Friends,

I write this as I return from Paul Spring Retirement Community, where we do monthly services. The first service is for the general population. Nancy Morrissey is St. Luke’s unofficial representative at Paul Spring, and she always does such an amazing job of creating community and inviting people to Church. The little theater they put us in felt full in today’s service! The service is sacred, but most people go for Rev. Vanilla Bean, my dog, who always goes to Paul Spring wearing one of her hats. After that service we go to the memory care section and do a trivia game called “The Answer is Jesus!” (The answer to every question is indeed Jesus) and then celebrate a short service. A retired pediatrician with no family who is also a holocaust survivor, always comes. Even though she is non-verbal, she gets the most out of the service. She generally stands in front of me and insists on holding my hand when we bless the bread and wine.

Today she was in her room, but we got to say hello as we were getting ready to go. We spoke some French with her, which is her native language, and I said some prayers that a Roman Catholic would know, as that is the religion she converted to later in life. As we said the prayers, I showed her pictures of my children, and told her that she helped children, her eyes began to tear up. I wonder what part resonated with her. She cannot tell us and we can only ponder, but my hope is that we reminded her of the good she did in her life. It was something true about her. My fear is that it brought up pain. It is the seasons of my life where I’ve done the most good for others, that I have also seen the most pain and failure. When I think back at my time as an EMT, the hard calls come to mind before the times where everything went smoothly. I hope this saint just down the road heard the truth that she is indeed good when we sat down with her today.

These services always sneak up on me, and I always end up making the bulletins in a rush. My sermons at Paul Spring are never prepared, and that generally means they are either some of my best or my worst, but never mediocre. The scripture appointed for today hit me a bit differently than in years past. In Luke 9:18-25 Jesus finally got away from the crowd with the disciples, which if you read between the lines, is a preoccupation, and he begins to ask them questions. “Who do the crowds say that I am?” They answer back with all the wrong answers. Some say John the Baptist, Elijah, maybe a prophet? “But who do you say that I am?” And for one glorious moment, Peter gets it. “The Messiah of God.” The tone shifts. I can’t help but read this as Jesus being surprised or disturbed. He sternly orders them to tell no one. He tells them that he is going to undergo great suffering, and that they must also bear their cross.

I think Lent is commonly mistaken as the introvert’s season. That makes sense. Lent gets into self-reflection and introspection, and don’t get me wrong those are great, but sometimes you need a friend to also see what all that self-reflection has been trying to show you. I believe that people are significantly less self-aware than they realize. Coming to terms with something true about ourselves can take tons of work, humility and effort. Learning who we are is hard work and showing it to someone else can be even harder.

No wonder Jesus reacted the way he did when the scales on Peter’s eyes shed for just a moment. The secret was out. Time to do damage control, don’t tell anyone. Time to catch you all up, things are going to be hard, and you need to embrace it to gain your life. Let’s keep moving with these things in mind.

The truth of Jesus’ identity gave us insight as to what was to come, and that there was reason to be scared. This truth and the pain that followed also led to our salvation. I don’t know what my friend at the memory care unit of Paul Spring was feeling when I told her something about herself, I think to be true. I do know that she understood something, and for a minute she felt something.

I hope you have someone that can help you draw out those hard truths. For Jesus, it was hearing his loving, but chronically wrong friend say that he is, “The Messiah of God” that seemingly caught him off guard. For my friend it was, “Remember, your job was to help children.” This Lent, seek forgiveness of your sins, but also come to grips with the fact that you are indeed redeemed and loved.

Blessings,

Nick