I've Been Thinking About God's Grace

My contribution to this week's In Port News "I've Been Thinking" column:

As of November 21 I turn 50 years old. That's an intriguing birthday. Half a century. It's not particularly old, but then again ... Well, maybe it explains why I prefer to think of myself as two 25s rather than as 50. But it is one of those milestone birthdays that pretty much force us to take stock of our lives. Have things worked out the way we wanted them to? Do we have regrets? Are there things we would have done differently if we had been given the chance?

In one sense I suppose that the answer to those questions is always "yes." Who among us can look back at the whole scope of our lives and actually say that everything has been perfect. That we've never slipped up, hurt anyone, made a bad choice. We've all done that. Christians do those things as much as anyone. A long time ago Paul wrote that "I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do." Some people look at some of the situations we Christians get ourselves into and they immediately cry "hypocrite!" Well, only if we hold others to a different standard than we hold ourselves to. I personally understand fully what Paul was talking about. Is there anyone among us who hasn't from time to time ignored the little voice of conscience in our heads and gone ahead and - in Paul's words - done the thing we do not want to do?  Probably not. If anyone reading this can say that, then - well - you're a better person that I am!

Thinking about this reminds me, of course, of the wonders of God's grace. "Grace" of course is a free gift. It is that which is given without condition, simply out of the generosity of the giver. In the case of grace, the give ris God. I've noticed over the years that there are so many people who want to put limits on the grace of God. To many it becomes conditional on this or that: good works, belief, or any number of things. But to put a condition on grace is to deny grace. Grace has no conditions; it's just grace. God extends his grace to us, as it is in God's power to do. It's not even in our power to accept or reject it. Grace is simply ours because God has given it to us. I've sometimes likened God's gift of grace to a person who anonymously slips a hundred dollars into my mailbox in the middle of the night. Once I find it, it's mine to do with as I please. I have many options. I can use it selfishly, for my own purposes; I can use it generously to help others; I can simply hide it away somewhere and never touch it; I can turn it over to the police. But what I can't do is give it back to the person who's given it to me. It's the same with the grace God bestows on each of us. We can't reject it or give it back, because it's been given to us. All we can do is use it - wisely or not. And sometimes, we'll all choose the "not." Just as Paul said, "what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do." As to the consequences for using God's grace unwisely? They, of course, are for God to decide.

Our responsibility and our privilege is simply to proclaim the existence of grace, given to the world in the form of Jesus Christ. We do that not only (and perhaps not even primarily) in words, but also in how we relate to others. We do not judge or condemn anyone. We simply proclaim God's grace and we live the love of Jesus.

My 50 years haven't been perfect. But they also haven't been a waste of time! I've had the chance to learn a lot about the grace of God in that half century, and I still have a lot to learn about it! I'm hoping that all of us take some time to reflect and be thankful for the grace of God given to us all - because, truly, none of us are perfect, and all of us sometimes do those things we know we should not do, and we fail to do the things we know we should do. But God grants us a new start. Always!

A Thought For The Week Of November 18

Jesus said that "the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.” (Matthew 20:28) Jesus is often referred to as a King - even as the King of kings. That description brings to mind a certain image: someone extremely powerful, living in a palace, with every need being taken care of by a virtual flock of servants. A life of ease and pleasure. A life where the King gets everything he wants handed to him. But that wasn't Jesus. As I thought of the King of kings, and what that status meant to Jesus, I found myself drawn to these words. Jesus serves. He serves both us and the world. He makes sacrifices. He doesn't seek anything for himself; instead he willingly gives up everything for others. This is, indeed, a King like no other king you've ever heard of. And in the way Jesus exercises his royal and divine status is a model for us in how to live with each other. We are called to serve one another; not to lord it over each other. Status shouldn't count in the church. The only thing that should matter is that the gospel be faithfully lived out in both word and deed. And actually living the gospel renders each one of us servants to each other. Think of a community in which everyone seeks to meet everyone else's needs. Where love of neighbour truly is the rule of life. Where "I" is never as important as "you." That's what Jesus was modelling. Hopefully, we can all try to live that out. Have a great week!

