Keith Miller tells a wonderful story about a busy executive in an eastern city who was rushing to catch a commuter train one morning. The executive had an important meeting at the office, and he needed to make this train in order to get there on time. Just as he was about to board the train, he accidentally bumped into a little boy who was carrying a boxed jigsaw puzzle. The box went flying, and the pieces scattered everywhere. What should he do? Should he stop and help the little boy pick up the pieces? Or, should he get on the train? He couldn’t do both; there was not enough time! If he stopped to help, he would miss the train and be late. What should he do? What would you have done? Well, the man stopped and helped the boy pick up the puzzle as the train pulled out. The little boy watched him closely with a kind of awe. The little boy said, “Mister, you missed your train.” “I know,” the man said. “Will you be late to work?’ the boy asked. “Yes, but it was more important that I stop and help you.” Then the little boy said, “Mister, can I ask you a question?” “Yes, of course.” “Mister, are you Jesus?” 

Keith Miller wrote, “And for the moment, the man realized that – on that platform – he had been.” 

The little boy saw the light of Jesus in that man’s act of Christ-like love. 

Friend of Dial Hope, during these difficult days, how is it with you? Can people see in you Christ’s spirit of forgiveness? And can people see in you Christ’s love?

Let us pray: Creator God, you are eagle, you are a dove, you are color and sound, you are wind and fire. How great Thou art! Your world is indeed full of pain as well as joy. Be especially with those who can’t sleep, with those who are fearful, who have little hope. Spread your love like a well-worn and beloved jacket over those who need comfort and love. For we pray in the name of the Prince of Peace, our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

In a recent theological journal, Austin Seminary professor David White tells the story of Le Chambon, a little village in southern France. 

“One day in 1942, during World War II, two buses of French police pulled into this village to round up Jews who were given refuge there. The police captain gathered everyone into the village square, and warned the Protestant pastor, Andre Troche, that if he did not give up the names of the Jews the village had been sheltering, he… as well as the families who had been caring for them, would be arrested.

“The pastor refused. And after a thorough and frightening search, the police could find only one Jew. They loaded him into an otherwise empty bus. But before they drove off, a thirteen-year-old boy, the son of the pastor, passed a piece of his precious chocolate through the window to the prisoner, while twenty soldiers guarding the lone prisoner stood by and watched. Then the rest of the villagers began passing their little gifts through the window until there were gifts all around him – most of it was food… which was also precious in those hungry days of the German occupation of France.”

Apparently, over the course of just a few years, this small village gave protection, shelter, and food to more than 5,000 Jews fleeing the Nazis. These acts of kindness were done at great risk and at considerable cost.

But how did this village rise to this occasion? 

David White draws on another scholar named Craig Dykstra who claims that it was the ordinary practices of worship and faith that shaped the ethos of this community. He believed that without even realizing it, they were being trained in habits of generosity and hospitality, welcoming each other into their homes, and providing shelter for travelers, and food for the sick. These rituals had somehow prepared the folks in this village to answer that knock at their door with steely resolve. 

As Christians, we’ve long had these rituals… We retell these stories. Bread is broken. Sins forgiven… The cup is shared. Grace is extended. Could it be that these stories, these acts, seep into our bones – without us even realizing it? Could it be in part, that we are long cultivating habits; habits of forgiving, habits of giving, habits of serving others, habits of eating with those and loving those with whom we disagree?

Now I have no idea, honestly, how we would respond if faced with the same terrifying situation as that of the people of Le Chambon. I’m sure other faithful people at that time did not respond so valiantly. But I do believe that through our worship and shared practices, something deeper is happening with us. And perhaps, just perhaps, when it comes to facing the heartache, the betrayal, and the injustice of this world, perhaps… we are more prepared than we think.

Let us pray: We ask loving God, that you continue to shape our lives in such a way that we live with courage, conviction, and love; through Jesus Christ. Amen.

Many years ago now, my daughter Emily got into making small clay animals. They were really quite detailed, and she was able to sell them for a dollar a piece to friends, family, and neighbors. Over the course of about a year, she accumulated a hundred dollars – which of course is a lot of money for a nine-year-old! 

