Saints Win!

Given the history of what the world does to saints and that New Orleans' sweet victory raises the stakes (no pun intended) and invites further body-crushing preparation for the team, the headlines are encouraging. But this post isn't really about football; it's about what happened next after confessing my ungrateful spirit yesterday. I appreciate, however, the parable.

During the football game (to which I paid micro-minimal attention, and attention only when Paul pointed out the come-back locomotive who ran over someone already down, and the guy who lost the ball and scratched his way beneath the chaos to regain it), I was reading William Manchester's World Lit by Fire, an account of technology's impact on pre-Renassiance society and the Church. Given the reality that civilization is built on barbarism (Thomas Mann in Magic Mountain), it's a miracle that Humanity has endured the history of church and political leadership, health care, food supply, class structure, and laws. And though I can be as cranky as anyone when discussing current political and religious leadership, gratitude and faith rose in my heart last night. The Spirit of Truth has, in spite of wars, greed, selfishness and mistakes, remained to guide and deliver the world God loves. The development of technology and good laws (though at various times halting, slow and crude) has (comparatively) created a society of kings and queens-- at least in the Western World. In so many respects, we've come a long way. Thank God.

After the football game, I put down my book to listen to The River (a radio station broadcasting out of Harrisburg, PA) and the music of Rotten Belly Blues. As I listened, I went through greeting cards I've saved over the 23 years since the death of our fourth child, Laura Anne. I didn't intend to read them--after last summer's flood, we're trying to purge our home for the sake of whomever has to deal with our stuff when we no longer can. Perhaps doing this will aid in the development of other grateful spirits; ie: "Thank goodness our inheritance is money and not magazines, broken nicknacks and dusty Christmas ornaments," rather than, "Where the heck did they get all this c---??" I ended up, however, opening each card and reading each comment. As I did, I felt like a parent to myself, grateful for the care and love Paul and I received when we were 23 years younger and finding our way through the wilderness of grief. After re-experiencing the response from our various communities, I couldn't sleep for overwhelming gratitude.

Heaven's grace is consistent; make a true confession ("I have an ungrateful spirit"), and confirmation will follow ("yes, you do!"), bringing the help needed to change.

Our worship service began yesterday with the opening song to the musical Godspell, "Prepare ye the way of the Lord!" As I lay in bed last night, awake and thankful, I remembered Psalm 50, a merciful rebuke and warning to remember and reconsider. The final word is given to saints who offer thanks; they are the ones who honor God and prepare the way so that his salvation may be shown.

Go saints!