November 17 sermon - Family Matters

Jesus went up on a mountainside and called to Him those He wanted, and they came to Him. He appointed twelve that they might be with Him and that He might send them out to preach and to have authority to drive out demons. These are the twelve He appointed: Simon (to whom He gave the name Peter), James son of Zebedee and his brother John (to them he gave the name Boanerges, which means “sons of thunder”), Andrew, Philip, Bartholomew, Matthew, Thomas, James son of Alphaeus, Thaddaeus, Simon the Zealot and Judas Iscariot, who betrayed Him. Then Jesus entered a house, and again a crowd gathered, so that He and his disciples were not even able to eat. When his family heard about this, they went to take charge of Him, for they said, “He is out of His mind.” And the teachers of the law who came down from Jerusalem said, “He is possessed by Beelzebul! By the prince of demons he is driving out demons.” (Mark 3:13-22)

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     If you remember, a couple of weeks ago I shared some thoughts about friendship, based on the first part of Proverbs 17:17, which says that “A friend loves at all times but a brother is born for adversity.” After the service, someone commented that since I had concentrated on the first part of the verse dealing with friendship, maybe I should devote a sermon to the idea behind the second part of the verse dealing with family. It seemed like a good idea! Families are, after all, interesting things. I'm not going to deal so much with adversity, though. I want to think about the way families react to those who come to faith, because there are so many families now in which the family members believe different things – and many believe nothing in terms of faith.

     For example, I was raised by a family of heathen! I say that with great respect and even affection. It doesn't change my love for those who raised me, but it simply points out a fact. They were a bunch of heathen. My family of origin was small – and apart from those I actually lived with (which was my mother and her aunt and uncle) it consisted essentially of various and assorted cousins living mostly in Eastern Ontario, who we didn't see all that often. None of them were “churchified,” if I may coin a phrase. None of them were Christians; none of them spent any great amount of time even thinking about religious or spiritual matters, and when they did think about it, it was usually to proclaim themselves to be atheists and to denounce both belief and believers. That was the basic environment in which I was raised. Now, as we all know, God works in the most mysterious ways. I ended up in the church; I ended up knowing and believing in Christ; I ended up going into the ministry. I suspect that my family (from the closest to the most distant) never really quite figured out what to do with that. But it was interesting to see how they responded. Shortly after I began studying for the ministry I went to a family dinner in Belleville with some of my cousins. The food was brought out and put before us. As always, I picked up my knife and fork to dig in – and I noticed that no one else was starting. Actually, they were looking at me. “What's up?” I asked. “Well,” said one, “aren't we going to say grace?” I was stunned, sat silent for a moment and then said, “well, we never have before.” I think as it turned out I did say grace before that meal. But it reminded me that family is a funny thing. You can never really be sure how your family will respond to you when you take a direction they wouldn't have anticipated.

     Jesus would have understood. For Jesus, family was a complicated thing. There's even debate within the Christian church about who exactly Jesus' family was. We call Him the Son of God; we also call Him the son of Mary – which begs the question: where does Joseph fit in? The Bible speaks about Jesus' brothers; there are those in the Christian community who insist that Jesus couldn't have had brothers – that they must have been cousins. The Bible makes no reference to Jesus ever having been married; others say that Jesus could never have been accepted as a teacher in His society unless He was married. What more can I say – it's complicated! And, really, the Bible doesn't say very much about Jesus' family. Mary's a big part of the Christmas story, and also has a significant role in the Easter story. Otherwise? Just scattered glimpses; intriguing biblical hints at what the relationship between Jesus and His earthly family might have been like. And of all those interesting biblical hints, perhaps none is more interesting than this one today, recorded for us in Mark's Gospel.

     One thing that comes across loud and clear in this passage is that Jesus' own family really didn't have a clue what to make of Him. Others did – or at least others made up their minds pretty easily. In the passage that we used this morning, we actually get a sense of how four different groups responded to Jesus, and of how they perceived Him.

     The passage starts by talking about the twelve – Jesus' original disciples. They were apparently convinced about Him. To them, He was the Son of God, the one Who would reveal God's will and God's ways to them. When He called them, they came; when He sent them, they went. They were loyal; they were faithful; they believed. Then we read of the crowds that jammed into the house where Jesus went to eat. The crowds were interested in Jesus; even excited about Him. They wanted to see Him and hear Him. They may not have believed in Him – but they were interested. They were perhaps the equivalent of what we call today “seekers” - those we desperately want to get into the church. The passage ends by talking about “the teachers of the law” - not lawyers, but those who were responsible for teaching the Law of Moses to the people. They reviled Jesus. They not only disagreed with Him, they considered Him positively satanic, under the control of Beelzebul – another name for the devil! Those two extremes are still easy to find today. There are many (including, I hope, most of us in church) who are convinced about Jesus. We may not completely agree about who He was or what we should believe about Him, but He's the centrepiece of our faith; the one around Whom everything about our faith revolves. And there are those who consider Jesus (or at least we or the church who represents Him to the world) to be among the most evil organizations around. Those two extremes, I suppose, will always exist. But the most interesting group who responded to Jesus in this passage was His own family: “When his family heard about this, they went to take charge of Him, for they said, 'He is out of His mind.'”