At that time my sister was working in a shelter for women and children escaping abusive relationships. Emily got to thinking about the kids in this shelter who might be missing their toys clothes and homes. So she decided that she wanted to give some of her money to help. I’d been talking to her about tithing, giving away 10 percent of her money. But she hadn’t quite bought into that. In fact, in her mind, that wasn’t going to be enough. So, when she finally reached the $100 mark, she gave me the whole waded-up ball of money, mostly crumpled one-dollar bills,- and she said, “Here, Daddy. I want to give all of this to the Oasis shelter.” 

It’s crazy. I actually tried to talk her into keeping some of it for herself. But she wasn’t having any of that. She said, “No Daddy. I want to give it all.”

It is a beautiful thing to be inspired by a child. Reflecting on her compassion makes me want to be more compassionate. Her generosity, makes me want to be more generous. Her willingness to sacrifice what she could have for the sake of others reminds me of how sacrificial giving toward a worthy cause touches something deep in the soul. 

Thank you, Emily, for inspiring your dad!

Let us pray: Gracious God, none of us have to look very far to see how richly we’ve been blessed. We especially thank you today, for your unconditional, sacrificial love for each of us. In response, grant us open hearts. Show us ways that we might be a blessing to you and to others. others. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

In preparing to lead a memorial service for my friend Rev. Herb Meza, I read an Easter sermon that he had written entitled, “More Beyond.” In this sermon, Herb reflected on the eternal dimensions of our faith. He noted that if our eyes are open, there are all kinds of hints pointing to something more beyond us. He wrote about how science has discovered that there is a tremendous range of colors beyond what the eye can see; there are scales of octaves way above and below what the ear can hear; And there are discoveries in the field of physics that stretch the imaginations of even the greatest scientists. 

He went on to write this: 

“Everywhere we turn there are hints that there is more. Hints of life and power and energy.

“But even if there were no hints, there is that instinct within humans that points to more…. Pascal once said that God had planted this instinct in our very souls and no matter how much we try to disbelieve it, it keeps creeping up and out when we come face-to-face with the mystery of death… Easter is the triumphant affirmation of something we have never proved but instinctively know…. That our little world of time and space is but a small fragment of something much larger than we can perceive with our eyes, or hear with our ears, or touch with our senses…”

In his sermon, he went on to reflect on how death seems scary, but in reality, it might be more like a birth. Near the very end of the sermon, Herb got very personal about the Christian hope of what lies beyond:

“I believe that one day every bruise, every cancer cell, every blind eye, every limp and every lump will be set right. One day every embarrassment and every rejection and every hurt we have suffered will give way to glory. I do not know how God will deal with all the shabbiness, failures and betrayal. It surely must hurt God, but I know God is loving and forgiving. One day, every moment of hoping against hope will be rewarded.”

Let us pray: We are grateful, Loving God, that in life and in death we belong to you. Help us to trust your healing, forgiving, embracing grace; now and always. Amen.

Earlier in the month, we reflected on Psalm 62. The psalmist “For God alone my soul waits in silence…” Today, I return to this theme.

In reality, there is so very little silence in our lives. We get the earbuds in. Screens on. The television going. Phones ringing… And we get used to this. We get so used to being entertained, so used to being bombarded with information, so used to the noise around us… that when we get a moment of quiet, we’re often not sure what to do with it. 

I notice myself in a waiting room, or even sometimes in an elevator, looking at my phone… In an elevator! I mean what is that 20 seconds?

One recent study found that subjects would rather give themselves an electric shock than experience boredom for even a few minutes. 

And yet we wonder why we feel so fragmented… So uncentered… 

On this Holy Saturday, as we sit between the cross and the empty tomb, maybe we could take a few moments of silence, to carve out time to sit in God’s presence to allow God’s grace to wash over us.

Let us pray: Holy God, as we embrace a moment of stillness even now, we ask for Your presence to envelop us. In the relative quiet, speak to our hearts…May we grasp again the depths of your love for us, through Jesus the Christ. Amen.