March 31 sermon - Every Day Is Easter

After the sabbath, as the first day of the week was dawning, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to see the tomb. And suddenly there was a great earthquake; for an angel of the Lord, descending from heaven, came and rolled back the stone and sat on it. His appearance was like lightning, and his clothing white as snow. For fear of him the guards shook and became like dead men. But the angel said to the women, “Do not be afraid; I know that you are looking for Jesus Who was crucified. He is not here; for He has been raised, as He said. Come, see the place where He lay. Then go quickly and tell His disciples, ‘He has been raised from the dead, and indeed He is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see Him.’ This is my message for you.” So they left the tomb quickly with fear and great joy, and ran to tell His disciples. Suddenly Jesus met them and said, “Greetings!” And they came to Him, took hold of His feet, and worshiped Him. Then Jesus said to them, “Do not be afraid; go and tell My brothers to go to Galilee; there they will see Me.” (Matthew 28:1-8)

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     It’s kind of like the Super Bowl, the Grey Cup, the World Series and the Stanley Cup Finals all rolled up into one gigantic event. I’m talking about Easter. It’s hard to grasp the significance of Easter to the church. Christmas may be more popular and more emotionally satisfying, but Easter still takes centre stage. The birth of a baby we can grasp fairly easily, but the resurrection of a dead man to life? That’s much more challenging. Resurrection confronts us on so many different levels doesn’t it. It’s not logical. It doesn’t make sense. It can’t happen. It defies everything we know. And yet, if we’re Christians, we’re also confronted with the reality that this illogical, non-sensical, impossible and inexplicable event is the centrepiece of our faith. And so, every year, we gather to try to figure this out. In fact, every Sunday we gather we try to figure this out, because, really, every Sunday is Easter. We may not be able to fully understand the Easter event but we still gather to celebrate it, because as Paul wrote, “if Christ has not been raised, our preaching is useless and so is your faith.” And, as I mentioned to those who gathered for our Sunrise service earlier this morning, even the original disciples didn’t “understand” the resurrection. If they had, they would presumably have told us about it. But, instead, they tell us nothing about the resurrection, settling for describing for us the reality of the empty tomb. So, for them so long ago but confronted by the immediate reality of resurrection, they chose not to worry about “how” it happened; they chose to content themselves with proclaiming “that” it happened and with puzzling over “why” it happened. That’s our guide. I don’t know “how” the resurrection happened, other than to say by faith that somehow God caused it. I do believe “that” it happened, and I constantly reflect on “why” it happened.

     In 1967, Richard Avery and Donald Marsh wrote a song called, very simply “Every Morning Is Easter Morning.” Its first line reads “Ev’ry morning is Easter morning from now on! Ev’ry day’s resurrection day, the past is over and gone!” Here’s really what the gospel is about. It’s not about explaining the resurrection in scientific, rational terms. The gospel writers couldn’t do that. Neither can we. The gospel - like this song - talks about the impact of the resurrection on everyday life, because really it’s not even enough to say that every Sunday is Easter - really, every day is Easter for a Christian. Every day we live in the light of the resurrection and with the hope of the resurrection; resting in the promise of the resurrection and challenged by the call of the resurrection. We’re here today not to explain or to understand, but simply to proclaim: “Christ is alive. He is risen indeed!” And in the midst of that simple but profound proclamation we’re challenged to live as if it means something to us. We seek to learn how to be modern day disciples proclaiming an event that happened long ago.

     In the world around us, Easter is about bunnies and chocolate and eggs. But for Christians, Easter is about being challenged to be a disciple. Christian discipleship needs to be a way of life that keeps us connected to the grace of God and that empowers us to live according to God’s will. Christian discipleship means to grow in the fruit of the Spirit: “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.” Christian discipleship means showing concern for the poor and the marginalized. It means loving my neighbors both far and near as myself. It means generous giving of my money and other resources. It means developing within ourselves a spirit of servanthood, as I said last Sunday, so that our words and our actions are focused on serving God and others and not just on what’s best for us.

