All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation: that God was reconciling the world to himself in Christ, not counting people’s sins against them. And he has committed to us the message of reconciliation. (2 Cor. 5:18-19)
Hello, my friends!
Last week I visited one of my favorite places on earth. It is an abbey in the high desert of Valyermo called St. Andrews. It is a thin place for me where the veil between this world and God’s kingdom feels transparent. Over the years, I feel like God has met me in this place, spoken directly to my heart, and drawn near when I have felt empty or needed comfort. For me, it has become such a sacred space.
Not that this occurs every time I visit. It doesn’t. And sometimes that has proven disappointing. I’ve thought, “God this would be the perfect time to show up,” only to experience God’s silence. But the manifesting of His presence is never formulaic. The Spirit of God is like a wind. And when it does come, He often catches me by surprise.
This last week God did just that. I was sitting in the chapel during Mass, which always causes some mixed emotions. I love the sacredness of how Catholics serve the Eucharist but am always a little saddened not to be included. I sit as an observer longing to participate. But there is an option…to come forward with arms crossed and receive a blessing. But if I’m being honest, it has always felt like I’m receiving less. And often my disappointment becomes a form of resistance in my heart, and I don’t go forward.
But this time I did. Not because of any inward decision of my own will, but out of a distinct nudge and a feeling of conviction that I was supposed to. And so I did. And as I approached the priest and crossed my arms I closed my eyes. I heard him quietly murmur a prayer of blessing and I strained to hear his words. And as he finished, I felt his thumb touch my forehead and I felt that current of God’s love hit me like an unexpected wave. It came in a rush and then, just as quickly subsided.
And as I staggered back to my seat I felt so moved by the gesture itself. Because there is so much commonality of faith between that priest and myself. We both love and have given our lives to serving Jesus. And yet little differences and distinctions can so quickly become walls and create chasms that keep us apart or divided. And these divisions seem to be multiplying in every sphere of our lives each day, like a chip in a windshield that spiders out its threads of brokenness.
And as the chasms between sides widen, I wonder how we can ever bridge the divide. Who is going to reach across the aisle? How can we mend the wounds? And the reassurance I came away with is that this is our job. We are the reconcilers. This is the assignment we’ve been given. To reach a hand of blessing towards those from whom we’ve felt divided. To see the dignity in each heart instead of the distinctions. To extend a hand of blessing not with our meager love alone, but with a love that surpasses our comprehension.
This power is there, and not merely for us to possess, but for us to give away. And the healing work that needs to be done has been entrusted to us. And to feel it we must stand in the gap. To stand in the aisle and reach out to those from whom we’ve grown estranged. And when we do, we experience more fully this love, not merely for them, but us. All of us. A world being reconciled to God Himself.