Parables and Intimacy with God

(the following is a "homilette" given on Monday in the 17th Week in Ordinary Time, July 28th, 2014)

As we have seen in our Gospel readings for the past couple of weeks, Jesus utilizes parables to speak of the Kingdom of Heaven. This use of parables is in line with Jewish tradition, as is evidence in our first reading tonight.

If you look at Jeremiah's command about the loincloth (Jer. 13:1-11), you can easily see that this command worked as a parable. It was as if the LORD said: “The people of Israel is like a man who goes and buries his loincloth, and after many months, comes back to retrieve it to find it rotten and unusable.”

What's more, these parables use everyday things and common sense to point to the truth of God and of humanity's goal of eternal life. With Jeremiah, God shows us how close he is to us, and how important it is not to neglect our relationship with Him; with the parable of the mustard seed and the yeast (Mt. 13:31-35), we see that this same God works within us to create greatness, but must be found to be so close to us, so intimate with us, that in the end there is no distinction between our wills and His.

These parables show us that Our God is not a garment we can easily discard; He is not a seed that can germinate without being planted in the soil of our souls, and He is not yeast that can enliven the dough of our humanity without being kneaded deep into our hearts.

They show us that Our God wants nothing less from than our all, and He wants nothing less for us than perfection.

With that knowledge before us, are we willing to cling intimately to Him? Are we willing to receive his grace in our souls? Are we willing to bury His Love deep into our hearts?

If we are, He will take us on this journey of life from the foundations of this world to the very gates of glory.

 

 

 

What will you ask for?

(The following is a homily given on the 17th Sunday in Ordinary Time, July 27th, 2014)

Imagine for a moment, that someone were to come to you and tell you:

“Ask something of me, and I'll give it to you” (I Kings 3) – Anything;
just ask and its yours.

What would you ask for?

Typically the answer to that depends on where we have placed our allegiance, so to speak.  It could be God; it could be money; it could be health or power or relationships – you name it. 

We're a people with many choices before us. 

Whatever we choose, though, we know in some way, it will reflect our desire for what it good, beautiful, and true.

A 20^th Century theologian, Henri de Lubac, discussed this when he proposed that man is made up of three parts – body, soul, and spirit. (“The Radiance of Being” by Stratford Caldecott, pg 206 and following). Each of these facets of the human person drives us to search for things that are helpful to us. 

For the body, we are drawn toward things that are good for our physical welfare. Such things include food, clothing, physical pleasure . 

For the soul, we are drawn to things that are beautiful, that brings delight to the whole of the person – things like a sunset, or a job well done, or love.

And for the spirit, we are drawn to things that fulfill our desire to know the truth.  This last facet is most elusive facet to find satisfaction for. 

For as long as humanity has existed, we have searched for the truth, like a pearl of great price.  We have studied the stars for it; we have sacrificed to greater powers for it, and we have striven to be greater than our limitations because of it. 

We do this to free ourselves to discover, to loose the chains of ignorance and weakness so that we can become what we inherently know is our goal – eternal glory.

For us Christians, our allegiance is, by definition, based on the faith of Christ.  At baptism, we receive the indelible mark of the Children of God, sharing in the inheritance of Christ, our brother by joining our wills to Christ, our Lord (see CCC #1213). 

Our faith transcends other forms of allegiance, or at least ought to, because it is not simply a blind obedience, but matures into a love for following our God wherever he may lead us. 

Our part, then, becomes keeping the law of the Word of God; our treasured possession becomes the compassion and kindness given to us by the LORD because we have been found to be faithful and faith-filled servants. (Ps. 119)

As our second reading tells us, faith is the assurance that we will receive what God wants for us because “all things work for good for those who love God.” (Rom. 8:28) 

That while this will mean frustrations and even suffering, because He wants to give us more that what the world can offer, it also means that by our perseverance, we will show that we have been predestined – through Christ – for the kingdom of heaven.

Faith is a choice; a choice that will mean sharing in the Love of God in heaven; a choice that will mean purifying ourselves, separating the wicked from the righteous found in our fallen natures. 

But is it a choice.  We are free the accept it, or to reject it.  Ultimately, faith must be a “conscious choice to welcome and respond to God's [grace].” (“Assurance of Things Hoped For” by Avery Dulles, SJ, pg 275) 

It cannot be coerced or forced; it cannot be superficial, and it cannot be partial or incomplete. 

