You can scan the news any time; the most obvious conclusion, though not necessarily helpful, is, "Everything is terrible." Sin, tragedy, alienation, death, and destruction are just a typical Friday.
I was praying a Chaplet of Divine Mercy last night for a guy with cancer I heard about. The Chaplet is an amazing prayer. And as I started to think about what we were saying, it bowls me over still. Father, we plead the all-sufficient merit of Your Son. If that won't help us, nothing will.
If you're suffering, I can't tell you how to feel that, or to get through it. I do know that I am not afraid of dying. I was kind of taunting the devil after a fashion in prayer the other day, in that it came to me in this way: What's the worst you can do to me, kill me? Do you understand, my friends? Our souls are eternal. These bodies will die, but we will not.
It sneaks up on some people, because of the pride of life. The evil one loves death in this world, because it hurts us and distracts us. We're separated from our loved ones, touched by grief to our very core. We know it's brutal and horrible, because Jesus wept for Lazarus his friend who died, knowing he'd raise him from the dead in the next moment. Death is so wrong that Jesus Himself couldn't endure it for two minutes, for all we know. Think on that. Yeah, you should cry. What else would you do?
Sin really is a confession of belief of life in this world only. This is why wicked sinners either avoid funerals, or turn them into parties. Belief in the general, bodily resurrection is dangerous, you see. We're all taking a risk, you know. Any one of us could be a goat, when he sorts the whole thing out. The last thing I want to do is frighten you inordinately, but my main point is, look Jesus in the eye and level with him now. There is no second exit interview.
Amy Madigan plays "Annie," the wife of "Ray," in the film Field of Dreams, a gospel story where the Good News is baseball. Ray is trying to decide whether to follow supernatural promptings, and in an effort to stop him, she says, "...we could lose this farm." Since I've seen it a hundred times, I can tell you, that line rings a little hollow, like her heart's not in it, or that the antagonists, supernatural or otherwise, are simply offering, "C'mon, be practical!" Ray sees through it, and so does Annie. The devil is like the bankers and Annie's brother, saying, "Wouldn't it be nice to stay here, be normal, and do what you like?"
It's not that the pleasures of this life have no reality at all, but they do make us forget that we are but a breath, and that how we live here is how we will live in the world to come.
The difference between mercy and "God as cosmic Oprah" (no offense) is that mercy draws us into making things right. It's pride that forgets and denies wrong. The mercy of Jesus is so powerful, because it changes enemies into friends. We can become agents of love and reconciliation, even if we have been agents of chaos and destruction.
I was praying a Chaplet of Divine Mercy last night for a guy with cancer I heard about. The Chaplet is an amazing prayer. And as I started to think about what we were saying, it bowls me over still. Father, we plead the all-sufficient merit of Your Son. If that won't help us, nothing will.
If you're suffering, I can't tell you how to feel that, or to get through it. I do know that I am not afraid of dying. I was kind of taunting the devil after a fashion in prayer the other day, in that it came to me in this way: What's the worst you can do to me, kill me? Do you understand, my friends? Our souls are eternal. These bodies will die, but we will not.
It sneaks up on some people, because of the pride of life. The evil one loves death in this world, because it hurts us and distracts us. We're separated from our loved ones, touched by grief to our very core. We know it's brutal and horrible, because Jesus wept for Lazarus his friend who died, knowing he'd raise him from the dead in the next moment. Death is so wrong that Jesus Himself couldn't endure it for two minutes, for all we know. Think on that. Yeah, you should cry. What else would you do?
Sin really is a confession of belief of life in this world only. This is why wicked sinners either avoid funerals, or turn them into parties. Belief in the general, bodily resurrection is dangerous, you see. We're all taking a risk, you know. Any one of us could be a goat, when he sorts the whole thing out. The last thing I want to do is frighten you inordinately, but my main point is, look Jesus in the eye and level with him now. There is no second exit interview.
Amy Madigan plays "Annie," the wife of "Ray," in the film Field of Dreams, a gospel story where the Good News is baseball. Ray is trying to decide whether to follow supernatural promptings, and in an effort to stop him, she says, "...we could lose this farm." Since I've seen it a hundred times, I can tell you, that line rings a little hollow, like her heart's not in it, or that the antagonists, supernatural or otherwise, are simply offering, "C'mon, be practical!" Ray sees through it, and so does Annie. The devil is like the bankers and Annie's brother, saying, "Wouldn't it be nice to stay here, be normal, and do what you like?"
It's not that the pleasures of this life have no reality at all, but they do make us forget that we are but a breath, and that how we live here is how we will live in the world to come.
The difference between mercy and "God as cosmic Oprah" (no offense) is that mercy draws us into making things right. It's pride that forgets and denies wrong. The mercy of Jesus is so powerful, because it changes enemies into friends. We can become agents of love and reconciliation, even if we have been agents of chaos and destruction.
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