Flammable

Flammable

Our words and actions matter to others.  When the natives in Malta took care of Paul and companions, they had no idea of the recent hardships at sea or the blessings they would receive when the chief’s father and many others were cured of illness. Can we say we are as hospitable in our everyday dealings?

 

The islanders showed us unusual kindness. They built a fire and welcomed us all because it was raining and cold.  Acts 28:2

 

In nature, the careless toss of a match or neglect of a dying campfire can wreak havoc and destruction. That same carelessness with words can cause just as much damage and inflame a person’s emotional state. Today, hurtful rhetoric is everywhere. How do we get past the politics, the hate, the fight mentality? We must start somewhere, one encounter at a time.

 

Some years ago, my husband had to undergo a procedure.  He was afraid and in pain.  When the nurse at the outpatient facility was brusque with his questions and seemingly impatient, he lost his cool and began raising his voice. He became angry and seemed inconsolable, until the head nurse appeared in the doorway and gently pulled him to the back kindly talking him out of his feverish pitch. I thought how understanding she was, how insightful to see beyond his ire to recognize the emotions behind the outburst.

 

I questioned my own responses on other occasions when confronted with irate people and decided then and there I would look beyond the harsh words and return them with gentleness. It’s not always an easy thing to do.  Instead of returning the heat of the fire, I want to return a heart burning with the same love and kindness our Lord has for each of us.

 

My prayer for creation is that we strive to soothe and nurture this earth and each other – and if inevitable fires do ensue, may we focus on new growth arising from the ashes.

 

During the procedure, I penned my thoughts, and the following poem is the fruit of that encounter.

 

Flammable

Incendiary par with war-time evening news,
Coals heaped upon a head already burning-
Caution cries to censor words we choose
That set aflame the limbic system churning.
.
Kind response is water quenching fire –
A touch, a smile can cool the hottest ire.
In the end it’s all about the fear, the pain
That spoken words can soothe like water’s springs or
Aggravate like biting fire’s rain.
.
Partake of introspection if you dare
And count today times you’ve said
“I don’t care.”

 

Copyright 2022 by Paula Veloso Babadi

Oxygen Mask of Spirituality

Oxygen Mask of Spirituality

If you’ve ever flown on an airplane with a child, you know that the flight attendants instruct that, in case of an emergency, you should secure your own oxygen mask before assisting your child. The reason is that you’re no good to your kids if you’re dead.

I’ve heard many people reference this example with respect to self-care. We need to make sure we are healthy, well rested, and cared for so that when we turn to help the other people in our lives, we have more to give them. The same concept applies to our spiritual lives.

Sharing the Gospel is the mission of every Christian. As parents, we are especially tasked to tell God’s story of salvation to our children. This is no small task, and the truth is, if we do not actively seek out our own flow of oxygen to grow in our own faith and relationship with God, we won’t be equipped to help anyone else, even our own kids.

Attending Sunday Mass is obviously the first step, but I believe that is not enough. We also need daily intentional spiritual development time. The trouble is, with our hectic lives and packed schedules, how can we make purposeful time for God?

The answer lies in using the tools and resources other faithful Catholics have created.

Explore what options your local parish has for study and fellowship. There may be a prayer ministry, a women’s group, or a Bible study. Instead of listening to music in the car, turn on a Catholic podcast (if you haven’t listened to it yet, The Bible in a Year podcast will change your life). There are Catholic Bible apps so you can read scripture on the go, and many apps that also have prayers, reflections, and daily readings, like the Hallow and Amen apps.

You can also sign up to get a daily inspirational email from Catholic organizations like Word on Fire or CatholicMom.com. Swap out your secular books with Catholic fiction, and trade Netflix for Formed, which is an online streaming service with shows, reflections, and even content for kids offered for free by the Augustine Institute.

Finally, one of the best and most fulfilling ways to grow closer to Jesus is through Christ-centered friendships. Jesus came to earth as a human so he could talk with and eat with us. When he commissioned his followers, he sent them out two by two (cf. Mark 6:7 & Luke 10:1). We aren’t meant to go it alone! The support and love of a Christ-loving friend can easily nurture and empower you to proclaim the message God has given you to share.

With so many options in this modern, tech-filled world, you will easily find daily ways to grow in your understanding and relationship with God, thereby further equipping you for your mission.