     Those are pretty harsh words: “He is out of His mind.” I wonder why they thought that? This might be where the passage really starts to apply to us. Apparently his family thought he was out of His mind – because He was allowing who He was to start making His life a little more difficult. The problem in this passage was quite simple apparently – Jesus had gone into a house and wasn't able to eat because He had so many people following Him. It may have been a simple problem, but it represented a big challenge. It showed that as news about Jesus spread, even the simplest things would become more difficult. It would be like being an unknown extra one day and then suddenly winning an Oscar. All of a sudden there was no privacy, demands were being made on Jesus, expectations were high. Why would you want your life to change like that? And that seemed to be the cause of His family's misgivings. We sometimes think of the passage as saying that Jesus' family thought that Jesus was out of His mind to believe Himself to be the Messiah; that they thought He had become some sort of religious nutcase. But this passage doesn't support that. They were concerned about the change in His life, and what the implications of that change might be. “Who would take this on?” seems to have been their question, and their answer was that anyone who would take this on has to be “out of His mind.” Choosing to follow Jesus by definition makes a difference in our lives – and therefore to those around us and closest to us.

      The world doesn't understand the difference Jesus makes to those who truly follow Him. The world wants to get things. People want to get ahead. To follow Jesus is to follow the way of sacrifice – and that doesn't make sense to a lot of people in the modern world. Many people today will give – but they'll only give as long as they don't really miss what they're giving. Jesus set the example for His followers by giving everything. And the world doesn't understand. And sometimes the world even ridicules those who truly follow Jesus – because they don't understand. “You're out of your mind.” Possibly. By worldly standards. After all, the message of the cross is foolishness to the world around us.

     The point of the passage seems to be that those who are by default the closest to us are usually the ones who don't know quite what to make of us, and that can be a tough road to walk. It was a tough road for Jesus as well, but it seemed to work out in the end. His mother was among those at the cross on the day He died, and it's believed that James was one of his brothers – and that he became a leader of the church in Jerusalem and the author of the New Testament letter named after him. But how hard is it to hold on to faith when those closest to you don't share what you believe. It's a real issue in today's world, in which there's a virtual buffet of religions to choose from – one of which is no religion at all. And how we show our faith to those closest to us is a big issue today. The lesson we learn from Jesus is a simple one: just live it. Just do what God calls you to do. Just love as God calls you to love. Just share what God calls you to share. We worry too much about results, and we forget to leave the results to God. We're just called to be the witnesses – to those both near and far.

A Thought For The Week Of November 11

"The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit." (John 3:8) I stood this morning at the cenotaph here in Port Colborne, attending the annual Remembrance Day service in honour of those who have fallen in time of war. It was a cold day, with a very cold wind blowing. A biting, chilling wind. A strong wind that drowned out many of the speakers. Many people left partway through the ceremony, not able to deal with the wind. I found myself thinking of God - and of this Scripture in particular. What a marvellous image reminding us of why we can't possibly be in control of God and God's Spirit. It would be like trying to control the wind. The wind blows as it chooses, and God's Spirit moves as God chooses. I hear the sound of the wind, just as I see and feel and sense the guidance of God's Spirit. But I can't control either. Just as the wind has a mysterious source and a mysterious destination, I'm not aware exactly of where God's Spirit may lead me from day to day. Today, at the cenotaph, some gave in to the wind and left for home, others (including me) chose to defy the wind and remain to the end. We do the same with God's Spirit as well. Sometimes we follow the Spirit's leading; sometimes we defy that leading. But the point is that whatever we're doing, God's Spirit is like the wind - all around us and uncontrollable, getting our attention constantly, whether we choose to heed the Spirit's guidance or not. So watch and listen for the Spirit of God in the days ahead. You don't know where you might be led. Have a great week!

November 10 sermon - For What Would We Give Our Lives?

