Fearfully and Wonderfully Made

Thursday, February 26, 2015

Reality: Why my kids are in church.

My husband and I were recently with a couple young boys who occasionally attend our church and occasionally attend other churches, as well. The conversation steered toward what the other church was like.

Them: "We go with all the kids and play games and stuff."
Me: "So, you don't sit in the sanctuary?"
Them: "No, we aren't allowed in there...not until you are 13."

The conversation went on for awhile, but let us just take a moment to ponder these words -

"We aren't allowed in there."
This, my friends, is the honest thought of a child who attends a church with a "children's church." He is not allowed in "there."

I understand the desire for children's church. I do.

First, we think it will make kids like church more. Well, duh. Yes, it will. They play games. They sing songs. They watch puppet shows. It is great. Of course it will make kids love church...

Except it won't, because they aren't learning to love church. They are learning to love a form of churchtainment we have come up for them to attend. Someday (according to the boy from our church, when they are 13), they will be expected to know how to act and what to do in a place very foreign to them. Church is suddenly not exciting and rather boring, because they have little to no idea of what is happening.

Second, we think it will make church better for the adults (especially the parents). Well, duh. Yes, it will. I have three children four-and-under, and I sit alone in the pew. I get it. The idea of listening fully to a sermon or letting a hymn run completely through my brain is like some distant dream. Of course it would make church better for me if they weren't fidgeting all over the place...

Except it won't, because it splits families into age groups and doesn't allow them the joys and struggles of learning the faith together. We take away the joys of answering the questions our kids come up with during a service. We take away the beautiful site of the young and the old receiving Christ's gifts as a Christian family. We take away the moments when our children look up at us and see us living the faith in Word and deed.

Third, we think it will grow the church. Well, duh. Yes, it will. The more programs we have and the bigger our children's church, the more people who will come themselves or allow their kids to hop on the van. Of course it will grow the church...

Except it won't, because we don't grow the church through the quality or quantity of age-appropriate programs we offer. God grows the church through His Word being preached correctly into the ears of unbelievers. Law and Gospel grows the church. The Word preached through the mouths of pastors grows the church. That Word is found in church.

Fourth, we think it will allow our teens and young adults a way to get involved in church by teaching the younger kids. Well, duh. Yes, it will. They will probably feel a lot of pride toward their kids. Of course it will allow our youth and young adults a way to get involved in church...

Except it won't, because they won't be involved in church. They will actually be missing church in order to go teach about things they learned when they were younger, too. Thereby missing the instruction they need to be receiving in the pew. And this goes for the adults and older people running the children's church, too. We are all like children in church and need to hear the Word.

Do our kids need age-appropriate instruction in order to understand the great mysteries of the faith? Of course! Sunday School rocks at this. Catechism class rocks, too. And you know what rocks the most at child-centered, age appropriate, kid-geared faith learning? Parents.

Parents who attend church with their children.
Parents who see the struggles their child faces in life.
Parents who seek out ways to learn the basics of the faith so they can instruct their children.

I do want to throw out a little caveat here. I am the grown version of a children's church raised kid. And I think I am pretty awesome. HA! It is not impossible for God to work through children's church and the people who teach it. My parents rocked at the whole teaching-the-faith thing at home. We memorized Scripture together and prayed together. I do, however, believe I would have learned to vocalize my beliefs at a much younger age and in a much deeper language had I been able to witness the church in its fullness every week.

The church has a language and the best way to teach a child any language is by immersing them in it from infancy. That language and vocabulary they hear week after week will be what starts to spew from their hearts and their mouths.

That is why my kids are in church.

Sunday, January 4, 2015

Reality: An Anniversary Worthy of Celebrating

On February 11th, 2011, Solomon became a Stout for life.
In honor of this amazing gift from God, we celebrate his Adoption Day Anniversary by collecting donations for a pro-life cause in our world.

For LIFE.
Always for life.

In 2015, we have chosen to collect donations for Swaddling Clothes. You can learn about what Swaddling Clothes is by looking at their website - www.swaddlingclothes.org.

Basically, they are stores full of everything needed for raising a baby, and people who need it can shop for free! The current four locations are run by LCMS congregations, and they are always looking to grow into new communities, as well. Most of the clothes and toys are all by donation (gently used and gathered from the community), but there are always needs that cannot be met by used items. The money you donate will be used to purchase necessary items for each location - diapers, wipes, formula, carseats, etc.