Now go and put on your own oxygen mask of spirituality, because you’re no good to anyone if you’re spiritually dead.

copyright 2022 Maria Riley

 

Learning to Just Be

 

Our lives are often rushed. This summer’s calendar has been packed fuller than any before—trying to get household things done while running children here, there, and everywhere has me feeling rushed and a bit frantic some days. (Leave it to high gas prices to teach me a lesson about slowing down.)

Our daughter has dance class 30 minutes away and, for the past few weeks, to save on gas, we’ve been taking turns staying down near her class instead of driving back home and back again. At least 12 hours of driving has been saved, but that meant we had to find something to do for the two and a half hours while she was in class. My husband and I took turns “experiencing” the nights away from home.

On my first trip, I visited the downtown library that I had never been to yet. It had an underground free parking garage where I could eat my dinner in my car. I took my laptop into the library, but I spent the first 10 minutes wandering around the three floors to see the different areas the library had to offer. There were so many tables near the windows that faced either downtown or a small park. I found one and wrote for almost an hour. I still had time to kill, so then I read the local paper. While I hadn’t brought my water into the library, I noticed food and drinks were not taboo there.

My husband found a metro park where he could sit and eat his dinner and read while watching the fountains and the people. He encountered families, runners, hip hop dancers, and other people just taking breaks from work. During this time, he started reading a book I had already started and ending up finishing it before me because he had so much reading time. It’s the first time that’s ever happened since I’m the faster reader!

One night, I ate at the metro park, but since it was hot, I went into the local coffee shop to spend some time writing. For an hour, I got to write while listening to some great music from the ‘90s. The barista even offered me water to go as I was leaving and was impressed that I was an author. I definitely will go back there.

Another night, I went to Panera right down the street and wrote and wrote and wrote. Then, one night, I was tired and didn’t feel like pulling out the laptop, so I went to a bookstore and browsed.

My husband spent one night reading some, but also listening to the live music they had downtown. Turns out there’s a free concert every Thursday night in the summer.

Through all the nights I spent downtown, I found myself forced to slow down, to find a place and just stay there for a bit. I spent most of my nights away writing. I focused on just doing or enjoying whatever was in front of me. A quiet dinner outside let me focus on the tasty BBQ beef sandwich. A library let me focus on the plot of my novel. You should see how focused I am at a bookstore.

Those nights helped remind me to be where I am, and I started to apply it more at home. I often move from task to task, or even multitask a lot. But I don’t have to rush from one thing to another. I can enjoy making dinner. I can spend time looking at my daylilies. I can sit and listen to a child’s joke. I can just be.

Copyright © 2022 Sarah Anne Carter

Tending The Garden of Your Heart

Kimberly Novak shares heartfelt lessons she learned through the blooming of a Christmas Cactus. 

“The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched; they must be felt within the heart.” Helen Keller

Many instances in our lives make a good argument for Helen Keller’s quote. Take, for example, a baby’s first smile and the soft touch of their little hand in yours. If we go deeper into those connections, we will find that the most intimate emotions are within the heart. In an unexpected example, I considered the many ways we can tend to the garden of our heart and produce a thriving relationship with God.

My mom texted me recently, celebrating that her Christmas Cactus had bloomed. After more than a year with no emerging flowers. Taking notice that the plant was not thriving in its environment, Mom moved it to a different room. “It is happy,” she shared.  I wondered why a Christmas plant would be blooming now in May. The weather is warmer though not quite yet spring-like. Also, this is a “Christmas Plant,” and we are in Easter Season. Intrigued, I powered up the laptop and searched all there was to know about the Christmas Cactus. 

There’s no shortage of information about this unique plant; for example, it is known for endurance and loyalty. Also, I read a Christmas Cactus Legend which goes deeper into what the plant represents. After all of this research, I still couldn’t find out why an adjustment in its environment made the plant happy.

The event and the beautiful change the cactus experienced gave me pause to look at how this relates to a nurturing relationship with God. Plants need specific growing environments, soil consistencies, and various levels of sunlight to achieve their full potential.  As children of God, we can relate. There are multiple ways to measure the growing conditions of our spiritual life, all leading to happiness of the heart.

Temperature plays a significant role in our walk with God. When we are consistent in prayer and our spiritual practices, our longing for God runs hot! Spirituality thrives in this environment.  The rising passion for God then needs to be watered frequently.  It is important not to get to a point where we are dry or overwatered in prayer life.  One can never pray too much; however, it is possible to pray without a feeling of genuine love for God in our hearts. Praying with sincerity from the heart will safeguard your level of spiritual hydration.

