One day when I was walking the city streets where I was giving a series of talks, I saw what appeared to be an older woman hunched over with a sign asking for help. At first I passed her, on my way to visit the local drugstore. But then I came back around when I realized that I had not been very mindful upon first seeing her. I didn't have much cash to give her, but as I always tell everyone else in my talks, oftentimes what people need more than cash is someone to at least acknowledge them. I reached into my pocket to give her what little I had and I simply said, "Hello. I hope you are okay and I hope you can use this." When her face turned toward me I saw she was probably only about sixteen years of age and she was very beautiful. She smiled immediately and said how much this meant to her. She gathered up her few belongings and I watched her walk to a café for a meal. I turned to walk back to my lodging and I thought to myself, "She could have been my daughter." That's when the still, small voice spoke to me saying, "Don't you understand? That was your daughter!" Who is your daughter or son, your mother or father? Who is your neighbor? Better yet, in whom do you see Jesus? A young homeless girl on the street can take on so many forms: stranger, neighbor, daughter, and Jesus. Unless we are mindful of those in our midst, we miss the chance to see any of them. We must never be fooled by appearance. That day I almost missed seeing my Lord.
— Tracy Earl Welliver, MTS
— Tracy Earl Welliver, MTS
When Sacrifice Becomes Mundane--It seems to happen every year, like clockwork: we drag a bit, as we enter into the second week of Lent. On Ash Wednesday, we feel a bit like soldiers banging our shields, rushing into battle. “We’re ready, God!” our hearts cry out. “Transform us through sacrifice! Your will be done!” But by now, these Lenten resolutions are no longer novelties — they’ve joined the ranks of everyday inconveniences, which somehow are the hardest to bear. Because transformation, in real life, happens in inches, just as a battle is won slowly in the crash of one sword against another. It’s not always a dramatic thing, to the naked eye. It’s the perseverance in prayer despite weariness, or the continual denial of some pleasure even though there’s that nagging voice in our minds saying: go ahead, God doesn’t really mind. It’s a week when we all need a shock to the system — and wouldn’t you know it, this Sunday God gives us a double-whammy of dramatic sacrificial scenes. We picture Abraham, who also cried “Ready!” when God called, never imagining what He would ask: the surrender of his long-awaited son. We see Christ himself transfigured, as God shows us what He is ready to give up for love of us. We must remain committed, persevering daily in acknowledging that everything belongs to God. What we sacrifice, we simply give back to Him. If God is for us, who can be against us? Can we still reply, “Ready!” when we hear the call of God? —