God CARES for us?

I was having a conversation with a friend this morning when he said to me, and I mentioned something to him about how God cares for us especially during the times of our lives when things are the most difficult. His reply:

“You know, I’ve always thought of God as someone who guides me, or directs me, or wants to control me. I’ve thought a lot about God’s will, and wondered what that might be, and usually imagining that it would be something I wouldn’t really want on my own. I’ve though how he must expect a lot about me, and how much I probably disappoint him, and, to tell you the truth, I don’t think I would want to meet him face-to-face. I guess, when all is said and done, I think that God would simply judge me and that I wouldn’t come out very good in the process. . . .

“But I don’t think I’ve ever thought about God in the sense of Him caring for me. That puts a whole different slant on things. Caring sounds gentler, and more friendly. I can think of people in my life in the past or even now who have cared for me. I can think of how wonderful  the nurses were to me when I was in the hospital last year, and how much they really cared about me and about what they were doing. I can also remember teachers who I realize really cared about their students, even if we didn’t always recognize it or appreciate it at the time. . . .

“But the idea of God caring for me. Wow! That’s an awful big thing to wrap my head around. . . .”

I reminded him of what Saint Peter had to say in one of his letters: Cast your cares upon the Lord because he cares about you. (1 Peter 5:7) And I suggested that he take a voyage through the book of Psalms and see all the references to the ways that God actually cares for us throughout our lives.

Sometimes, you know, when you are given an insight by the Spirit (and I think that was indeed what was happening to my friend), you can turn again to the pages of Scripture, to things that you have read over and over again, and suddenly begin to see things that you have never seen before. The Scriptures can be read as a dialogue between God and his children (see the Document of Vatican II called “Dei Verbum”) and that dialogue is living and active and is not merely some sort of historical record.

I hope my friend takes me up on my encouragement, and does look through the psalms to find examples of God’s caring for us. In fact, perhaps you would like to do that for yourself. Perhaps, in fact, I might do that with you in the days to come . . .

God bless you.

He loves you like a child . . .

From the Gospel for Friday of the Octave of Easter:    (John 21:1-14)

Several of the apostles were out fishing, but they caught nothing. Jesus was standing on the shore near a charcoal fire. He called out to them, “Children, have you caught anything to eat?”

I stop there in my reading and reflect on the way Jesus addresses the men who, we remember were strong and probably tough. Jesus cuts through all that and gets to the heart of things: “Children.”

Children.

Child of God.

Picture yourself being called in this way. Lay down your adult-ness for a bit and be a child. Imagine Jesus loving that child, embracing you, blessing you, caring about you, tending to your needs in very ordinary ways. (He said to them: Come, have breakfast.)

The men bring him their fish, and he grills the fish for them. Jesus himself is feeding you. Jesus himself prepares for you to be nourished, not by theological intensity nor by rules and regulations, but by bread and fish—the most basic and favored meal in that place and at that time.

No other words need to be spoken. The next time you partake of any food, picture Jesus feeding you that food because it is something you need. Jesus caring for your child.

And then pray that He might feed all the children of the world who are hungry and needy. And, if you can, find a way to help in some small grateful way.

But for now, for this moment of reflection, note that you are the child and you are being taken care of, and your hunger is being satisfied. Abundantly, for the men’s nets hauled in 153 large fish.

No one knows for sure why the number of fish is specified: 153. It is a mystery for now. The time will come when we will understand. But not now.

I’ll close with a thought from Theophane the Recluse in The Art of Prayer:

Our whole object is to acquire the habit of keeping our attention always on the Lord, who is omnipresent and sees everything, who desires the salvation of all of us and is ready to help us toward it. (p. 122)

This reflection was inspired by the writing of Kathy Coffey, appearing in Give Us This Day for April, pp. 22-23.