The Legacy of Pope Francis

 

I’ve been following the funeral proceedings for, and conversations about, Pope Francis. As a lifetime Protestant, I don’t know a lot about Catholicism, but I know enough to understand he was an exceptional Pope. It seemed to me that his defining character was love, especially for the outcasts of the world. When you look at Jesus’ life and example, when you read the New Testament, you see the defining characteristic of all Christians should be love. Unfortunately, many of us miss the mark.

Some Protestants question whether Catholics are Christian, and vice versa. There are a lot of differences in practice and tradition, this is for sure. At the core, we all believe the same thing, Jesus Christ, equally man and God, came and died for the sins of the world and rose again defeating death and sin. Beyond that, the differences really don’t matter, unless they overshadow the core tenets. As to that, both Protestants and Catholics struggle with letting the peripheral issues outshine the core. Neither group is above that. The fact is, both groups came out of the first churches, with Protestants splintering off centuries later. We come from the same roots.

One of the biggest struggles all Christians have is with judgment, something we are warned in the New Testament not to do. Whether someone is a Christian or not is ultimately God’s concern, not ours. Certainly there are markers a Christian should have in their life, but none of us can see into another’s heart. Since all of us remain sinners the entirety of our lives, oft times that sin can cover up a heart that was given to Christ.

How can that be? Well, it isn’t sin that keeps someone from becoming a Christian. That is a common misunderstanding about Christianity. Christ died on the cross taking on the sin of the world. He died in our place. God accepted his sacrifice, with the resurrection proof of that acceptance. The New Testament teaches that we have all been forgiven for our sins! That is the good news! The question isn’t ‘what sins have I committed’; it’s what have I done with the gift of Christ’s sacrifice in my place? Have I accepted His gift? If so, that is what it means to be a Christian. A Christian isn’t someone who has stopped sinning, because we really can’t do that. Certainly we should get better at not sinning as we give more control of our life to God, but we will never, in this life, be free of sin. It’s our nature. But the forgiveness for sin is already complete, finished, one time for all on the cross.

The New Testament does give some markers of a true Christian. We should be bearing God’s fruit – love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness and self-control. Love, above all, should be a characteristic of our life. Part of unconditional love is accepting people as they are, not as we want them to be. If Jesus died for all, then all have been forgiven. Most just don’t know they are forgiven, let alone accepted the gift of God’s forgiveness. Ultimately, when we stand before God, it won’t be what we’ve done or haven’t done that “gets us into heaven”. It will solely be based on whether we accepted God’s gift or not. But, the Bible does say we will account for our use of that gift while on earth. Have we reflected God’s character in our life or not? Have we loved? Are there people we think are beyond the pale and don’t deserve our time or energy?

I’ve written before about God’s unconditional love. It’s the love that enables Him to forgive all of us. But that doesn’t mean He turns a blind eye to sin. Sin has consequences every day in our lives. And God’s hatred of sin is why it took such an expensive cost to remove sin’s power from our lives. It cost Jesus his life, in our place. God’s love and wrath met on the cross and were satisfied. It doesn’t mean we are now free to just go about enjoying sin – if Christ is in our life, if we have accepted His gift of forgiveness, our lives should reflect a difference, imperfect, but different.  Otherwise we make a mockery of the extremes He went through to save us. I am a sinner, saved by God’s grace, but everyday my goal should be to be more like Christ

Pope Francis exuded God’s love. He upset a lot of people by loving people many of his fellow Catholics felt shouldn’t be loved, at least to the extent Pope Francis loved. And as Pope, he wasn’t afraid to speak out against the injustices he saw in the world around him. He called on Christians everywhere to do something about that. He called on us to love the people around us, to reach out and make a difference, to show Christ in our behavior towards others.  That is exactly what Jesus did. He embraced the outcasts around Him – tax collectors, women, lapsed Jews, Gentiles, to name a few. And Jesus spoke out against those who criticized Him for “eating with sinners”. Jesus’ life on earth was all about compassion and acceptance. Pope Francis lived that same life.

In this sense, it’s fair to point out inconsistencies in those around us claiming to be Christian and yet showing very little acceptance, love and compassion of those around them.  The writer James in the New Testament says Christians can be known by their fruit, by what they do and how they do it. I think a lot of people believe that being a Christian means you have very little tolerance toward people who are a different color, or belief, or gender or sexuality. The fruit they bear is a total lack of compassion and grace towards anyone they disprove of. People outside of Christianity see this fruit and think, “Ah, there is a Christian”.