Faith must envelop our entire being; it must be what defines us and guides us and admonishes us and comforts us.

We must allow faith to break the mundane and finite chains of the body and the soul so that the spirit can become the eternal expanding force within us that longs to participate in its infinite Creator.

My brothers and sisters, the truth we seek is right before us, and it is this:  

We a made to be limitless! We are destined to transcend greatness!

And all we have to do, is ask for it!

If we can muster the courage to say “yes” to God; if we can keep in our sights our goal of eternal glory and realize the goodness, and beauty and truth of the Gospel, then the LORD will be pleased with our request; (see first Reading).  He will shed the revelation of his Good News like light before us, to illumine our path to glory, our journey to the kingdom of heaven.

Today, the LORD is speaking to each one of you, telling you to “Ask something of [him], and [He] will give it to you”.

What will you ask for?

 

 

 

 

 

 

Poem to St. James

(The following is a poem-homily for the Feast of St. James, July 25, 2014)

 

An earthen jar of Jewish stock; Servant became lord.

Fighting for God, his brother at his side,

James deeply drank of His Lord's Cup; indeed, to the dregs,

Drinking of the death of his dear master.

His ending brought a martyrs crown; Gladness sown in tears,

Dying the death of a “Son of Thunder.”

O James, our brother in faith, Please pray that we search to serve

Learning to relish in Christ's lowliness.

Signs

(The following is a "homilette" given on Monday, July 21, 2014)

We are a people of signs. We live by the order and symmetry and reason they provide. Just think of what life wold be like if there were not stop signs, or exit signs, or even more surreal, if we had no words – words are simply signs that help us express what we were thinking or feeling.

Today Jesus gives us two signs: the sign of Jonah, who “was in the belly of the whale three days and three nights,” and the sign of the wisdom of Solomon, which was revered by the nations for its power to judge justly.

Jesus gives us these signs to tell us who he is

• He is The One who comes to conquer death and redeem the world, in a way echoed by Jonah's three-day sleep in the belly of the whale and his work of repentance in Nineveh.
• He is The one who not only has wisdom, but IS the very Wisdom in which Solomon only faintly participated.

Jesus does not disregard our need for signs; far from it. In fact, He went on to found a Church whose lifeblood is based in the outward signs of the internal grace received in the 7 sacraments of the Church.

But Jesus does challenge us to know these signs for what they are;

not magic tricks or silver bullets, but the healing balm of truth for the gaping wounds of deceit left on our souls by sin.

Praying Rightly

(the following is a homily given on the 16th Sunday in Ordinary Time, July 20, 2014)

Reading 1 wis 12:13, 16-19  

Responsorial Psalm ps 86:5-6, 9-10, 15-16 

Reading 2 rom 8:26-27  

Gospel mt 13:24-30 

Human Beings have the propensity of groaning as it were, for the pleasures of this life that will fade, and depending on our own frailty to overcome time's shackles. It is because of this that, as St. Paul tells us today, “we do not know how to pray as we ought.” We don't know, because we don't know what to pray for.

If we allow them, though, our readings today point how to pray rightly.

If you will turn to the readings and follow along, I hope you might be able to catch the theme here of how to pray the way we are meant to pray.

In our first reading, [Wisdom 12] we are given a foundation for prayer by telling us of the truth of God as God alone, having “no gods besides [him]” and whose might is itself the “source of all justice.” It goes on to say that the mark of true justice is leniency and kindness, and that if we are to be just, we must mirror this kindness and mercy in our actions with others.  This passage prepares the soil of our heart to comprehend what it is we are to seek; the type of prayer we are called to pray by showing us, first of all, that God indeed exists, is present to us, and deserves our worship. 

As we follow along in the readings, we can recognize that our responsorial psalm describes not just that there is a God, but who this God is: The“LORD, good and forgiving, abounding in kindness;... great and wondrous in His deeds;... merciful, gracious, and faithful” (see Responsorial Psalm) This description is meant to show us that this God is not simply an arbiter or an overseer, but one who cares for those in his keep; one who personifies what it means to love. 

