Faith is a gift to be shared

Faith comes to us as a gift, but we must take custody of this gift and nurture it. The gift can grow cold and unused if we are not careful, or we can make it a source of warmth and light for others. Good, praying mothers like Eunice and Lois—the mother and grandmother of Timothy—are the source of nurturing love that extends its warmth, light, and power through generations. (I am blessed to have one of those mothers, too. Thanks, Mom!)

The Gospel of Mark (Mark 4:1-20 ) has a familiar passage about the sower and the travails of growing things in difficult soils. Some may view this story as a rather immutable judgment about different kinds of people. But that’s a rather dire picture, if you ask me. If we look honestly at the course of our own lives, we know that sometimes the fruit is bitter and not so desirable, and few can claim complete triumph over weeds that creep in to our fields. I have come to understand that any of us can experience each of these conditions in the parable from time to time. And we also need to remember that God can break up rock, provide water, and even apply herbicide on the thorns; despite these conditions, it is still possible to break free and be fruitful.

As I write this reflection, I think the past couple of days were such that the soil of my heart was being tilled. Did you ever find yourself grumbling about various problems, indignities, and struggles of life, all of which interfered with your own plans for the day? I felt pressed for time, other demands were going wanting, I had things to do! Add the fact that I do not particularly like hospitals or long drives. But I kept on going, intent on resuming my own agenda.

You know what? After getting back to my “regularly scheduled programming” today, I encountered customers and co-workers who had bigger inconveniences than mine. Suddenly my own agenda did not seem quite so important. I was grateful for the gift of spending time with Mom, even if it was in the hospital!

I often resist exposure to the suffering of others. Yet somehow that exposure is needed to remind us of our common humanity and our common need for grace. Grace sometimes comes to us in our suffering, but sometimes suffering even brings grace to others in ways we do not understand. It made me think anew about this parable, causing me to realize that the good soil we need is not always where we think it might be, and the “weeds” we sometimes want so desperately to cut away may in reality be herbs that we need to heal us.

So I’m grateful for those who help to transmit gifts of life, faith, and hope--whether knowingly or unknowingly. And may God open our eyes to see Him working in our midst.