New Perspectives

I hit the snooze once. Twice. My eyes heavy, I open them long enough to reset my alarm to 10am. I'd go to church later. The light was pouring into my room even though my window is covered with black-out curtains. Why was it so bright? I rolled over and pulled the covers over my head. Even 30 more minutes of sleep will help me get through the day. I deserve the extra sleep, but there's the sunlight again. I heard it quietly at first, but it grew more nagging: the voice in my head reading my long to-do list for the day. "Ok," I relented. "I'll get up." I rush to throw myself together. Bag packed with school work, coupons for grocery shopping crinkled in my purse, and make-up in hand--I'll have to just do it in the car--and I was out the door. I pulled into the church parking lot, put on my mascara and hopped out of the car only to be greeted by one of dear friends, Anna, walking up to church as well. We go in together and I follow her to her normal seat.

Sitting on the other side of the chapel, I look around. I knew that it looked like this, but yet it's different. It's simple, rustic, warm. I grab a missile as the lector walks to the alter. She begins reading. My heart instantly urns for The Lord and my ears tune to the Word. I hear,

"Is it not to divide your bread with the hungry

to bring the homeless and poor into your house;

When you see the naked, to cover him;

and not to hide yourself from your own flesh?

Then your light shall break forth like the dawn,

and your healing will spring up quickly.

Your righteousness shall go before you;

the glory of the Lord will be your rear guard.

Then you will call, and the Lord will answer;

You will cry, and He will say, 'Here I am.'

If you remove the yoke from your midst,

the pointing of the finger and speaking wickedness,

And if you pour yourself out for the hungry

and satisfy the afflicted,

Then your light will rise in the darkness

And your gloom will become like noonday."
(Isaish 58:7-10)

Deep breath. I reread the passage once. Twice. Three times. His Words jump into my soul and shine like the sun pouring into my bedroom this morning: bright and warm, hopeful and abundant. Father stands to read the gospel; my ears tune in again. 

"YOU are the SALT of the earth. 

If salt looses its taste, how shall it be seasoned?"

"You are the light of the world...

Let your light shine before others,

so that they may see your good works

and give glory to your Father in heaven."

(Matthew 5:13-16)

Another deep breath as the warmth washes over me again. Father says a few words, but relinquishes the microphone to two visitors from the Franciscan Volunteer Ministry. The volunteers begin explaining about the program. For one year, volunteers live among the poor and minister to them. They are assigned to a ministry, a soup kitchen, a parish and pour themselves into the people in the community through stewardship and prayer. Listening to these two early twenty-somethings, I was moved, yet again. The humble service to the poor and the identification of the poor not as a group, but as individuals. I was in awe. One year. That isn't so long, and what an amazing way for your light to shine forth and give glory to The Lord. I turn to Anna and whisper, "Wow, I wish I had the strength to do that." She looks at me and says, "You could totally do that!" I believe her; I really could. Then a powerful, scary, awe-inspiring thought: did God just open my heart and ears through the scripture to receive His message of service?

I've been thinking about the business world for months, if not years. To be a businesswoman in downtown Atlanta, that was my next step, my dream, wasn't it? Isn't it? Father made the first reading and the gospel tie together so well, yet I now see them as preaching two different worlds. Isaish is telling me to out and to be with the poor. Matthew is telling me to use my talents to minister to those too busy and consumed by "stuff"to realize The Lord's presence. Another deep breath. Just when I thought I had my life figured out, The Lord knocks, laughing that I had made plans without Him. He never ceases to amaze me and call me to question my actions and thoughts. It's big ideas like this that make me miss my grandmother so much. She would know what to say and how to go about uncovering the meaning behind these competing thoughts. That's a topic for another time, though. Prayer. That is what she would say. Prayer is the next step--and all this homework that I have to do.