     Long ago, John Wesley wrote what is now called the “Covenant Prayer.” In some Christian traditions, a new year begins with a “Covenant Service,” where the gathered are asked to make the public commitment to serve God. This is Wesley’s prayer:

“I am no longer my own, but thine. Put me to what thou wilt, rank me with whom thou wilt. Put me to doing, put me to suffering. Let me be employed by thee or laid aside for thee, exalted for thee or brought low for thee. Let me be full, let me be empty. Let me have all things, let me have nothing. I freely and heartily yield all things to thy pleasure and disposal. And now, O glorious and blessed God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, thou art mine, and I am thine. So be it. And the covenant which I have made on earth, let it be ratified in heaven. Amen.”

     That’s a tough job. That’s a tough covenant. But it really is what we commit to when we commit ourselves to Christ. As much as Easter might be the Super Bowl and the Grey Cup and the World Series and the Stanley Cup Finals all rolled up into one event, faith isn’t a game, and it’s purpose isn’t to make us feel good. It calls us to surrender ourselves fully and in whatever circumstances. That’s tough. So - how is it possible? How can we find the faith we need to do that? On our own, we probably can’t. But we’re not on our own.

     It’s Easter that gives this faith. The God Who raised Jesus from the dead is the same God Who is active in our lives and the world now, and that God can do anything. Living by faith isn’t easy when we face not only our own weaknesses, but also a world that sometimes is filled with greed, hatred, poverty, anger, dissension, bitterness, war, terrorism, sexism, racism. But Easter promises us that our faith isn't vain. Our faith isn’t wishful thinking. Our faith is grounded in the reality of God.

     Paul explains Easter so well in 1 Corinthians 15: 

“brothers and sisters, I want to remind you of the gospel I preached to you, which you received and on which you have taken your stand. By this gospel you are saved, if you hold firmly to the word I preached to you. Otherwise, you have believed in vain. For what I received I passed on to you as of first importance: that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures, that He was buried, that He was raised on the third day according to the Scriptures, and that He appeared to Cephas, and then to the Twelve.”

     This is our faith. This is our life. Even when we’re confronted (as we are on a regular basis) with everything that seems wrong with the world - we remember! Even when we're confronted with pain and heartache in our own lives - we remember. Make no mistake about it, there are people with us today with hearts that are broken and spirits that are crushed for a whole variety of reasons. We don't know who you are. We can't tell by looking at you. But I know you're here. And if your hearts are broken or your spirits are crushed, I have good news for you. Easter is God’s answer that light triumphs over darkness, Easter is God’s answer that good triumphs over evil, Easter is God’s answer that joy triumphs over sorrow, Easter is God’s answer that hope triumphs over grief, Easter is God’s answer that laughter triumphs over tears, and Easter is God’s answer that life triumphs over death. That’s the good news of Easter! That’s what Easter really is. It’s not an event in history. It’s hope, and it’s a way of life to be lived not just one day a year - but every day, because, really, every day is Easter.

Easter Sunrise sermon - Some Things You Just Can't Understand

When the sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices, so that they might go and anoint Him. And very early on the first day of the week, when the sun had risen, they went to the tomb. They had been saying to one another, ‘Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance to the tomb?’ When they looked up, they saw that the stone, which was very large, had already been rolled back. As they entered the tomb, they saw a young man, dressed in a white robe, sitting on the right side; and they were alarmed. But he said to them, ‘Do not be alarmed; you are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, Who was crucified. He has been raised; He is not here. Look, there is the place they laid Him. But go, tell His disciples and Peter that He is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see Him, just as He told you.’ So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid. (Mark 16:1-8)

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     “God is holy mystery.” Those are the opening words of “A Song Of Faith,” which is the United Church’s most recent expression of what it is that we believe as a denomination. Somehow, those words seem appropriate. Early morning is always a mysterious time. It’s the beginning of a day. We don’t know what the day will bring. As it unfolds, it’s a mystery. It was probably like that for Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James, and Salome as well. Every day starts out as a bit of a mystery. And it was about to get even more mysterious for them. He has been raised; He is not here. 

     Those are not the words you expect to hear when you arrive at someone’s tomb. You expect to find - well - a tomb. And a body if, for whatever reason, you wanted to go into the tomb. But the only thing that greeted the women was an angel saying "He has been raised; He is not here." And I give lots of credit to Mark, or whoever it was who wrote this Gospel. He leaves it at that. No big accounts of what Jesus did post-resurrection. There were a few verses added by someone later, but Mark leaves it at that. He has been raised; He is not here. And terror and amazement had seized the women; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.

