As we all begin to look to Bethlehem and consider the poverty of that first Christmas, I have been considering my own journey to Bethlehem and my own journey deeper and deeper into poverty.
Obviously, I have made a vow of poverty as a religious sister, which means I have rescinded the right to possess and acquire. Eleven years into my life in community, I am seeing that every year includes an invitation to a deeper reckoning with this vow, gift, and call. It turns out that giving up excess “stuff” is just the tip of the iceberg of poverty! I have found that it’s much more frightening for me to “give away” other “riches” in my life: my sense of responsibility, my self-importance, and the respect and esteem of others.
The invitations to poverty Jesus continues to extend have become for me a road to Bethlehem and Christ’s own poverty. As I walk this road each day, I am confronted by my helplessness to “fix” the grinding pain in the lives of those I know, the lack of measurable productivity in my days, and the incomprehension with which my life is met at times.
Along the road, God has used the words of others as “lights,” helping me to trust that this ever-deepening poverty is still His will and His calling, even when it’s hard and even when I feel like I’m failing. I wanted to share some of those “word-lights” with you to offer you a glimpse of our life and apostolate in downtown Steubenville:
“You gave God to me, and now I get to give Him to my son.”
One of the surprises of the past few years has been the number of people I meet who have never heard the Gospel, or never heard it told clearly enough to know what it had to do with them. This is particularly true of the people I’ve met at the Urban Mission shelter in downtown Steubenville. Last spring, I offered a Bible Study at the shelter each week. I was shocked when, I taught on the parable of the Prodigal Son/Merciful Father and was met by breathless excitement from the guests who came. They had never heard the story – none of them – and were dying to know what happened as I told it little by little. One of the women from this Bible study has become a friend and we get together for instruction on the faith and on prayer. Recently, she called me after taking her young son into a church. I was floored by her words, “You gave God to me, and now I get to give Him to my son.”
Prayer:
Jesus, when we doubt our effectiveness as your ambassadors, help us to believe that we are “giving You” to the people we meet.
“You are a pastor, Sister.”
These words, solemnly proclaimed by Pastor Toni, stilled a gale of laughter at the Urban Thrift a few months ago. We – Pastor Toni, a few other sisters, and myself – had been laughing because in the midst of an earnest conversation, Pastor Toni had slipped and called me, “Pastor.” As we laughed, she reconsidered, looked me in the eye, and said, “But you are a pastor, Sister.” This word was a promise and a challenge to me: a promise that my life and love are shepherding people to the one fold of Jesus and a challenge to accept that gift and that responsibility more fully.
Prayer:
Jesus, when we feel our lives are small and our work is unimportant, help us to know that You entrust us with the care of souls and we can lead others to You by our life and love.
“There you were – here you are”
True confession: though I asked and advocated strongly for the use of a cell phone for ministry (a flip phone, for the record!), I have sometimes been concerned that it is a concession to worldliness. That concern was shattered by these words by a former guest of the Urban Mission shelter. I was impressed by the deep faith I saw in her – a faith she shared in Bible study and in her friendships with other guests. But I didn’t know if I’d ever see or hear from her again: after her short stay at the shelter, she left town, and that was in my pre-cell-phone days.
Six months after our meeting I got a message letting me know that this woman had called for me, asking for prayer. Since that first tearful call, we’ve been keeping in touch here and there as she is courageously rebuilding her life. One of these conversations ended with her expressing what it meant for me to be “around” during those hard days at the shelter and what it means that she can still call. “There you were – here you are” were her last words on the subject.
Prayer:
Jesus, when we doubt that “being there” wherever You call us really matters, remind us that it is You we carry into every place we go and You matter tremendously.
-Sr. Agnes Therese Davis, T.O.R.