Life throws a lot our way, and there will come a day when you don’t feel like spending time with God. Much like a plant with halted growth, this is considered dormancy. A great way to combat this is through spiritual stillness. Prayer, without conscious words, yet in the presence of God. Eucharistic adoration is a beautiful place for worship of this nature and is an excellent preparatory phase for the next step on this journey, making conditions ripe for growth.

Recognizing your prayerful habits and patterns will keep your prayer life lush and abundant. Also, journaling is a great way to chart changes and emotions during your prayerful encounters. Find a way to highlight or mark days of consolation and go back to them when something has you down.  These moments will act as nourishment for your spirit.  

Now, it is time for the light to shine!  With plants, indirect or direct sunlight plays a prominent role in the plant’s growth, texture, and lifespan. It is not much different in our relationship with God when considering God’s light and love as our source. Living in a way that glorifies our Lord allows His light to shine outwardly from us and onto others. It is in God’s light and love where the happiness in our hearts takes hold.  Loving God and feeding on His love is a true expression of Helen Keller’s quote. When we nurture our spirituality before, during, and after blooming, it results in feeling the best and most beautiful things God is offering.

Spring is here, and soon, all will be shopping for the prettiest flowers, blooming plants, and preparing the soil for planting.  I might suggest that in this time, we also consider where we can allow for spiritual growth and how God is calling us to plant the seeds He has given us to share. 

Happy, Holy, and Hopeful Mother’s Day

The beautiful graphic about praying the rosary, attributed to Christ Our Life Catholic Conference, was reposted on their Facebook page by St. Mary’s Church in Humboldt, Iowa, on April 22, 2020.

It appeared there at a time when all of us were still reeling from the shocking onset of the Covid-19 pandemic. Humboldt, along with many other communities in western Iowa, had just been engulfed by overflowing rivers. The people of another St. Mary’s Church in Hamburg, Iowa, were also dealing with the aftermath of devastating spring floods. Unprecedented deluges had destroyed churches and homes in both communities at the same time.

Today, these parishes in the Diocese of Sioux City and the Diocese of Des Moines have been fully restored, with help from all four dioceses in Iowa. This is hope. This is faith and the kind of love St. Paul called charity. This is a fulfillment of God’s promises through Jesus.

“… For in hope we were saved. Now hope that sees for itself is not hope. For who hopes for what one sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait with endurance … And the one who searches hearts knows what is the intention of the Spirit, because it intercedes for the holy ones according to God’s will …” Romans 8:24-25, 27 (https://bible.usccb.org/bible/romans/8#53008027-t).

Our Blessed Mother Mary was chosen as a vessel to help bring these promises to fulfillment on earth.

When I was an RCIA candidate in 1988-1989, my own earthly mother was dying of cancer. My sponsor lent me a prayer book that contained a beautiful image of Mary’s Assumption into heaven. As I explored what devotion to Mary really means, I began to encounter the richness of our Catholic Church’s unbroken traditions.  We honor Jesus’ mother as our loving and prayerful intercessor with God’s Son. He gave her to us, from the cross, to share.

I was raised in a reverent Protestant home, but I now believe that the stripping of Mary’s feminine grace from the liturgical cycles of Christian worship was one of the greatest spiritual errors of the Reformation. In RCIA, I learned that prayers for Mary’s assistance are optional devotions. Yet, they have always been a recognized and approved Catholic practice.

I’ve been blessed with opportunities to walk my own feet on the sacred ground of several Catholic shrines in the United States, South America, and Europe.  I look forward to sharing with you in future CWG Blog posts a few of my adventures, challenges, and lessons learned on those pilgrimages.

In this blessed month of May, children around the world crown Mary as Queen of Heaven and Earth. I hope my reflections offered here this month might help us all to renew our dedication to the power of the Holy Rosary. No matter what we may be facing, we are wrapped in our mother’s mantle, and we are safe in the care of her Immaculate Heart.

Ave Maria.

Copyright 2022, Margaret Zacharia
Rosary Image From COL via St. Mary’s Humboldt IA

Allow No Regrets into your World on Father’s Day

No matter the past, tell him you love him and hug him tight. You do not always get a second chance.