     We don’t always confront mystery very well. Generally speaking, we’ve been conditioned to want answers. You say the Lord is risen? OK. Tell me how! Because dead people don’t come back to life. So he must have been in shock, or a coma. Or something like that. Because dead people don’t come back. And probably the same objections were raised 2000 years ago as well. Dead people don’t come back. And what I like about Mark - and the other Gospel writers, although they paid much  more attention to what the risen Jesus did, is that he realizes that he’ll never satisfy the skeptics. He’ll never find any evidence to convince the unbelievers, because he doesn’t know any more than anyone else. The truth is that even the Gospel writers didn’t fully understand the resurrection, and so basically they ignored it. Yes. They ignored it. They shared with us the experiences of the disciples who encountered the risen Jesus, but they offered no explanation as to how Jesus was resurrected, or even precisely when Jesus was resurrected. Most likely, they simply didn’t know. All they knew was that they experienced Him. All Mark knows, just like those women, is that "He has been raised; He is not here." And today, reflecting on the women arriving at the tomb, we’re confronted by those same mysterious words: "He has been raised; He is not here."

      Maybe like Mark and the other Gospel writers, we shouldn’t worry about “how” it happened. They were satisfied with sharing only "that" it happened, and that it represented for them hope, a victory of life over death, which emboldened them to share the story. And so, from the very beginning of our faith, the resurrection of Jesus (the central event of our faith) has not been something to be understood – it has been something to be proclaimed. And so, proclaim it we do. We are an Easter people – which doesn’t mean that we’re Christians only on Easter Sunday, but that our  faith and our lives are on a daily basis centred on the great Easter event – the resurrection of Jesus, and what it promises us. 

     Christ is risen! He is risen indeed! Hallelujah!

Holy Saturday

For me, at least, it seems to be one of the strangest days of the year. Holy Saturday. The day between Good Friday and Easter Sunday. Good Friday commemorates the crucifixion of Jesus, and Easter Sunday celebrates the resurrection of Jesus. Holy Saturday is kind of the in between day. Not the day Jesus died, and not the day Jesus rose - simply the day Jesus was dead. So what do you do with Holy Saturday - in terms of personal devotion or liturgy? I struggle with that. On Holy Saturday, do I pray in Jesus' name? Does that make sense? When Jesus is - symbolically at least - dead? I suppose, basically, that Holy Saturday is a day of waiting. On the first Holy Saturday, the disciples must have felt rather lost, frightened, uncertain. They were leaderless. That's kind of the church on Holy Saturday. Some churches refuse to hold any services of any kind on this day. No weddings, no funerals. Nothing. Some content themselves with the Easter Vigil service, which is essentially what it sounds like - keeping vigil over the church and over the faith in the absence of the Lord. Me? I just find Holy Saturday a very strange day. The sombreness of Good Friday is over, but you can't move to the celebration of Easter. Holy Saturday is about waiting. And trusting. And believing. It's about knowing that the way from darkness to light, or defeat to victory, or sorrow to joy, or tears to laughter, is a journey. It doesn't happen all at once. But it does happen. Easter comes. It always does. We just have to wait.

March 24 sermon: Life Of Jesus # 7: The Privilege Of Service

The evening meal was being served. The devil had already tempted Judas Iscariot, son of Simon. He had told Judas to hand Jesus over to His enemies. Jesus knew that the Father had put everything under His power. He also knew He had come from God and was returning to God. So He got up from the meal and took off His outer clothes. He wrapped a towel around His waist. After that, He poured water into a large bowl. Then He began to wash His disciples’ feet. He dried them with the towel that was wrapped around Him. He came to Simon Peter. “Lord,” Peter said to Him, “are You going to wash my feet?” Jesus replied, “You don’t realize now what I am doing. But later you will understand.” “No,” said Peter. “You will never wash my feet.” Jesus answered, “Unless I wash you, you can’t share life with Me.” “Lord,” Simon Peter replied, “not just my feet! Wash my hands and my head too!” Jesus answered, “A person who has had a bath needs to wash only his feet. The rest of his body is clean. And you are clean. But not all of you are.” Jesus knew who was going to hand Him over to His enemies. That was why He said not every one was clean. When Jesus finished washing their feet, He put on His clothes. Then He returned to His place. “Do you understand what I have done for you?” he asked them. “You call Me ‘Teacher’ and ‘Lord.’ You are right. That is what I am. I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet. So you also should wash one another’s feet. I have given you an example. You should do as I have done for you. What I’m about to tell you is true. A servant is not more important than his master. And a messenger is not more important than the one who sends him. Now you know these things. So you will be blessed if you do them. (John 13:2-17)

