A Shepherd In The Field

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Let's not be predictable

on March 25, 2019

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Do we look like Jesus?

As for me, I shall behold your face in righteousness; when I awake I shall be satisfied, beholding your likeness. Psalm 17:15 I pray you are covered with Christ as we journey through the Holy Season of Lent. I am struggling over the lingering question: Do our churches and faith look like Jesus? Can we say yes? I am not speaking of looking like Jesus architecturally or artistically (e.g. carved in stone, Tiffany stained glass, Jesus covered in gold or European Jesus). I wrestle with something more profound. If someone walks through our door, will they find a place where they belong? Will the person wearing dirty clothes feel they belong? Will the immigrant who does not speak English or the single mother or father with three screaming kids? Maybe that guy who smells like alcohol and needs a shave. Anyone who does not look, think, act, or talk like us. This is a time of Lenten reflection, and we all like to believe we welcome everyone.We know that despite the smiles, and the quick wave,

Feast of the Conversion of St. Paul

The Story of the Conversion of Saint Paul Saint Paul’s entire life can be explained in terms of one experience—his meeting with Jesus on the road to Damascus. In an instant, he saw that all the zeal of his dynamic personality was being wasted, like the strength of a boxer swinging wildly. Perhaps he had never seen Jesus, who was only a few years older. But he had acquired a zealot’s hatred of all Jesus stood for, as he began to harass the Church: “…entering house after house and dragging out men and women, he handed them over for imprisonment” (Acts 8:3b). Now he himself was “entered,” possessed, all his energy harnessed to one goal—being a slave of Christ in the ministry of reconciliation, an instrument to help others experience the one Savior. One sentence determined his theology: “I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting” (Acts 9:5b). Jesus was mysteriously identified with people—the loving group of people Saul had been running down like criminals. Jesus, he saw, was the

In the marketplace

As in water face reflects face, so the heart of man reflects the man. Proverbs 27:19 There was a woman in the Old City in Jerusalem, and she was beautiful. Perhaps 83 years old, and her head was covered in the traditional Muslim shawl. She sat on ancient, wet stone steps selling vegetables. It was cold and raining, and I sensed she knew that few of those from those foreign lands would smile, nod their head or look at her. They were too busy rushing to take a selfie at Golgotha or eager to buy that unusual gift from Jerusalem. She was an immigrant in her own land. One of the nameless, faceless Holy Land objects. But if those who walked by took time, they would notice that her face told a story of pain and joy, hope and loss, love and death. God's hand had painted a story of life on a weathered canvas made of flesh. I was struck by humanity's fragility and the spirit's resiliency. In my March letter, I asked if our Churches "look like Jesus?' During the followin

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