By Larry Peterson

My dad died suddenly during Christmas season of 1965. Yes, a long time ago: December 30, to be exact. Due to that, I have carried a regret inside me for my entire life. I still want a do-over, but it can never happen. Sometimes you just do not get a second chance. And then you live with “if only.” I have been doing that “if only” thing for a long time.

Our mom had passed on a few years earlier. She had just turned forty when leukemia killed her. Dad was crushed and began drinking, It took a few years, but his body rebelled, and he had an acute attack of pancreatitis.

I was the oldest of the five kids and, at the age of twenty, thought I was a lot smarter than I was. I’d had to put college on hold and had been working in construction since high school. We needed the money. I got home from work about six o’clock to find out he had been taken to the hospital that morning.

My sister, Carol, who was home with our younger brothers during Christmas break, had been there. She and a neighbor had taken him. When I walked into our apartment, Johnny, who was the youngest at six, started crying and blurted out, “When is Daddy coming home?” I told them all to take care of each other, and I would be back very soon.

My father was on the third floor in room 317. I was stunned at what I saw. He had a tube coming from his nose that went down into a large bottle on the floor. Brownish-red gunk was draining from inside of him into that bottle. It was disgusting. My gag reflex kicked in. I could not walk over to the bed.

A doctor came up behind me and introduced himself. He was taking care of dad, and he gave me a quick rundown. I was hardly listening. He knew I was nervous, so he said, “Walk in with me.”

I did, and I have no idea what I said to my dad. The doctor began feeling Dad’s belly and looking at his eyes. My father had sky blue eyes, and they were fixed hard on his oldest child. He must have been wondering why his son was standing about five feet away from the bed. I could not speak because I was trying to be grown-up and not throw up.

The doctor left, and some words of twenty-year-old wisdom babbled form my lips about stopping drinking and eating better. He never responded but just kept looking at me. He was scared, and I did not see that. I said, “Okay, Dad, I gotta go. I’ll be back tomorrow.” I had to get out of there.

Walking down Arthur Avenue to the bus stop I turned and looked up at his window. I began to cry. I realized I had never hugged him or said “I love you” or anything. I had just left. He was supposed to be home in a day or two; it would be okay. I could have gone back, but I did not. He died at 3 a.m, scared and alone. Why? Because I was afraid of being embarrassed and throwing up.

There it is. Therein lies my regret: never having said, “I love you” one last time and leaving my own father to die scared and alone in a strange place with strange people. Is that pathetic or what? He had just celebrated his 53rd birthday.

Father’s Day has just passed, and I have some advice to all of you who still have your fathers living. Forget the past; make sure you tell them you love them. If nearby, make sure you hug them. If far away, make sure you call them: no texting and no emailing. The day will come when you have no more second chances. You do not want to live with an “if only.”

Yes — there is a story about the five of us “orphans”: The Priest and the Peaches.

Copyright ©Larry Peterson 2019

The Gift of Red

2008-11-16 021Advent and Christmas were always bright and happy times in my childhood home.  While focus was on preparing for the coming of Christ, mixed in with that anticipation was the fun of decorating.  Red was everywhere and in every room.  My mother made sure our home reflected the joy heralded by the angels of peace on earth and goodwill to all men, with the manger scene a focal point.  We had red plaid table cloths in the dining room and playful elves hanging from every conceivable perch. I came to love the significance of all these bright red and green decorating traditions.

Several years ago, a cardinal perched outside my window one morning. He was a magnificent contrast against the small oak tree in my backyard, and reminded me of my father who faithfully put out black sunflower seeds (the best kind) for the cardinals gracing our home. My mother has kept a stained-glass cardinal on her bedroom window along with a myriad of colored-glass crucifixes, chalices, and other professions of her enduring faith.  She believes that my dad, long gone, signals to her when the cardinals come and visit.

So, my mind wandered the trail of how much the color red permeates our world and how God created so many variations for our delight.  Do you know how many names there are for this color called red?  I didn’t, and so I looked it up and daydreamed about the marvelous range of reds in existence.  But it was the deep scarlet of the cardinal that led me on a path to remember our Savior, not at His birth but at His redemptive sacrifice – and through my father – His teachings from the Sermon on the Mount.  At the end of the trail, one thing was crystal clear to me, one realization that I needed at the time; Jesus loves me , all of us, beyond our imagining, beyond all else in this created world.  I marvel at God’s wisdom in creating a small bird with such power to move the human heart, to lift our spirits toward heaven, and to give me memories of my devout parents.