Why is this an important organization? Because being pro-life isn't political. It isn't just saying, "Hey, I'm pro-life."

It is stepping into the community and saying, "Here is how we show we are pro-life." It is reaching out to those women and men in need of help during pregnancies which they did not expect. It is offering a hand to those who choose life. It is offering financial support to those who are out doing this work.

In 2011, Solomon became a Stout for life. May he always be for life. May we all always be for life.

If you are interested in donating in our son's name, please write checks payable to "Swaddling Clothes" and write our son's birthname/adoptive name in the memo line - "In honor of Solomon Hoem Stout" Checks may be sent to:

Swaddling Clothes
C/O Katie Fiene
PO Box 225
Channahon, IL 60410

Mrs. Fiene has graciously offered to collect all the donations and divide them equally among all four Swaddling Clothes locations (Channohon, IL, Golconda, IL, Marengo, IA, and Keller, TX).

Here are where previous donations have been given:
2012 - Solomon's adoption agency, Bethany Christian Services in Waukesha, WI.
2013 - Pastor and Mrs. Weslie Odom, in memory of their daughter Matilda Grace, who was diagnosed with Down Syndrome and passed from this life from a heart condition just a couple days after birth.
2014 - A Place of Refuge in southern Wisconsin, a crisis pregnancy center.

If you are interested in reading about Solomon's Adoption Day in February of 2011, please feel free to read on -

ADOPTION FINALIZATION DAY

All in all, adoption finalization day hadn't seemed so important to us. Solomon's birthday – hugely important. The day we picked him up from the hospital – momentous occasion. Solomon’s baptism – beyond compare. However, the normal BIG moments of an adoption didn’t seem like such big things for us. The termination of parental rights, the visits from the adoption agency, the finalization…it was all sort of extra to the point that we were just living our lives. We lived as a family, we visited the birth family, we took pictures on month birthdays, we had the typical milestones – flipping over, scooting, crawling, teething, sitting up, baby food, and we had the typical pitfalls of parenting – made some minor mistakes, had to watch him get his regular shots, stayed up crazy hours at night, had to live through baby illnesses, diaper rash, diaper explosions, you name it, we did it. We were a family, like any other family. Nothing seemed incomplete or missing. Sure, Solomon didn’t have our last name, but we had grown to love his name and where it came from. It wasn’t something we were ashamed of – it was part of him, which made it perfect.

Now, though, I thought about what it means to be a family in the legal since. We were already family, obviously. However, the government really has a lot to say about who my family is. If Chris and I had died before the finalization was complete, what would have happened to Solomon? We had chosen with Bethany Christian Services who we would like to have given rights to. However, until that finalization form was signed, he was under legal guardianship of the state and Bethany Christian Services. Technically, he may not have ended up with anyone in our family. We were not a family according to the state of Wisconsin. That thought was a lot for me to take in.

On February 11, 2011, at approximately 9:00 a.m., the Stout family (Chris, Solomon, and I) arrived at the Vel R. Phillips Juvenile Justice Center in Wauwatosa, WI. This is the location of all of the Milwaukee County Children’s Courts. One of the most shocking experiences for us was that all of the courtrooms in this building only saw children’s cases, and certainly most of these cases are not as happy as our little family. Walking through this center was somewhat surreal. There were children around, parents, foster families, lawyers, principals, judges, and most were not seemingly in good conversations. The thought of the anguish of all of these families on our very special day was another humbling experience. We felt the great needs coming from all of these families, and the burdens were so heavy. As we waited outside Judge Christopher Foley’s courtroom, we were chatting with other families about Solomon and a little bit of our story. Everyone was so joyous towards us, which was very comforting. They were here for many different reasons – most of which were not happy occasions – but they all seemed to have a sense of excitement for us. The love from strangers was sweet and innocent and communal.

Judge Foley’s courtroom door swung open with two people – a father and a lawyer – discussing the previous case. I have no idea what was said or done, but by the body language, it seemed unpleasant. At that moment, I thought to myself about what a difficult job Judge Foley must have. I thought about the anguish I had seen in the faces of many of the people coming and going in these courtrooms. I thought about the children I had seen – children of school age, obviously not in school, but in court. It was almost too much for me to handle in that moment. My emotions were getting the best of me. Then, something amazing happened. The courtroom door swung open again, out walked the judge, and he turned to us, looked at Solomon, and with the biggest smile and jovial voice, he said, “Well, Solomon, it’s your big day! Are we gonna have some fun in there or what?!?!” I was so shocked that I just smiled and waited for him to say something else. Chris and I both felt instantly comforted by his attitude and personality.