As the Father has loved Me, so have I loved you. Now remain in My love. If you keep My commands, you will remain in My love, just as I have kept My Father’s commands and remain in His love. I have told you this so that My joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete. My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. You are My friends if you do what I command. I no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his master’s business. Instead, I have called you friends, for everything that I learned from My Father I have made known to you. You did not choose Me, but I chose you and appointed you so that you might go and bear fruit - fruit that will last - and so that whatever you ask in My name the Father will give you. This is My command: Love each other.  (John 15:9-17)

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     “In Flanders' Fields” is, of course, about sacrifice. I'm very familiar with the poem. I have been since I was a young teenager. In Grades 7 and 8 I attended John McCrae Senior Public School in Scarborough – named after the author of the poem, Lt. Col. John McCrae. Not surprisingly, Remembrance Day was a big event at John McCrae Senior Public School. And, having been a student there for two years, I've visited John McCrae's birthplace in Guelph twice. It was an annual field trip for us. The recital of “In Flanders' Fields” is a standard part of any Remembrance Day ceremony, much as the recital of the Lord's Prayer is a standard part of the liturgy in many churches. And I thought about it this week as I was thinking about the whole concept of sacrifice. As I worked this through in my mind, I thought of a couple of numbers.

     The first number is 114,724. That's the total number of Canadians who've died either in war or in peacekeeping missions since Confederation. There were 267 in the Boer Wars, 66,665 in World War I, 46,998 in World War II, 516 in Korea, 121 in peacekeeping missions and 157 in Afghanistan. A total of 114,724 Canadians killed. When you first add it all up and hear that number, it makes you pause for a few moments. 114,724. Why would 114,724 Canadians sacrifice their lives? And why would so many more than that be prepared to sacrifice their lives? It's a tough topic for the church to address in some ways, because our attitudes toward war differ so greatly. Some Christians are pacifists, believing that any war for any reason is wrong. Others believe in the Just War theory, which says that war, while evil, is sometimes necessary, if only as the best of a bunch of poor alternatives. And some allow their Christianity to be effectively usurped by nationalism or patriotism or militarism, so that if the nation says “go to war,” they go (or at least they support going) in the full belief that God marches with them and is on their side, no questions asked – even though we know that many on “the other side” believe exactly the same thing. Over the years I've known a lot of veterans. For a few years in Sundridge, I served as Padre to the Royal Canadian Legion Branch 67 (for those of you not familiar with the title – it basically meant I was their chaplain.) I conducted a lot of their memorial services over those years. I came to know their stories. And I came to know that many of them were motivated by love: love for family, and the desire to make the world a better place for their families. Love for neighbour, and a desire to make sure those neighbours could live in peace and safety. Love for country, and a desire to make sure that this country would never fall victim to some of the inhuman ideologies that they fought against. War and love may seem an awkward fit, but I've known enough veterans to know that love in some form was often at the forefront of their thinking. Jesus said, “Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” That reminds me that, whatever my thoughts about war and pacifism, there are at least 114,724 people who, over the last 133 years since the first Boer War, have chosen to call themselves my friend. I choose to honour them today, as I'll honour them tomorrow at the cenotaph.

     The second number I want to reflect on today is a simple one – it's the number “1.” It's the one sacrifice that, as far as I can see, really matters to the church. I'm thinking, of course, about Jesus. The sacrifice against which all other sacrifices pale in comparison. His was not a sacrifice made in a time of war – except, perhaps, that it might be considered in the context of a spiritual war. But his wasn't a military sacrifice.  It was violent and it was bloody, but in a strange way it was Jesus' way of standing against violence and bloodshed. When Peter picked up a sword to defend Jesus against those who would arrest him, Jesus said, “Peter. Put away your sword. Whoever lives by the sword will die by the sword.” Prophetic words, indeed. For all those who have fought in any of the various incarnations of the “war to end all war,” the sad reality of human history is that one war simply seems to lead to another ... and another ... and another. The sacrifice of Jesus on the cross was, in one sense at least, a way for God to be linked with all of human suffering; a way for God to be in solidarity with His creation; a way for God to weep with those who weep. It was the “1” sacrifice, perhaps, that made a real and substantive impact on the world – because, as much as we often choose to use our faith for purposes Jesus probably never intended, the cross still stands as the supreme act of sacrifice: God, who had no need to experience either suffering or death, willingly experiencing both suffering and death to be in solidarity with His children. A sacrifice that wasn't necessary; that wasn't being called for; that Jesus didn't have to make – but that was made solely out of love. Jesus said, “Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” The “1” sacrifice – on the cross so long ago – reminds me of the great privilege of being in relationship with Jesus, my Lord, my Saviour, my Redeemer, my Friend.