The following poem was born from the gift of red given to me through inspiring parents.  What memories bring  warmth and comfort to you?  Feel free to share special holiday memories or traditions.

Cardinal Red

More than poinsettias and red curly-ribboned Christmas gifts,
more than glossy lacquered lines of red candy apples in the window,
more than clumsy Crayola-red shapes on a toddler’s first piece of art,
more than sumptuous strawberry-red berries begging to be tasted,
more than the competent clarity of fire engine reds racing to rescue,
the deep scarlet cardinal captures me
in the fleeting seconds of his landing,
in the sound of his song,
in the almost imperceptible rising and falling of his splendid chest.
He breathes life and bleeds red,
as red as the drops of blood2008-11-16 022
falling from our Savior’s wounds
and causes me to remember my father
quoting Matthew 6:26 from his red Douay-Rheims
“ Behold the birds of the air, for they neither sow,
nor do they reap, nor gather into barns;
and your heavenly Father feedeth them.
Are not you of much more value than they?”
In this cardinal red moment,
the two hundred and eighty four other shades
referenced in books
cannot compare.

 

 

Remembering Alzheimer’s Patients and their Caregivers

"Alzheimer's Patient" by Gelonida (Own work) [GFDL or CC BY 3.0], via Wikimedia Commons

“Alzheimer’s Patient” by Gelonida (Own work) [GFDL or CC BY 3.0], via Wikimedia Commons

Remembering Alzheimer’s Patients
and their Caregivers

The poem below is NOT from an unknown author, as the graphic indicates. The writer of the poem is Owen Darnell. I am certainly not looking to NOT give credit where credit is due. Thank you, Mr. Darnell–your poem was a great comfort to me and others who have lived with Alzheimer’s patients on a 24/7 basis.

Image may contain: text

 Copyright 2017 Larry Peterson

Maybe I’m Amazed

By Janice Lane Palko

Do you collect anything? Aside from the occasional Christmas ornament I pick up whenever I travel to a new destination, I don’t collect anything material. However, I do have a collection of intangible treasures that I regard as priceless.

One gem is the first time I saw a shooting star. I was probably eleven years old, and we were at a picnic playing hide and seek. As the call of “Olly olly oxen free” went up, I emerged from my hiding place to run across a dark field to home base, when on the horizon before me, a shooting star streaked across the sky. I was so amazed by the sight that I stopped short and stood in the black field with my mouth gaping in awe.

Another gem I collected twelve years ago while on a cruise in the Caribbean with my family. It was that magical time of day when it’s still light but the sun is sinking and everything drips with melting gold. There were several other ships in port in St. Maarten with us, and as evening drew near, one-by-one the ships left for the open sea. The water was flat and the wind was nil. As my dad and I stood at the rail on the upper deck, we watched as each ship sailed into the setting sun. But what I will never forget is how each of their wakes left a golden filigree on the placid surface of the sea for miles.

I picked up another treasure several years ago while on another cruise–this time near Mexico. After spending the afternoon in port, we came back to our room to recuperate before getting ready for dinner. While my husband and son lounged in our cabin, I went out onto the small veranda off our room, sat in the lounge chair, and closed my eyes to relax. As I was dozing, I was awakened by the sound of several shipmates on the decks above and below me shouting, “Whale!” I glanced to my right, and there beside the ship was this enormous whale leaping out of the ocean. I couldn’t get to my feet fast enough to open the cabin door and yell, “Come quick. There’s a whale!” As my family watched this sleek whale put on a show, I looked above and below us. Hundreds of passengers had gathered on the verandas of the various decks. There were so many people lining the rails on this side of the ship, it was a wonder we didn’t tip.

Just last month, I added a new treasure to my collection. We had tickets to see U2 at Pittsburgh’s Heinz Field. It was rather chilly for June. And cloudy, but that is not unusual for Pittsburgh. We had cheap seats, high in the upper deck, but as they gave a glorious view of Pittsburgh’s skyline, I didn’t mind sitting up that high. But what really impressed me was something that happened moments before U2 took the stage. Although it was not raining anywhere in sight, a red rainbow formed over the field and terminated above where the group would soon appear. Now, I’ve seen many rainbows, but this was unusual because there was no precipitation and because you could not see any other colors of the spectrum but red against the leaden sky.