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     I doubt that there’s a parent anywhere who spends their time dreaming about their child growing up to be a servant. That’s no one’s dream. I don’t wake up in the morning and look at Hannah and think, “Wow. I sure do hope you end up waiting on tables one day.” I mean, there’s nothing wrong with waiting on tables. We have a nephew who’s a waiter. But nobody dreams about being a waiter. It’s no one’s life goal. I mean, if you watch Batman, sure, Alfred the butler is a nice guy, but it’s Bruce Wayne you’re interested in! He’s the guy. You’d rather be the millionaire than the butler. Or, as Satan says in John Milton’s “Paradise Lost,” “Better to reign in hell than to serve in heaven.” And to be honest that’s probably not far off how a lot of people think. No one dreams of being a servant. And it’s one of the reasons that the Gospel is a tough sell - because the Gospel calls us to service, and not just to any service - it calls us to the lowliest service, and to the service of the lowliest of the low. It’s the nature of the Gospel.

     In some ways, it also seems as if it’s a contradiction. The scene that’s portrayed in John 13 happens after Jesus’ so-called triumphal entry into Jerusalem. Traditionally, this is the passage that’s been the origin of what we call “Maundy Thursday.” I’m not big on Maundy Thursday personally, largely because it’s so tied up in this passage and in the idea of foot-washing, to the point where foot washing becomes the point and it’s often re-created at such services as if this was a “sacrament” that Jesus was introducing. Yes, the words are “‘Do you understand what I have done for you? … You call Me ‘Teacher’ and ‘Lord.’ You are right. That is what I am. I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet. So you also should wash one another’s feet. I have given you an example. You should do as I have done for you.’” But lowly service is contextual. Foot-washing was a very lowly service in Jesus’ day. All you have to remember is that people wore sandals all the time, the streets were full of animals, and the animals did what animals tend to do. Washing someone’s feet was a dirty and unpleasant job in other words. Jesus isn’t really calling His disciples for the rest of history to wash each other’s feet. He’s calling on them to perform lowly acts of service for each other - things that some might even think beneath them - and Jesus sets the example for them. He’s calling for them not to be concerned with getting credit for their acts of service; not to seek to “lord it over” each other; not to worry about whether what they’re doing is dignified. He’s calling for them to simply be a community of self-sacrificing love who surrender even their own dignity for the sake of serving those who need service.

     One of the great ironies of Holy Week is the movement from the ecstatic welcome of a kingly figure to the humble service of a lowly figure to the gruesome death of a rejected figure. Palm Sunday - which emphasizes that kingly figure - is a reminder to us that Jesus is Lord - that no earthly king or power or nation claims our first allegiance; that the demands of any earthly king or power or nation have to first be filtered through the lens of Jesus’ teachings, and that we are called - when the call of king, power or nation conflicts with the call of Jesus - to choose Jesus over king or power or nation, whatever the cost of that choice might be. But there’s a little more to it than that. Palm Sunday - seen with all the background of Holy Week - challenges us to understand what kind of Lord Jesus really is. There were two choices that could have been made when the Bible and biblical language started to be translated into English. The Celtic monks who first evangelized Britain chose to adapt the Old English word “lhoaverd” into “Lord” to explain Jesus. The alternative was the Latin word “dominus.” But “dominus” meant to dominate; to control; to subjugate. It implies a forceful authority. And what does “lhoaverd” mean? It combines the Old English words for loaf and warden. It refers to the person who makes sure that everyone in the household receives their daily bread. It refers not to the one who dominates but to the one who serves. That’s Jesus. That’s what we mean when we say “Jesus is Lord.” We’re talking about Jesus the servant. And that’s us, when we claim to be His disciples.