 

Our New Testament reading (Romans 8:26-27) shows us that this same God of Love knows our weaknesses; that we are powerless to overcome the sting of sin and death without his help. Paul tells us that God sends His Spirit “to the aid of our weakness ... [to] intercede with inexpressible groanings” for us. 

 

This word – GROANING – is interesting. The Catechism of the Catholic Church interprets it to mean the Christian prayer of petition. This petition “arises from the depth of creation” like “labor pains” as it awaits its redemption. (See CCC, #2630) Petitions are made effective not in their own power, but by the grace given by the Holy Spirit, who evangelizes this prayer, purifying it to be in line with Christ's prayer of his life, death and resurrection. Yes: Christ's life was a petition – for us to the Father. 

And so, Christian petition is meant to imitate Christ, in whom we see God's love in a way that makes love more than an abstract thought. It shows us that God's love is not simply an idea or a feeling, but a Person.

A Person who is completely self-giving and generous.

A Person who spreads the seed of his grace with abandon, into the hearts of believers and non-believers alike;

a Person who “expiated the sins of” us all through his own groaning upon the Cross so that we can live in His Love and so be lifted up to divinity. 

 Paul shows us that with petition comes the cultivation of our stony hearts because it is “founded on the prayer of the spirit in us and on the faithful love of the Father who has given his only Son.” (See CCC #2734)

In petition, we discover a God who knows what we need before we ask him, but waits for our prayers to act because our dignity as human beings lies in the free will God has granted to us:

it is what makes us share in God's image.  

St Paul challenges us by telling us that we “do not know how to pray as we ought,” because how we ought to pray, in the end, MUST transcend our selfishness and limitations, and so imprint the image of Christ's love onto the core of our soul. 

This is where the Gospel reading for today comes in. Here in Matthew 13, we read of the “man who sows good seed in his field” but in the night, his enemy comes and sows weeds along with the wheat.  For me, I read this passage on a personal level, the level of the soul. In everyone, the weeds of sin are mixed with the wheat of grace and gift from God. When we choose to live a life nourished by the weeds, we move away from God's love, falling into more sins that further prevent the radiation of His sanctification like clouds in front of the sun. But if we choose to live on the wheat of God's grace, we will be surprised to see the fields of our souls will be made new.  

One of the great fathers of the Church, St. Ignatius of Antioch had this to say concerning this important choice: 

“two things, life and death, are side by side set before us, … Just as there are two coinages, one of God and the other of the world, each with its own image, so unbelievers bear the image of this world, and those who have faith with love bear the image of God the Father through Jesus Christ.” (See Office of Readings for the 16th Sunday in Ordinary Time)

Here, my friends, we see what “praying rightly” looks like. It is not going through the motions of Christianity; it is not coming to feel better about yourself; it is not in defining your existence on your productivity or your successes or your failures or your pride or your shame.

 

No, right prayer is simply receiving what God desires to give us – and that is everlasting life Our charge, then, is found not in choosing our own image, but choosing God's image. Our hope is found not in our finite selfishness, but in God's infinite Love. And our salvation is found not in the death sown into our hearts by the enemy of sin, but in the life reaped by the redemption of Christ, and given to us here, today,

 

in the Bread of Finest Wheat.

Tears and Prayer

(The following is a poem-homily for Friday in the 15th week in Ordinary Time, July 18, 2014)

With tears and prayer we search for bread to satisfy our hunger; We put our house in order, and wait for death to take us.

And as we mourn, we turn more inward, unable to see our brother's pain; we pick our heads of grain, and judge those others who fain to follow our example.

Forgetting the truth that this life is folly and true life is lived only when turned toward others, we scrape at the mortar of mercy and stones of salvation that rise up to greet us and all of creation.

We violate the Sabbath of God's renewal by clinging to censures and rules that stunt the progress of Grace.

We sacrifice our saintliness instead of our sins, and so make for ourselves tent-like facades that fold with the lightest of breezes.

But if all our hope should one day rest on the Son of Man, Who offers us aid for our fears; He'll feed us with bread of the finest of Wheat;

and give us the strength to be those who stand, With the grandeur of friends in the midst of their Lord who has wiped all their tears and heard every prayer.

Reach Out and Believe

(The Following is a "homilette" from Monday, July 7, 2014)

GOSPEL MT 9:18-26

One of the most meaningful stories of the Gospels has been for me the healing of the woman with a hemorrhage.