We stepped in the courtroom with Solomon, representatives from Bethany Christian Services, and the judge. There were two other women in the room (court recorder and the person who swears you in) and a man who was the bailiff. The judge escaped to his private office in the back and came out in his full robe, but he didn’t sit at the bench. He came down to our seat and handed Solomon a present – a stuffed dog that barks when you squeeze it. Solomon smiled, and the judge said it was a gift from all of them for his big day.

The hearing began. The social worker from Bethany Christian Services was called to the stand as a witness. She was asked a series of questions about us: our marriage, our home life, our ability to parent, our intentions, and our dedication to the child. It may seem all grim and stark on paper (or computer screen, depending on how you are reading this), but Judge Foley made the whole thing seem very fun and easy-going (he joked around between questions – making comments about how we only had to sign for 18 years but kids will be around a lot longer than that for parents to take care of and college is when they really get expensive, he commented about the joys and perils of raising 7 of his own children, etc). He had previously read the entire file concerning our adoption, and therefore, already knew all the answers to these questions. This was just a legal formality to have these written in the court records. He dismissed the social worker from the stand.

Then, he asked for either Chris or I to take the stand. As he was asking for one of us, he stepped off the bench and came down and asked me if Solomon would allow him to hold him. I handed Solomon over, and the judge put him up on his head as he walked back to the bench. Solomon reached out and began pulling the judge’s hair. Judge Foley said, “Solomon! What are we going to do with you? You know this is a federal offense – you are assaulting a judge!” So, there was Solomon sitting on the lap of the judge on the bench. Judge Foley handed his gavel to Solomon. It went straight into his mouth. The judge looked at me and laughed. I said, “Fair warning, your honor, he has two teeth and will probably chew marks in your gavel.” The judge responded, “Oh, I am not worried about that! There are quite a few teeth marks in this gavel from other adoptees.” So, for the rest of the questioning, Solomon used Judge Foley’s gavel as a chew toy.

Chris took the stand – mostly because my husband is a big dork and thinks it is cool to use his God-given right of swearing in the presence of a courtroom and judge. So, he was sworn in on the stand…and he loved it. Funny guy! Anyway, the questions then came – most of them were the same questions the judge had asked the social worker. I can’t remember all of them, but here is an overview of the topics: “Is there a history of or a current issue of domestic violence in your home?” “Is it true that you have spoken to Bethany Christian Services representatives on many occasions about the duties, rights, and responsibilities of parents?” “Do you understand your rights and responsibilities as parents?” “Have you or your wife ever been convicted of a crime?” “Is it your intention to provide for the basic needs of this child until he reaches the age of 18…and much longer, I am sure?” To this last question, Chris responded, “Yes…with the help of God.” The judge looked caught off guard and began to laugh. He said, “Yes, Mr. Stout, it will take an enormous amount of help from God to pull this task off…let me tell you…I certainly know that with my own seven.” At that, the judge asked if there was anything else “Mr. Stout” would like to share for the record. Chris said, “Yes, actually. Thanks for being so cool about this!” The judge burst out laughing, turned to his court reporter, and said, “Please put that in the record. I have been called a lot of things, but I have never been called cool! I can’t wait to print this out and show it to my kids.” Chris stepped down from the witness stand. The judge turned to me and asked me to state my name for the record. Then, he asked me if I was in agreement with my husband on all of his responses. I said yes, and that ended the questioning.

Judge Foley said that he was in full agreement with the recommendation of Bethany Christian Services and that he was assigning full custody and parental rights to Mr. and Mrs. Christopher and Kelly Stout. He looked at Solomon (still on his lap) and said, “Well, Solomon Stout, you want to make this official? You hold onto this gavel.” At that, he and Solomon slammed the gavel down.

So, about 20 minutes after it started, the Stout family walked out of Judge Foley’s courtroom. We had walked in a family, and we walked out a family. Only this time, Wisconsin agreed that we were indeed a family. We now added Adoption Finalization Day to our list of big family moments.

