me than an NCIS rerun. If I’m honest, I’m also avoiding the toxic political rhetoric that gets especially stirred up during an election cycle. I just don’t have the patience for another commercial telling us that the world is going to hell in a handbasket and that electing a particular candidate is our only pathway to hope.
Please don’t get me wrong. Voting is one of the most important things we can do as responsible citizens. My faith, my belief in God, and my commitment to the Baptismal Covenant should shape how I vote. But filling in a bubble on a ballot every couple of years is only one very, very small part of living out those commitments. There is still the matter of how we live every day in between.
I’ve just started reading Allen Levi’s The Last Sweet Mile. As I read, I find myself thinking about how it anticipates Theo of Golden. Written about a decade ago, in The Last Sweet Mile, Levi writes about his brother Gary’s diagnosis with inoperable brain cancer and what unfolds during a year he describes as one of the best of their lives when faced with absolutely devastating news.
I think I’m drawn to the book because it reminds me that even when we cannot control what happens in life, we can remain faithful in our care for each other. And in that care, we begin to glimpse the eternal life God promises. What do we do when we cannot make life look the way we always imagined it would? We love each other. We care for each other. We participate in the kingdom of God wherever we find ourselves. Even in the opening chapters, I’m moved by the simple, deliberate way Gary nurtures community and invites people into moments of wonder with death on the doorstep.
“Consider the lilies of the field.”
Jesus speaks these words to people who have real reasons to worry about tomorrow. He invites them to pause and notice something growing around them. The passage is about wealth and building up storehouses (very applicable today), but how much of our own anxiety is wrapped up on our own security and wellbeing? I’m guessing that is ultimately the principal driver in an election.
Considering the lilies will not answer every anxious question. But perhaps it can help us become still enough to remember whose we are and free enough to give our attention to someone who needs us.
As we move toward next week and elections that feel especially important, perhaps today’s Gospel offers us something to carry with us. Take that responsibility seriously. Then keep living out the faith. Today and every day, we are still called to love one another, care for our neighbors, and show Christ to each other. On Wednesday, there will still be hungry people to feed, lonely people to visit, and broken relationships that need our patience and courage. And there will still be lilies in the field.
John+
Question for Self-Reflection: Where is worry about tomorrow keeping me from noticing God today?