It speaks to the power of reaching out to God for help when we realize that we are broken human beings in need of healing.

If we use this story to understand our spiritual, we can see that our sins against Christ cause a hemorrhage of the soul, stealing from us the life-blood of grace given to us freely by God.

But like this woman, we have hope; we have but to reach out to Him, Our Lord, who wishes to cleanse us and heal us of all our sinfulness.

The result will be such a gift that surpasses what this world can offer: it will be the gift of His undying love and constant care.

The warm embrace from the One Who knows our needs infinitely better than we can.

It means that we will be espoused to righteousness and justice; love and mercy.

And all we have to do is reach out to Him and believe

"Give me your tired, your poor..."

(The following is a homily given on the Fourteenth Sunday of Ordinary Time, July 6, 2014)

This time of year, I am always reminded of a sonnet I learning in Middle School.  It is about the Statue of Liberty, and is on a bronze plaque on the pedestal of the statue:

"Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to be free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,

I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

This being the weekend of Independence Day, I've had the idea of patriotism on my mind.
I've been whistling patriotic tunes; I've been reciting patriotic poems; I've been baking apples pies -- and more apple pies. I've been thinking of the blessings I've received because some 200+ years ago, my ancestors decided to brave the waters of the Atlantic to a place they had never known, so that they could start a new life. (thanks be to God)

Now I know that when we hear the word "patriotism" we immediately think of a sense of pride for one's country, as we should. But It is to a deeper understanding of patriotism, a selfless understanding, that I'd like to point to today.   This type of patriotism is hard for us to understand unless we have had to test our resolve to remain true to the object of our patriotic feelings.  

--- Our first reading from Zachariah, Chapter 9, is for me a passage of patriotism.
It speaks of the leader of the nation as a "just savior" who "banishes" the enemies might and "proclaim[s] peace" by having "dominion … from sea to sea, and … to the ends of the earth."  
This type of patriotism could be found in the very marrow of the Israelite people;
it was a part of their religious as well as political expression. It was a patriotism focused on a HOPE that they would receive a king who would deliver them from their foes; a "LORD" who was "faithful in all his words and holy in all his works"(see psalm).  

Like any patriotism we are familiar with, this expression was based on relationship and love:
a love for one's community and one's leader; a love based on trust.
 
--- In our second reading (Romans 8), St. Paul speaks to how one is able to maintain that trust.
What is important to remember, however, is where St. Paul sees that this patriotism ought to be founded. With the distinction between the Christian religion and the ruling government of his time, Paul speaks to how our patriotism should ultimately be based in our homeland to come,  It does not diminish the patriotism we owe to our country, but simply places it in a proper so that we yearn for that heavenly Jerusalem for which we are all, as members of the Body of Christ, destined.  In addition, it is based on the love that is to be found in the community of the Church, the family of Believers, with Jesus Christ as it's leader, but even more intimate than that, its head.  

Here Paul tells us that we are not to live "in the flesh" but "in the spirit." When we live in the spirit, that is, the "spirit of Christ"   -- the spirit of the Church --  we will have no fear of dead's sting.  
Our spiritual fatigue and poverty will be irradiated; our huddled frames, bowed down in fear, will be freed by God's saving power;  our wretchedness due to sin will be cleansed in the light of grace shed upon us from the lamp of Christ's Sacred heart, aflame with love for each and every one of us.  

The idea of living in the hope of the spirit leads us to our Gospel for today. Selfless patriotism, based on trust and love, culminates in answering that same trust and love with the freedom to live; to live as has been promised by our creator.    We see this expressed best in two simple sentences from the Gospel:  “Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest... For my yoke is easy, and my burden light.” As I read these words, I am reminded again of the sonnet I began this homily.   This beautiful sonnet speaks of the hopes of millions who have braved exile, defeat, and persecution to reach a land that has been promised to them to be a land of opportunity.
But it also speaks to the real human condition; a condition that is tired, poor, huddled and wretched, homeless and tossed by the tempests of life.  