     Whether we think of the “114,724” today, or whether we focus on the “1,” we think of sacrifice being made for others. We think of the desire of the 114,724 or the 1 to create a better world, a better life for others. But there's another number. I don't know what it is. It refers to my generation, and to the generations that have come after me. I'll be 50 in less than two weeks (although I prefer to think of myself as a pair of 25's!) and that means that I was born well after World War II, and while things in my generation haven't always been peaceful, there's been no need for me to choose what I'd be willing to give my life for. I (and those who've come after me) belong to a privileged (and some would say too privileged) generation, who've been given everything and who've perhaps lost sight of our responsibilities while clinging ferociously to our rights. Whenever I think about the rights that have been gained for us at such incredible cost (the right to live in freedom gained by soldiers who died or the right to be called children of God gained by Jesus who died) I can't get out of my mind a story a few months ago about a woman who hauled a men's barber shop in Toronto before the Ontario Human Rights Commission – because they only cut men's hair and not women's. And that's what “rights” have been reduced to for many people? Jesus said, “Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” Do we understand? Do we get it? I'm not sure. I'm really not. And what is it – exactly – that we who have been so privileged would be willing to give our lives for? I'm not sure about that either. I'm really not.

     But I do want to honour the sacrifices that have been made for me. I want to honour those 114,724 who gave their lives for what they believed in and because they believed they would be helping to create a better and safer world for people such as me – whom they had never met. And, of course, I want to honour the sacrifice made by Jesus, Who gave His life so that all of us might know true life. Jesus said, “Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” Yes. We will remember them. And yes. We will remember Him!

A Thought For The Week Of November 4

Peace I leave with you, my peace I give you." (John 14:27a) As Remembrance Day approaches here in Canada (and this coming Sunday is Remembrance Sunday or Peace Sunday as some call it) I - as I often do - find myself thinking about some of the words Jesus offered about peace. Did Jesus ever envisage a world without war? I don't think so. "You will hear of wars and rumours of wars," he said after all. I don't think Jesus approved of war. He seemed uninterested, for example, in taking on the Romans, and - to some extent at least - he even seemed to preach co-operation with them. So I wonder what Jesus really meant when he spoke of peace - or when Scripture declares him to be the Prince of Peace. I think the reference is not to the state of the world but is rather to a state of mind. Perhaps to Jesus, "peace" didn't mean the absence of war. Perhaps it meant contentment. Think of the difference it could make to the world if we could learn to be content. We wouldn't be selfishly grasping after what others have, and we might even be more willing to share what we have with others. That would be a radical change in the mindset of how the world operates - and, if put into practice, it might even lead to the absence of (or at least the reduction of) war in the world - because if we're content to the point at which we're willing to share, then what would be the point of fighting? It seems to me that's the kind of "peace" Jesus is offering. Not just putting an end to war and violence, but changing our minds and our hearts so that war and violence become increasingly unthinkable. Have a great week!"

November 3 sermon - What Is A Friend?

A friend loves at all times but a brother is born for adversity. (Proverbs 17:17, NIV)

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     For whatever reason, I have found myself in recent weeks giving a lot of thought to the concept of friendship. What is friendship? For that matter, what is a friend? It's a very relevant topic for the church; a relevant topic for those who claim faith in Jesus Christ. Friendship is a very biblical concept! But what is it? In a way, the word is hard to define. It's one of those words that's been cheapened a bit in the modern world by the whole concept of “Facebook friendships” - sort-of quasi-relationships that we have with people who we sometimes have never even met face to face, and yet we call them “friends.” Maybe that makes it even harder for us to understand the importance of friendship. I don't know if you've ever thought about it, but “friends” are strange things – not the people, but the concept! There's an old saying that “you can choose your friends, but you can't choose your family.” It's probably based on the same principle that Proverbs 17:17 is based upon. And yet I'm not even really sure that's true. Do we always get to “choose” our friends, or do they sometimes just appear in our lives as if they're a part of some sort of plan to help us through a little bit of life and its challenges? It seems to me that perhaps the best friendships are often the ones that surprise us: when the most unexpected people enter our lives in the most unexpected ways, and touch us very deeply. Maybe from time to time we even find ourselves having unexpected “best friends” - those same unexpected people who come in unexpected ways who we find ourselves with an immediate connection to, and who we end up unburdening our souls to, always safe and secure in the knowledge that whatever we tell them won't go any farther. And, let's face it – we all have some unburdening of the soul to do every now and then in our lives, don't we, and when there's someone in our life we can do that with? Well, it's a very precious thing indeed. And sometimes those unexpected friends go away. They touch us, they help us, maybe they even change us – and then they leave for one reason or another, but they always leave something behind for us to cherish don't they, because they've touched our lives and our hearts and our souls in precious ways.