But this isn’t the fruit of Christianity. True Christian fruit is the opposite. Just look at Jesus’ life and you will see this is true. Christians are to be followers of Christ, to live Christ-like lives. Christ never lacked compassion towards people. The only people who drew His righteous anger were the religious leaders of his day. And He was angry because they had passed judgement on groups of people they felt were not worthy of God’s kingdom and love. Jesus came to make us all worthy (even those religious leaders), but sometimes, like those leaders, we can become blinded and think we are not the ones who need saving. An unfortunate conclusion indeed.

I am so thankful for Christians on the frontlines, like Pope Francis, who show the world there is another way to view Christianity. True Christians, though still flawed and able to make gigantic mistakes, are people who humbly believe their salvation isn’t earned. It’s a free gift that they have accepted. And now that they have this gift, their desire is to be more like the One who gave it. This means bearing Christ’s fruit in their lives – love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness and self-control. 

What will our legacy be when we die? 

 

Easter 2025

 

I’ve been thinking about Easter all week, not just because this is Holy Week, but because of what the day means. I have a dear friend whose father is dying. He has told everyone he is not afraid; in fact he is excited to get to Heaven. He wants his family to celebrate. That is only possible because they believe in the meaning of Easter. Easter is the day Christians celebrate the resurrection of Jesus, after his death on the cross. We believe he died as a substitute for us, paying our penalty for sin. God honored his sacrifice, accepted his for ours, and raised him from the dead on that first Easter. This is the hope of all Christians, that because of Jesus’ death and resurrection, they will be with him in heaven when they die.

Sounds pretty crazy to people who do not believe. Easter to most is about celebrating spring with cute bunnies, chicks, eggs and chocolate. Lots of people celebrate Easter, but most don’t know the true meaning of the day. I wrote before about the lady in the Hallmark aisle remarking how Christians have even taken this holiday. J Actually, Christians should own it.

A year ago I celebrated Easter with my entire family, my siblings and nephew. Our sister was very ill, but having a pretty good day. The sun was out, and we went about the day as if very little had changed, when in reality, everything had changed. In just a couple of months she would no longer be with us. It was a last celebration. But even sitting there, trying to be brave, all of us believed with everything we had, that she’d celebrate upcoming holidays at the very source, Heaven. Like my friend’s father, that is cause for celebration.

As a lover of most anything chocolate and also a collector rabbits (though not live ones), the secular Easter trappings mean a lot too. As kids we would boil and decorate eggs. Mom would put together elaborate Easter baskets to keep us happy through a long, seemingly endless, Easter day. We started with sunrise service, followed by Easter pancake breakfast in fellowship hall, followed by Sunday school and church service. To keep us going, we received those baskets between breakfast and Sunday school. In addition to the usual candy and stuffies, there were always what we called real presents. A toy or a book or something more. That tradition continued in our family long beyond mom’s journey to Heaven. We continued to exchange gifts on Easter. Last year my sister had her husband get us all succulent plants that I’m still mostly keeping alive in my window. I gave her a bag to use to carry things to chemotherapy, with family pictures on it.

This year those of us remaining are all spread apart. I realized for the first time in my life I will not be celebrating Easter with any family beyond my husband. Weird. It feels different, but it shouldn’t. Because all of the fun and sharing and eating isn’t really Easter, is it? Easter is just a day to mark an extraordinary event in history that for Christians is THE moment. That moment is part of our everyday lives not just one day in the year. For my sister and my friend’s father, and many other Christians approaching death, Easter is right there with them, the promise of new life in Heaven, because Jesus lives.

Years ago a friend of ours had some Japanese exchange students staying with her. As Easter approached, they asked her questions about the holiday’s significance. So she told them about Jesus, his crucifixion, burial and resurrection. As she told the story and came to the women who went to the tomb and first found it empty, she realized it probably sounded a lot like another story “They came to the grave, saw the stone rolled away from the entrance, and then the groundhog came out, saw his shadow and knew spring would arrive later than usual.”  No disrespect intended to Jesus or groundhogs, but as I’ve said many times, to those who have never heard, it does sound crazy. And yet, some of us not so crazy people believe it to be true. And what those women saw in the garden that morning wasn’t the groundhog, but Jesus, alive and well, resurrected.

