Chris Yaw

The Pope is driving a 5-year-old Ford Focus.

He’s traded in the Mercedes Benzs and Volvos of previous pontiffs and settled for a set of wheels that will help him follow Christ more nearly. In more ways that one, he has found focus…

Of course, Francis is still among the well-off, 93% of the world does not own a car. But in deliberately downsizing he is reminding us, like Jesus did, that the Christian life is about continually removing the obstacles that keep us from more completely following our savior.

In Sunday’s Gospel we meet a familiar character named Zacchaeus. Like you and me and Pope Francis, he is well off. We also relate to Zacchaeus’ deep desire, ‘he was trying to see Jesus.’

As the story unfolds, we see that Zaccaeus is willing to put aside his possessions, reputation, and respectability in order to get a clearer picture.

The story invites us ask: what’s getting in our way of seeking a clearer vision of Jesus? What changes is God asking us to make? What needs to stay? What needs to go?

The only thing wrong with well-stocked backpacks is that they can keep us from going as fast and as far as we want to go.

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The Pope is driving a 5-year-old Ford Focus.

He’s traded in the Mercedes Benzs and Volvos of previous pontiffs and settled for a set of wheels that will help him follow Christ more nearly. In more ways that one, he has found focus…

In Sunday’s Gospel we meet a familiar character named Zacchaeus. Like you and me and Pope Francis, he is well off. We also relate to Zacchaeus’ deep desire, ‘he was trying to see Jesus.’

As the story unfolds, we see that Zaccaeus is willing to put aside his possessions, reputation, and respectability in order to get a clearer picture.

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94% of college professors rate themselves above average.

32% of software engineers put their performance ratings in the top 5% of their company.

And the vast majority of U.S. drivers consistently rate themselves as above-average behind the wheel. It's called illusory superiority. It points to our propensity toward poor self-assessment and self-awareness.

And no one is immune.

On Sunday we will hear a familiar Bible story about a priest and a tax collector who go to the temple to pray. What follows is an exercise in illusory superiority, as the clergy person boasts of his self-worth, while the tax collector seems to see things more clearly and reaps the benefit of this parable's payoff: he is forgiven.

And this is the only viable antidote to our pervasive illusory superiority: we can awaken from our Illusions to forgiveness. God is well aware of our self-deceptions and deals with them in the most merciful way possible: God forgives us.

The questions are, how self-aware are we and how willing are we to forgive ourselves for our poor judgment?

Forgive yourself.

God does.

It happened on the first day of track practice.

That’s when the coach asked the freshman to run a quarter mile. Matt Stevens won – by a lot. In fact, during that first two weeks of track practice it became clear that Matt was the best one on the team - and had an amazing gift of speed and stamina that could take him far in track and field.

But when week three rolled around, Matt was nowhere to be found.

When I called him he told me he quit. He said he was bored and would rather watch TV and drink milk shakes.

As the year went by, the talent on the team grew to be defined not so much because we were inherently faster than others – but because we showed up and worked the program.

More and more studies seem to show that giftedness and talent actually play a small role in one’s success when compared to the capacities to work hard, keep on task, and persevere.

In Sunday’s Gospel Jesus tells his disciples a parable that urges them to do the same - not to lose heart, to keep at it, to be relentless in their pursuits.

What do we feel like quitting today? In what ways do we need more perseverance?

If Jesus is calling us to do something, chances are he’s given us the perseverance to make it happen.

Be awakened to:

What we read – because we become what we read

What we eat – because we become what we eat

Whom we befriend – because we become like our friends

How we’re entertained – because we become what we watch

What we admire – because we become what we admire

What we boast about – because we become what we boast about

What we love – because we become what we love

This Sunday Jesus is out to awaken disciples of all ages to the presences, gifts, and graces of God. When we pray for more of God in our lives, we’re really praying for more of an awareness of God in our lives. We do that by being awakened to the influences around us.

How do we need to be awakened and how is God trying to do that?

My friend is an E.R. doctor.

Every day he faces a litany of urgent cases in which life hangs in the balance.

While he’s known for his skill in triage and the breadth of his medical knowledge, what his colleagues most admire is his ability to stay calm in the midst of the pressures and complexities of his everyday work.

He’s become known for one statement, ‘One step at a time.’ When asked to predict what course a disease will take, how far a cancer will spread, when a medication will kick in, or how long it will take a patient to regain consciousness, he simply says, ‘One step at a time.’

Living in the moment is not an option for my friend, it is a necessity – and it should be for you and me.

Just look at the tyranny of the immediate that surrounds us. From financial, career, and health concerns to worry about our national elections, we are tempted to fall prey to the threats of a future we cannot predict, and in some ways, do little about.

One step at a time.

Let’s not worry about things we cannot predict.

Let’s not spend our precious hours in anxiety over a future we do not know.

Let’s not waste our precious time in apprehension of unknowable circumstances.

This Sunday we will hear Jesus talk about faith.

He will chide his disciples – which include you and me – to believe.

To believe that everything will work out, that the world is in God’s hands, that nothing happens to us outside of God’s view, and that nothing happens by accident.

For we can never forget that we are a fragile people who live precarious lives, utterly dependent upon God’s daily mercies to shield us from the unknown.

And we are called to believe that we are always in God’s hands. So let us encourage one another to have faith and believe, one step at a time.

My friend is waiting for his brother to die.

He’s at the hospital right now keeping vigil. He’s among family and friends as they seek to face the challenge of keeping calm and focused in the face of uncertainty.