     “You should do as I have done for you.” Those were the words of Jesus. And that’s how we should treat everyone. If you read on just a little bit in John 13, you discover that even as Jesus washed the feet of His disciples, He knew that as He washed Judas’ feet, He was washing the feet of the one who would betray Him, and as He washed the feet of Peter, He was washing the feet of the one who would deny Him. But He still washed their feet. He still served them. As disciples of Jesus, we cannot decide or make judgments about who we will or will not be willing to serve. We simply serve, because Jesus served. From the person in the pew beside us, to our children, to our next door neighbours, to shop clerks and bank tellers and waiters, to telemarketers who irritate us at dinner time, to the lowliest and dirtiest homeless person we might encounter. We simply serve. That’s what Jesus calls us to. That’s the meaning of Jesus being Lord. And because Jesus served us, when we serve others, we’re serving Jesus. That’s the privilege of service.

A Thought For The Week Of March 18

"The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self control." (Gal 5:22-23) Having faith should make a difference in our lives. If it doesn't - what's the point? If we're just the same after we come to faith as we were before we came to faith, then what's the point? Of course, we shouldn't be the same. Our faith calls us to transformation; Christ calls us to new life. This "fruit of the Spirit" that Paul describes is a wonderful way of defining the type of change we should see in ourselves. It isn't that we'll be perfect at any of these things. But they're like fruits just beginning to bud. They grow, and they grow and they grow. Sometimes they fall off. Then it all starts over again. The point is that these are the qualities that should mark a life of faith. In ever-increasing abundance we should be displaying these qualities - and calling to account those who turn away from them (whether people of faith or not) not by condemning or juding them, but by showing these qualities in the greatest abundance to them. That's setting an example. That's bearing witness to Christ with the power of our lives and not just our words. May the fruit of the Spirit burst forth from us all! Have a great week!

March 17 sermon: Life Of Jesus # 6: A Message To Jerusalem

Jesus was deeply disturbed again when He came to the tomb. It was a cave, and a stone covered the entrance. Jesus said, “Remove the stone.” Martha, the sister of the dead man, said, “Lord, the smell will be awful! He’s been dead four days.” Jesus replied, “Didn’t I tell you that if you believe, you will see God’s glory?” So they removed the stone. Jesus looked up and said, “Father, thank You for hearing Me. I know You always hear me. I say this for the benefit of the crowd standing here so that they will believe that You sent Me.” Having said this, Jesus shouted with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!” The dead man came out, his feet bound and his hands tied, and his face covered with a cloth. Jesus said to them, “Untie him and let him go.” Therefore, many of the Jews who came with Mary and saw what Jesus did believed in Him. But some of them went to the Pharisees and told them what Jesus had done. (John 11:38-46)

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     In common lingo, it’s called “sending a message.” The phrase gets used a lot. We send messages all the time - and I’m not talking about text messages or Facebook messages. I’m talking about those times when we say or do something that has a meaning that goes beyond the mere words or actions; something that we hope others will take note of. Sometimes the phrase gets used in sports. If a team beats another team that they expect to play in the playoffs, for example, it’s called “sending a message.” It’s saying “we’re better than you, and don’t you forget it.” Or in a hockey game if a player starts a fight, it’s often called “sending a message.” It’s saying “we’re tough, and we’re not going to be pushed around.” One of the more interesting examples of possible message-sending happened just a few days ago around the election of the new Pope. If you remember, when Benedict resigned, he announced that his title would be “Pope Emeritus,” and a lot of people have speculated that it could be potentially awkward and even troublesome for a new Pope to have a living former Pope around. So there was some interest in some of the first words that new Pope Francis spoke from the balcony at the Vatican: “... first of all, I would like to offer a prayer for our Bishop Emeritus, Benedict XVI.” I don’t claim to know a lot about the internal politics of the Vatican, but I assume that words are carefully chosen, and that Francis used the phrase “Bishop Emeritus” rather than “Pope Emeritus” very carefully, and that Benedict - who I’m sure was watching - probably noticed. And although I know it was a reference to Benedict's former role as Bishop of Rome, which goes along with being Pope, I have also heard that there have been more than a few within the Roman Catholic community who believe that a subtle message was sent by the words - “don’t forget who’s in charge now.” And for someone who possesses the title “Vicar of Christ on earth,” sending a message isn’t inappropriate, because Jesus was a master message sender!