Red Rainbow

It seemed that everyone saw the phenomenon at once as a gasp arose from the crowd and thousands of cell phones were held aloft to capture the beautiful sight. The red rainbow stayed for several minutes, and then before it faded, it cast its light on the surrounding clouds turning them a rosy pink. Sure, U2 was good, but I’ll never forget that red rainbow.

I can’t remember where I read this, but someone once observed that humans are continuously fascinated by God’s handiwork but easily become bored with things made by human hands. Case in point. If you grew up during the 1960s and 70s, you may remember the nation’s fascination with the space program. People clustered around their televisions to watch Neil Armstrong walk on the moon, but with each successive trip into space, less and less people paid attention. Yet, people never get bored with watching something as simple as a sunset.

Why does that happen? Clearly, there is something embedded in the human soul that longs for the Divine. The summer provides us with more opportunities to be out in nature and to observe God at work in His creation. Keep your eyes open. It may be something as simple as a hummingbird buzzing your garden or as spectacular as bioluminescent ocean waves pounding a beach or the flash of the Northern Lights that give you a glimpse of His glory. You never know what treasure He may cast before you that will spark your sense of amazement and that will become a cherished addition to your treasure chest.

It’s Perfect – Not!

By Janice Lane Palko

It was Father’s Day weekend thirty-one years ago. Married only a couple of years, my husband and I had moved into our first house that previous January. We’d spent that spring painting, wallpapering—the things you do to get a home into shape. On Saturday of that weekend, I’d cleaned the whole house while my husband had spent the day outside trimming hedges, weeding, and cutting grass in anticipation of a Father’s Day picnic for both sides of our family—the first event in our first home.

As we called it a day, I remember looking at our neatly manicured lawn and gleaming house and thinking, “Everything is perfect.”

Then the phone rang at 7:04 a.m. Who calls that early on a Sunday morning? I thought as my husband rolled over and answered it. When I saw the color drain from his face, I knew something was terribly wrong. He hung up and stared blankly at me, too stunned to show any emotion. “That was my mom. Tommy’s been killed in a motorcycle accident.” Tommy was his twenty-three-year-old little brother.

We’d anticipated a Father’s Day picnic filled with fun and laughter. Instead, we were now faced with death, identifying a body at the morgue, and making funeral arrangements.

So much for perfection.

Flash forward to June seven years later. I’m sitting in a counselor’s office after suffering for months with panic attacks. “From what I’ve observed,” the kind therapist said, “You are very hard on yourself. You need to allow yourself to be human. You think you have to be perfect.”

As you can see, my dance with perfection has been filled with missteps. From Tommy’s death, I learned that life is not perfect and never will be, and through my joust with anxiety, I learned that I am not perfect and never will be.

So, how does someone who’s had these types of reality checks with perfection square them with Jesus’s words in Matthew’s Gospel where He instructs us to “Be perfect just as your heavenly Father is perfect.”

To a perfectionist, His words area a recipe for disaster. You may have heard the adage “Perfection is the enemy of the good.” Well, when we perfectionists get rolling, we tend to discount anything, however good, that does not meet our level of perfection. We get tangled up in being immaculate. I’ve worked hard not to be a perfectionist, so when I came across that bit of scripture again recently, I, once again, reacted to it with disregard and confusion—not a good way to react to scripture.

I know perfection is impossible and shouldn’t even be pursued lest I become paralyzed in my quest to be flawless. There is no perfection on this side of eternity. I know I cannot be perfect, I made myself sick trying. Why would Jesus impose such an impossible directive on those He loves?

Ah, but I’ve also come to learn that when Jesus commands us to do something, He always promises to provide us with the grace to achieve it. His words in John’s Gospel provide the key. “Apart from me you can do nothing.” Apart from Him, I cannot reach perfection. Apart from Him, the world wallows in sin and destruction. Perfection in the way Jesus means is a work of transformation and something for me not to achieve but to surrender to. Through Jesus and His act of redemption, we reach perfection. Paul in his letter to Philippians gives us this assurance: “I am confident of this, that the one who began a good work in you will continue to complete it until the day of Christ Jesus.”

I’ve learned that Jesus is working on me, and that sounds absolutely perfect to me.

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