Like any good bit of poetry, this sonnet speaks to a deeper reality.   It speaks to the hope of the navy seal reeling from his tattered limbs and bleeding body that his sacrifice will save the lives of others; 
it speaks to the hope of the single mother barely getting by that her sacrifice of health and youth will provide a better life for her children; It speaks to the hope of the 8 year-old boy from Honduras, that his sacrifice of homeland and family will lead to a happier future, without war and fear;  it speaks to the hope of the old, tired priest with arthritis crippled hands and failing sight that his sacrifice for the sake of the kingdom will help bring one soul -- just one --  into the loving embrace of Almighty God. 

It speaks of a real patriotism for a land of real and everlasting freedom that cannot be taken from us,
because it has been given to us at the cost of the Blood of the Lamb, the Son of the Father, Jesus Christ.

I would like to leave you with this sonnet again, and as I recite it, I would ask that while you listen, you be attuned to two things: First, the surface reality of the poem, that is, the patriotism we owe to our country; but secondly, the deeper meaning that we as a Catholic family gathered at this altar ought to readily recognize.

Listen to what Lady Liberty has to say to those who seek her aid, but also see -- with you minds-eye --  Who Lady Liberty points to in her words:

"Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to be free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,

(pointing at the tabernacle) I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

Independence Day

(The following is a poem-homilette is from July 4, 2014)

“Give me your tired, your poor”
These words have met so many
They speak of peace, and hope and love
They speak the words of Mercy

the huddled masses yearning to be free
who search a land of plenty
for things that help and mend and grow
for things that echo “Mercy”

Those wretched refuse teem ashore
all sinners in need of healing
a doctor's look, and touch and balm
a teacher's words of Mercy

“Send These, the homeless, tempest-tossed”
to Him Who sets them free
The loaves of stone, the tax of sin
He rights them with His Mercy

Our God lifts high His lamp of Love
His lamp, a Cross of glory
Our charge is simple; to follow Him
His charge: to give us Mercy

On the business of Burying the Dead

(The following is a "homilette" from Monday, June 30, 2014)

I've always found it funny that when it comes to judgment, we as human beings can be so hard on ourselves, yet we are very slow to take criticism from others. When we finish a project, or speak to others, or respond to emails, or whatever... we are the first to think "boy, that might have been a bad move." But when someone else points out the obvious, we baulk: "How dare you? You don't know me!! You don't know my situation!!! You wouldn't have done any better!!"
Am I right?
This speaks to our fundamental problem as a human race, and that is pride. This foundational sin to all other sins is one of the greatest obstacles we face to true humility. I allows us to forget the One who made us, Who has saved us from sin and death. It's like scales on our eyes that keeps us from seeing where we can grow and mature by telling us the WE are the ones who know right and wrong -- WE are the arbiters of justice.
Even as faithful Christians, we face this problem. We may truly desire to follow Our Lord wherever he may go, but on our terms. The Gospel today gives us an example of this: "A scribe approached and said to [Jesus], 'LORD, let me go first to bury my father.'" A respectable request, but a request that was ultimately an excuse.
In today's jargon, it would be like telling our Lord: "Let me go first to take my kids to soccer practice so they learn to be upright citizens; first to get comfortable financially so I am able give generously to the poor; first to take care of my personal need to look holy or righteous in the eyes of the world so that I have room for the Lord's blessings that I have earned."

These excuses reflect a distrust in anyone but ourselves, even God. It is a spiritual death that robs us of God's graces and support.

I wonder if our pride will allow us to see that Our Lord is not in the business of burying the dead, but raising them to new life.

I wonder if we might be able to allow Him do that for us -- and in us -- today?

St.'s Peter and Paul: Examples of Trust

(The following is a homily given of the Solemnity of St.'s Peter and Paul, June 29, 2014)

Today, Our Lord asks us a question: “Who do people say that I am?” It's a question that I think we as followers of Christ can easily overlook.  We take for granted that Jesus is the Christ; the Son of the living God. But the question “Who do people say that Jesus is?” has to be answered in order to know why we do what we do; why we are the way we are – as Christians. 

Remember a few weekends ago when we discussed the importance of Names; how even today, to know a name means having a power over a person or a situation, and that to give a name means to risk being confined to a specific definition, or even pigeon-holed to the point of becoming wounded, possibly killed. Yet even with this risk, we see that Christ wants to be known – he wants us to speak His Name so that we can relate to him.  So to be Christian, then, means that we are called to strive for a relationship with Christ in every time, place, and culture.  It means that we must learn to be faith-filled; to be trusting.