     Jesus “sent messages” all the time. Jesus spoke in parables. Jesus used double entendres. Sometimes Jesus took subtle and even not so subtle shots at his opponents. He didn’t toe the party line; He wasn’t afraid to suggest to the people that their leaders might be wrong, and in the process of doing that He drove the religious leaders crazy. He did things that on the surface were hard to criticize but that deep down the religious leaders knew were swipes at their authority. Healing the sick on the sabbath? It broke the Law, as far as the chief priests and Pharisees were concerned, and it was one of the things that started their plotting, but it wasn’t really about breaking the law and it wasn’t only about healing the sick. It was Jesus’ way of subtly saying, “to God, people are far more important than religious rules.” And that was a shot at the whole power structure the religious leaders had established. And then - there was Lazarus. Today’s passage is about sending a message.

     This incident takes place just before Jesus entered Jerusalem for the last time, and he's sending a message to all those who are going to encounter him there. In John's Gospel, this story is the hinge around which the rest of the Gospel revolves. In Matthew and Mark and Luke, that place is filled by a profession of faith; those Gospels revolve around Peter saying to Jesus, "You are the Christ, the Son of God." In John, the centrepiece is an action; a moment of high drama. Jesus' good friend Lazarus is dead. He's been dead for 4 days. And Jesus sets him free and lets him loose. Jesus gives him his life back. And everyone sees; and everyone is amazed.  And some people believed, and some people reported Jesus to the Pharisees. By this message,  Jesus became news: hope for some and a threat to others. But, however, you cut it, Jesus was suddenly news. For there to be a message, of course, there needs to be two things - an audience, and a point. Jesus had both.

     The message was sent to a whole variety of people. There was a friend who was about to betray Him; there were disciples who would end up denying Him. There were the people of Jerusalem, who would welcome Him and then turn on Him. There were the religious leaders who would oppose Him, and there were the Romans who would execute Him. You could say that the message was sent to the world and to all generations, because here we are still talking about it 2000 years later! So there’s a definite audience - the question then is: what’s the point?

     In a way, this is the beginning of the chain of events that leads to the cross. If we had read on in John 11, we would have discovered that the chapter ends with the orders of the Pharisees to have Jesus arrested if he showed Himself in Jerusalem for Passover. It’s the raising of Lazarus that turns Jesus and the Pharisees into irreconcilable foes. It’s the raising of Lazarus that demonstrates Jesus’ power and authority. If, on the cross, Jesus cried out in a strange sort of triumph, “It is finished,” then with the raising of Lazarus, Jesus has essentially laid down the gauntlet so to speak, and said to all “It is begun.” Here is where Jesus brought life from death. Here is where Jesus brought hope from despair. Here is where Jesus brought joy from sorrow. Here is where Jesus brought laughter from tears. And here is where Jesus sent a message to the Pharisees: “your time is up. God has a new way. God is doing a new thing. Nothing will ever be the same again.” From this point on, the Pharisees could oppose Jesus, they could arrest Jesus, they could beat Jesus and spit on him, they could hand Jesus over to the Romans to be executed - but from this point on, they couldn’t beat Jesus. And they knew it. Jesus would triumph over anything and everything, and He still will. Not even death could stop Him.

A Thought For The Week Of March 11

"May you have more and more mercy, peace, and love." (Jude 2) If you were to sit down and make a list of the things you needed that make life worth living, I suspect that these three things would probably, after some thought, be the top 3. Yeah, it's nice to have money and a good job and a nice house and all the trappings that supposedly mean "success" in the modern world. But what would they mean to us without mercy? After all, each one of us in one way or another has done enough to hurt others that we need mercy. And what would they mean to us without peace? Too many live lives of discontent, burdened by either things they've done or things that have been done to them, and they can't let them go. And what would they mean to us without love? Love is really what makes life worth living - to love and to know that we are loved. The good news is that no matter what the state of our relationship with other people might be, we already have mercy, peace and love in abundance. These things come from God. They comfort us, they strengthen us and then they lead us into merciful, peaceful and loving relationships with those around us. Have a great week!