     In John 15, Jesus said to His disciples “I have called you friends.” Think about that for a moment. Jesus – saying to His disciples (including us): “I have called you friends.” We call Him Lord, Saviour, Messiah. He calls us “friends” - and implicitly invites us to call Him a “friend” in return.

     Think about what I just said about friendship. Think about how Jesus entered the lives of those first disciples. Maybe think about how Jesus entered your life. Or mine. Unexpectedly. Suddenly. Perhaps without warning, maybe without us realizing that He was even there. Maybe without us realizing that we even needed such a friend. Someone to Whom we can unburden our souls, sure in the knowledge that what we say is safe and protected – and also forgiven, because in addition to being our friend, Jesus is, as Scripture declares, the grace of God that entered the world so long ago – the grace that assures us that nothing in our lives can change one very simple and important fact: God loves us with an unshakeable love that can never be changed. And that's a part of friendship too, isn't it? Sometimes friends come in and out of our lives, but even when they feel out of our lives (and there are times when Jesus seems rather distant to me to be perfectly honest) we know that they're still there. Jesus told His disciples “I have called you friends.” And then He was arrested, and crucified and killed and buried. And then His disciples were stunned, shaken, confused, fearful, lost and alone – but never quite without hope, because Jesus had also said, “I'll be killed, but three days later I will rise again.” And then comes the glory of Easter – strange perhaps to mention on the first Sunday of what some people consider to be the bleakest and grayest month of the year – but are we not an Easter people all year round? A people who believe in the presence of Jesus? A people who believe that the friendship He gives to us can never really be taken away? I hope you believe that. I know that I do!

     Proverbs 17:17 says “a friend loves at all times.” Not just some of the time. Not just in the good times. Not just when you're on your best behaviour. Not just when you have something to offer them. Not at all. “A friend loves at all times.” We've probably all had people in our lives we think of that way. But we also have Jesus. “I have called you friends.” He loves us “at all times” - and probably often in spite of ourselves. I started thinking about the love of Jesus when we sang one of our hymns last Sunday. It was the one based on the Beatitudes. A couple of people talked to me afterward and expressed how beautiful they thought it was and said they hoped we'd sing it again. We're going to. In just a minute. When you think about the Beatitudes, you're thinking about friendship. Those who have almost nothing to offer in return, being the most blessed people of all – because they are Jesus' friends. And I thought about this line: “Blest are they who suffer hate, all because of Me,” which is a fair paraphrase of the Gospel. That's a statement of friendship. I had never thought of Jesus apologizing before, but isn't that in a way Jesus saying to us, His friends, “I'm so sorry for what you sometimes have to go through because of Me.” That's love. That's friendship. Straight from Jesus: “I have called you friends.”

     What is a friend? Look to Jesus. His life, His death, His resurrection. What is a friend? You'll know the answer when you look to Jesus. Let's sing this wonderful version of the Beautitudes, celebrating the friendship of those who have so little with Jesus – Who is All in All!

Blest are they, the poor in spirit, theirs is the Kingdom of God.

Blest are they, full of sorrow, they shall be consoled.

Rejoice and be glad! Blessed are you, holy are you!

Rejoice and be glad! Yours is the Kingdom of God!

Blest are they, the lowly ones, they shall inherit the earth.

Blest are they who hunger and thirst, they shall have their fill.

Rejoice and be glad! Blessed are you, holy are you!

Rejoice and be glad! Yours is the Kingdom of God!

Blest are they who show mercy, mercy shall be theirs.

Blest are they, the pure of heart, they shall see God!

Rejoice and be glad! Blessed are you, holy are you!

Rejoice and be glad! Yours is the Kingdom of God!

Blest are they who seek peace; they are the children of God.

Blest are they who suffer in faith, the glory of God is theirs.

Rejoice and be glad! Blessed are you, holy are you!

Rejoice and be glad! Yours is the Kingdom of God!

Blest are you who suffer hate, all because of Me.

Rejoice and be glad, yours is the Kingdom; shine for all to see.

Rejoice and be glad! Blessed are you, holy are you!

Rejoice and be glad! Your is the Kingdom of God!