Historically, a man named Jesus died in Jerusalem during Passover week 2000 years ago. Even skeptical historians believe there was a teacher named Jesus who was crucified, probably because he was suspected of leading a rebellion. That man was buried. We are told the rulers put a heavy stone in front of the grave and posted guards. But somehow, when the women arrived, the stone was rolled away, the guards were gone and the tomb was empty. Very few people have disputed that fact either. They give a variety of reasons for the emptiness – disciples stole the body and lied about the resurrection, even that he wasn’t really dead when buried; he only swooned. But people didn’t live to share their crucifixion experience. It was cruelly designed to kill. If, after a certain point, you were still alive, they ran a spear through you to hurry the business along. No, Jesus was dead. And as for the body being stolen, what purpose would that serve and how long could those disciples keep that a secret?  And what of all the people who saw Jesus alive after the fact? And why, if they did keep the conspiracy quiet, were they all so willing to die for their lie?  Historically, Jesus died. Historically the tomb is empty. Considering the other options, Christians choose to believe He rose from the dead.

 Paul wrote in I Corinthians 15 that if this event didn’t happen, if Jesus is still in that, or some, grave, then we (Christians) are to be pitied, because our faith is futile. But because He lives, those who believe can have hope for tomorrow, regardless what it brings. Romans 8 ends with an amazing statement about how nothing can separate us from the love of God – death, life, recessions, presidents, storms – nothing can separate us, because of what Jesus did that first Easter.

Happy Easter!  Jesus is risen! He is risen indeed!

What Are You Doing?

 

Since retiring, the favorite conversation starter seems to be, “what are you doing now you are retired? To add to this is the perceived expectation that you are doing something amazing.  I say “perceived” because the asker may not be thinking that at all, but I think that’s what they are thinking. Why? Is it because I think I should be doing something amazing? Maybe not amazing, but at least worthwhile or a bit adventurous. What I have been doing feels far short of expectation.

Yet, I am enjoying having few expectations. I enjoy not having to meet someone else’s schedule. I really enjoy not having to be up and to work on Monday mornings. I love not having to wait until weekends to take a trip, even if the trips have been close to home, no African safari in sight. My days are still full of household duties – meal planning, shopping and fixing, laundry, bathroom cleaning – but I don’t have to wait until the weekend. My husband and I were talking today about how it seems the main items we have to schedule around are doctor’s appointments.

But the question of ‘what are you doing’ does haunt me a bit. I want to make good use of my time, and I’m not so sure I am doing that. I’m a work in progress.

Jesus told a parable about a man who went on a journey and left his three servants responsible for his estate. He divided up “talents” or money amongst them, giving each a different amount.  Two of the men put the money to work and made more. One man hid his portion away, afraid to mess up.  Time passes and one day the man returned. He called in his servants and ask for an accounting of what he’d left in their care. The two men who had put their portion to work had doubled their amount. The one who hid his portion away only had the original to show.

The man who hid his portion away was scared to make a mistake, to lose the boss’ money. But the story seems to be teaching that he needn’t be afraid of trying, the man wanted his servants to put what they had out there, to do something with it. The real crime of the third man was not even trying.

Why weren’t the other two afraid of failure? I think because they knew their boss very well. They knew he wanted them to be doing something with what he had entrusted them. If they failed, they had confidence he would understand. I don’t think they had carte blanche to do whatever reckless plan they envisioned, but the main thing was not to let things sit idle. The inference is the third man didn’t really know his boss. He was afraid to fail, afraid of what the boss would do if he did fail. And his worst fears became a self-fulfilling prophecy.

A question that arises from this story is what was it the man gave his servants? Money? Probably. The older translations of the Bible used the term “talents”, so people have taken that to mean whatever special gifts we might have. I recently read another way of looking at this story. Not everyone has money to share. Some people feel they don’t have any special talents either. Are we to take the story literally and assume we were left out of God’s giving assignments if we don’t have money or talents? But what do we all have, regardless of where we live or the resources we have? We all have a life. Maybe that is what we are to be investing, our lives for God’s purpose.

This story speaks to me. I have been given a lot, what am I doing with it?  I may not have some grand scheme, but am I doing anything with what I’ve been given? The “what” isn’t as important as the “doing” – if that doing is to extend God’s Kingdom in my world. Sharing what I have been given is a huge part of that extension. Writing this blog. Spending time with the people in my life. Opening my doors and heart to those around me.

Maybe most important is looking for ways to invest my life. How am I spending my life? I don’t think I am just to share the resources I have. I need to share myself.  How open am I when someone asks for help? Or when I recognize a need? How openhanded am I with my time and resources? With my life?