On this solemnity of St. Peter and St. Paul, we are given an example, through theirs lives and deaths of a trust that is an effective instrument of the Good News.

If you will look at the readings for today( acts 12:1-11, ps 34:2-3, 4-5, 6-7, 8-9, 2 tm 4:6-8, 17-18 , mt 16:13-19) let's see together at the stories our Church has given us on this day, to reflect upon the witness of these saints to trust.

In our first reading (Acts 12:1-11), we hear of King Herod's persecution of the Christians because of his desire to please the Jews. St. Peter himself was throne into jail, and would have probably met a similar fate as his brother apostle James, had not the Angel of the Lord intervened.  “Get up quickly!” the angel tells Peter; “Follow me!” And Peter followed, even though he lacked full knowledge of the situation.  In fact, it was not until after his deliverance from prison that Peter could say: “Now I know for certain that the LORD... rescued me.”

In the 2nd reading ( II Tim. 4:6-8, 17-18), St. Paul, who was close to martyrdom at this point, spoke of the crown of salvation that awaited him because of his trust in God. “I have competed well; I have finished the race; I have kept the faith.”  And how did he do this?  Not by sitting on his laurels; not by expecting any compensation this world could offer; but by being “poured out like a libation” – a sacrificial offering – to the LORD. 

In turn, God stood by him and gave him strength so as to meet the mouths of lions and the threats of evil with the very power of the Almighty. This pouring out – this “self emptying”– was a participation in Christ's own sufferings.

The faith and witness of these two saints reminds me of yet another Greek term: kenosis. This word comes from the Greek κενός (kenos) – which simply means “empty.”  Christianity has come to utilize the term kenosis to understand Christ's becoming man. 

St. Paul I think explains the term perfectly in his letter to the Philippians:

“Christ Jesus, Who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God something to be grasped. Rather, he emptied himself, taking the form of a slave,[and] becoming obedient to death, even death on a cross.” (see Ph. 2)

In His own ministry, Christ is seen to “remove the scales” from the eyes of His followers in order that they might come to an awareness of his kenosis – his self-emptying –  and so realize Who He truly is 
– “The Son of the Living God.” the God of complete and overflowing LOVE.

Christ does not politely tiptoe around his identity as God, but forces those around Him to ask the critical question – “Who is He?” , all the while trusting: trusting in their ability and their dignity as human persons to realize and then freely accept the truthfulness of His claim. But the trust of Christ in us comes with a requirement: trust in Him. 

This means to follow His way of life, and ultimately to give one’s self entirely to Him. Trust in Christ demands from us a person kenosis – a personal “self emptying.” It requires a personal conversion.  But what does conversion really mean?

A contemporary theologian, Avery Cardinal Dulles, describes the idea of conversion as

“a radical shift in a person’s apprehensions and values, accompanied by a similar radical change in oneself, in one’s relations with other persons, and in one’s relations to God.” (See his book Craft of Theology) 

This idea of conversion is fundamentally based on relationship and, hence, trust. It is a trust that asks us to “look to the LORD” so that we may be “radiant with joy;”  it is a trust that requires that we “glorify the LORD” through our thoughts, words and actions in order that we might be “delivered from all [our] fears”.  It is only through this trust that we are even capable of sincere and lasting freedom and personal fulfillment. 

St. Peter and Paul gave us a real example of this trust by their lives and their deaths. They emptied themselves completely, in ways that reflected Christ's own life and death.  By completely spending every drop of selfishness, they opened themselves up to being completely filled with the blessing, and grace and glory of Christ.  They showed us what it means to trust in the LORD;  and so gave us a definition of what it means to be CHURCH  – a body of believers devoted to personal kenosis –  completely emptying itself of its own personal desires to make room for the desire of the Creator: A desire to bring salvation to each and every sinner and saint so that there is no longer be any separation between us and God; A desire to be one with us through our participation in His gift of unfailing love; a desire to lift us up out of our frail humanity into His divinity.

Let us learn to trust in Him who St. Peter and St. Paul placed there own trust, as well as “their lives, their labors, their sufferings, their preaching, and their confession of faith.” (St. Augustine)

Let us trust in him so that we can freely empty our lives before Him in a sacrifice of praise. 

Let us risk everything to be His beloved, because He has risked everything to be our GOD.