Dear Five O' Clock Friends,
Tomorrow St. Michael's, San Gabriel and Live at Five serve at St. Martin's. Some folks will head straight to the kitchen while others will make their way to the back of the shelter to join the Congregation of St. Martin's in worship. Today, I've been holding both Live at Five and the Congregation of St. Martin's in prayer as I reflect on the week gone by in light of the scripture we'll hear tomorrow.
Tomorrow St. Michael's, San Gabriel and Live at Five serve at St. Martin's. Some folks will head straight to the kitchen while others will make their way to the back of the shelter to join the Congregation of St. Martin's in worship. Today, I've been holding both Live at Five and the Congregation of St. Martin's in prayer as I reflect on the week gone by in light of the scripture we'll hear tomorrow.
Here's a part of the scripture Philip will read tomorrow morning:
Jesus said, "You are the salt of the earth; but if salt has lost its taste, how can its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything, but is thrown out and trampled under foot.
"You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hid. No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven."
And here are snippits of the week gone by:
And then I read that for every negative comment an elementary-aged child receives, it takes ten positive comments to restore their self-esteem.
What about us--you and me and the people we meet throughout the day. What are the barbs and hurts we carry with us? What saps our saltiness? Who snuffs out our light? Where is the balm that heals the wounds are restores our sense of belovedness, our saltiness, our light? What is our work as followers of Jesus?
Jesus said, "You are the salt of the earth; but if salt has lost its taste, how can its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything, but is thrown out and trampled under foot.
"You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hid. No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven."
And here are snippits of the week gone by:
- A woman, a poet, a person who lives on the street, says to Karen, the client advocate at St. Martin's, "I love St. Martin's but I won't go there now that they ask me for my number--I don't want to be "just" a number."
- "You'll bring me glutten-free wafers? I feel special."
- A friend tells me the story of one of his friends--a woman who spent a lifetime neglected and abused; a woman shocked when she's the recipient of simple human kindness.
- two men--one just released from prison and the other just released from the hospital--come way late to St. Martin's. "I've had nothing to eat since yesterday" says one, and the other chimes in, "Neither have I."
And then I read that for every negative comment an elementary-aged child receives, it takes ten positive comments to restore their self-esteem.
What about us--you and me and the people we meet throughout the day. What are the barbs and hurts we carry with us? What saps our saltiness? Who snuffs out our light? Where is the balm that heals the wounds are restores our sense of belovedness, our saltiness, our light? What is our work as followers of Jesus?
Tomorrow, some of us will gather early in the morning at St. Martin's Hospitality Center. And tomorrow afternoon others will join together for compline at five. We'll be light--the bright morning light or the diffuse light of late afternoon--light not hid under a bushel basket.
Susan+
Susan+
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