There was a time when I viewed phone calls and unexpected visitors as interruptions. When I was working in a church it seemed I was always being “interrupted”, especially by the phone.  I was convicted to stop perceiving these calls and visits as interruptions. Once I began to view them as opportunities, or even better, surprises prompted by God, I had my eyes opened to a whole new world of ministry. This didn’t change when I began teaching school. My few minutes before class or my lunch hour were precious minutes to get some work done or have some downtime, and then someone would walk in wanting/needing to talk. I had to relearn how to see this as opportunities to share my life, after all, it really wasn’t my time to own in that way. So many times those unexpected visits would turn into the most special moments of the day, if I was openhanded with the time.

So, which servant am I, the one who dared spend his master’s gift, or the one who hid it away? One of my favorite poets, Mary Oliver, once asked in her poem A Summer Day, “Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”

 

Oliver, Mary. New and Selected Poems. Beacon Press, Boston MA. 1992.

Just One Of Those Weeks

 

I’ve been thinking a lot about grief this week. Don’t let me scare you off, I don’t mean this to be morbid. The fact is the intensity of grief comes and goes, and, for me, this week it came. It hasn’t been a year since I lost my sister, so the pain of the loss still is strong. She has been on my mind, where we were year ago, and how a year ago she was still in my world. It’s not easy to let go.

My dad has been gone for twenty years. This week I let go of something I’d been holding on to for all those years. I just couldn’t part with it. A friend shared that letting go of even the little things is like more and more of them disappear, and for me, this really was the last concrete thing.

Yet, he hasn’t disappeared. He‘s still very much a part of my life in how I think and reason. My dad was a great mentor, and who I am today is in no small part thanks to his mentoring. I remember one time him and my uncle feeling a bit sorry for themselves and wondering if they’d made a dent in the world. I was so surprised to hear them talk that way. Their legacy shown all around them, least of which were their children. I reminded them of that. And it’s true, my cousins and my siblings are very much a part of the legacy they left behind.

But I still wish he was here. He was my go to person for life wisdom. I didn’t always like or appreciate his responses, but overall they were pieces of helpful guidance. I miss having him here as a sounding board. My keeping that piece of him didn’t make any difference in that, I just couldn’t let go of it. It wasn’t even really a choice I was aware of; I just held on.

After letting go, though feeling lighter, I still feel sad. Grief is like that. It can come up and pinch you out of nowhere. It can quickly turn laughter into tears.  It’s like a cloud rolling in on an otherwise sunny day. It’s something we all share when someone we love is gone, but we share it differently. And though people will tell you otherwise, grief stays on, never fully going away. It gets better, that I know, but it never leaves.

 It’s also different with each person we lose, which I find very interesting. We have a different relationship with everyone, so it shouldn’t be surprising our grief aligns with that relationship dynamic. We miss what they were to us – mentor, friend, lover, confidant, parent, sibling. And so each loss reflects that. When my mother was dying, my dad pointed out how he saw each of our relationships with her. I was amazed by his insight. We each held a different place for her. It wasn’t like favorites, or best – it was just different. So my loss of mom was going to be different than my siblings because of my place in her life.

Then our own personalities come in to play. Some of us wear our hearts on our sleeves, some of us wear a stiff upper lip. Some of us have to talk about what we are going through to process it. Some of us just want to be left alone. Some of us stuff in our emotions and hope they will just go away.  Some of us seem to get over the worst of it more quickly than others. Some of us make judgements about how long someone seems to be “wallowing in their grief”. That’s the cruelest judgment. Who put a time limit on loss? And who are we to judge another’s process?

This week my sister and my dad were “haunting me”. I call it that because it’s like suddenly they are there, bearing down on my awareness. I know they are both enjoying health and joy in Heaven, so there is no need for them to literally be haunting me. I don’t believe in ghosts as such. It’s me who feels their lack of presence here in my word, not them coming back to bug me. Countless times I want to text my sister and tell her something. I wanted to tell her about letting go of that silly thing this week. And I can’t. I can talk about it here and with my chosen family and friends. I am certainly not alone, I just don’t have her.

My faith gives me peace and confidence that someday I will join them. In the meantime, I’ll have some difficult days and weeks missing them. I view my letting go this week as another step in the 20 year process of grieving my father. That page is finished, but now I turn another. Grief is funny like that.

The family I have lost I loved deeply.  I think that grief shows the depth of that love. We grieve because they were so integral to our life, and now we have to learn to live a different life without them. Change is never easy, and this change in particular because it hurts, sometimes physically. This week was one of those weeks.