This vigil will end with a death, a loss, and deep grief. Family members will be irreparably scarred. Life for everyone involved will permanently change. My friend says losing his brother will be like losing a limb.

However, in the face of such tragedy we cannot forget the coarse but bitter truth; that the upside to having your face ripped off is that at least you get to see what you look like.

Yes, there are ways in which we become aware in life. Some do so when they get a promotion, buy a new home, or fully fund their 401k.

But most of us reach a deeper sense of awareness when we go bankrupt, get divorced, lose a child, break a leg, smash the car, or fail the test.

This is not to say God makes these things happen, it is to say that our deepest tragedies offer us unparalleled opportunities to become self-aware and, often, better people.

Sunday’s gospel brings us the familiar story about a rich man and a poor man named Lazarus. It isn’t until the rich man loses everything and sits in torment that he realizes the depth of his selfishness and harbors a real desire to help others.

What are the sadnesses and failures of our lives teaching us? How are our collapses and catastrophes serving to point us to greater awareness? What are our tragedies teaching us?

Little babies in cribs cherish the presence of loved ones the most.

Retirees in rest homes cherish the presence of loved ones the most.

What happens in between is the ongoing temptation to substitute things for what we know we should cherish the most.

And we do this all the time.

How are we doing it now? To what degree do we realize that putting relationships first is what we’re made to do and in the end, what we value the most?

I was leaving Cincinnati the other day and stopped to get a milk shake.

The only problem was that I couldn’t remember exactly where the ice cream store was. After 20 minutes of driving around I finally found it. Once inside I remembered how, a few years previous, I had driven around for 20 minutes trying to find the exact same ice cream store. I was lost, but had been found. Twice.

Sunday’s gospel reminds us of how much God rejoices when the lost are found. We think of the ways we get lost. We think of the ways communities get lost, and how even nations get lost.

And we think of Jesus’ job, and our job, which is to help the lost find their way.

Teachers, nurses, accountants, realtors, mechanics – nearly every profession involves some version of this. No matter who we are and what we do, we can help the lost.

My problem is that I am often so overwhelmed with finding my own way that I don’t pay as much attention to helping others as I should. This a perennial problem in our increasingly busy and independence-minded culture.

But that need not stop us from asking: how can we help ‘the lost’ – with math homework, relationship advice, or directions to Cleveland? In what ways has God uniquely equipped us to help ‘the lost?’

When we think about it we soon discover that not only are the lost all around us, but that have a lot to bring to the table. Also in doing so not only are we usually made glad, but according to the scriptures so is heaven.

Once upon a time there was a boy named John. He was raised by selfish parents.

They drove nice cars while they dressed John in last year’s fashions.

They spent Friday nights at fancy restaurants while John ate boxed mac and cheese with a babysitter.

They went on lush vacations while John racked up student loan debt.

When John got older he got married. He had a son. He named him Jack

John treated Jack like a king.

Jack had new clothes, weekends at nice restaurants, and more than one overseas vacation.

John changed the script.

We can too.

This weekend we will hear Jesus' words on flipping the script. We will hear of the permission he gives. We will also ponder the deep aversion yet seductive attraction we encounter when dare to we follow our destinies.

Too often the script before us is one that someone else wrote. Let’s not be afraid to change it.

“I just can’t stop worrying about my parents,” a friend confided in me.

He was concerned about their declining health, where they were going to live, and how they were going to begin to divest the contents of a home they’d occupied for five decades.

“And I’m so mad at myself for worrying so much,” he said, as if that helped matters.

My friend gives voice to a lot of our misspent energies, which we while away on worrying.

Jesus knew this, which is why his most frequent advice to his disciples was not to worry.

Of course, FYI Jesus, this is much easier said than done.

What may help though, is a cubbyhole exercise.

Imagine taking that concern, aging parents, financial pressures, health concerns, whatever, and putting them into a cubbyhole. Imagine this is one of many cubbyholes on the wall. Then envision taking something else out of another cubbyhole. Maybe it’s a briefcase to help concentrate on work, or a teddy bear to engage more fully with children or grandchildren. Or maybe it’s a fishing pole so a little R&R can help us clear our minds.

Tell yourself you’ve spent enough time worry about that particular concern, and now it’s time to occupy our thoughts differently. And, if it helps, promise yourself you'll return to it later. Just, not now.

It’s important to remember that we worry about things that mean a lot to us – in other words, worry is a way we value things. And if you’re like me you’d rather be around someone who cares too much than too little.

So let’s be easy on ourselves. Forgive ourselves. Put things in their proper place. And remember to fear not, we’re in God’s hands, all will be well.

“I need another job.”

That’s what my friend said the other day after he finished paying his bills for the week.

“If I just had another $200 a month, I would be on easy street.”

While it’s true that for the desperately poor, more money is the answer to a lot of problems, for most Americans, it isn’t.

In fact, our attempts to root our security in money, possessions, power, or political candidates only takes us so far.

For example, our Gospel reading on Sunday tells about a rich man who cultivated crops then stored them up, not knowing he was going to die that night.

How much better off he would have been – and you and me – if we were to cultivate the fruits of the Spirit and enlarge the storehouses of our hearts – trusting that God will take care of us?

When we seek first, the things that God asks of us, the rest always falls into place.

After all, there are two ways to be rich: Like John D. Rockefeller and like St. Francis. One owned almost everything, the other needed almost nothing. One was rich with stuff, the other was rich with God.

When we trust in God we always have enough.

Chris Yaw

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