Solomon and Judge Foley finalizing the adoption case by slamming the gavel.

Monday, December 22, 2014

Reality: From These White Eyes

We use a pepper grinder. And, yes, our use of a pepper grinder does have to do with something important. Just go with me.

Awhile back, we had the youth of our church over to our house for cooking and sharing in a meal and Bible study. One of them asked me for the pepper. I handed it to her.

About a full minute later she turns to me and says, "Uhh, do you have any black people pepper? I don't know how to use this white people pepper."

White people pepper. I laugh about this every single time I cook with our pepper.

The truth is I write about pretty much any topic, and I happen to be pretty honest about most things. But I haven't yet ventured into talking about being the white woman in our black church. Race topics are scary, because no matter what I say, someone is bound to be offended. My husband is not only the white pastor of a black church. He is also the white pastor of a black church in the south. He is also the white pastor of a black church in the south who happens to be the father of a black/Puerto Rican son.

Race is something we are keenly aware of, and the way I am about to speak about it comes from a woman who is also keenly aware of her own prejudices and the racist comments she, her family, and her church family hear quite often.

Our church has had mostly white pastors throughout its 115 year history. Being a family based church, our members are used to having a white pastor. Us coming here was nothing new to them. But it is something very foreign to everyone else around the community. When we are out and about at community events or out at the grocery store, a member will see us and wave. They turn to their friends and say, "That's my pastor." Inevitably, the friends look at us, and then look over, around, and through us, asking, "Where?" When they finally realize we are the people they are looking for, they can never conceal their shock. "Who? Them?"

I always want to say, "Yes, this white man over here and his totally hot wife."

You see, in the south, you can drive by most average-sized churches and say, "White church. Black church. White church. Black church." There are some mega-churches that are more diverse, but the average Christian church in the south is pretty segregated. My husband is the only pastor in the surrounding area that doesn't match the color of his church. So, it isn't so surprising that others in the community just can't quite understand how that white man and his hot wife could possibly be at a black church.

There are people who talk about how horrible this is. How dare we have such segregation in church? But, you know, we have been here for two-and-a-half years, and I get it. First, churches usually grow based on family growth and friends and neighbors who attend with members. Who is their family? Who are their neighbors? Who are their friends? If Sundays are segregated, it is because our lives outside of church are segregated. For the good and the bad. People find comfort in others with similar experiences and cultures. Segregation is not necessarily bad. But it certainly can be...

Like the white people who come to our church, love the service, appreciate the Law and Gospel preached from the pulpit, and then tell my husband they just don't think they could handle being the only white people. And then they don't return.

Yes, that happens.

But, after a few years here, I sort of get that, too.

It was so intimidating at first. Have you ever walked into a place where everyone else was one color and you were another? Most black people have had this experience a million times. But us white people could literally go our whole life without ever feeling that way. Not here. From ordination day through to this morning in the pew, I have found myself as the only or maybe one of two or three white women on any given Sunday or Wednesday or Saturday or any day we spend at church.

I have gotten compliments about my growing booty during pregnancy and my "big legs" (not exactly compliments to a white woman). I get looks of total bewilderment when the topic of having to wash my hair everyday comes up. People are totally shocked by the fact that my young kids never go to any family members' houses for a couple weeks at a time. When I was out and about shortly after giving birth, I created all sorts of chaos (most black babies don't make public appearances for about four weeks). When they invite us to a party that starts at 1 pm, and we show up at 1 pm, we are the only party happening for another hour or so. I get called "the first lady of Mt. Calvary" with all sincerity and honor. Culturally, we are different.

Some of that is because we are white and some of that is because we are northerners. Who knows which is in play at any given moment? But, the fact is, we are different.

Now, notice I didn't say we are better or worse. That would be racist. Pointing out the fact that we are indeed different is not racist. It is fact.

So, when those white people say they just don't know if they could do it. Well, it takes some getting used to. It takes questioning your own untalked about traits that are derived from how you were raised. It takes a thick skin, no matter the color, to let the compliments of others be actual compliments in your mind. It takes repeated times of feeling like you are the only one to not even noticing you are the only one anymore.

I have previously said our oldest child is black/Puerto Rican. For the first few weeks here, he was quite nervous around our black members. He was not even two yet, and really hadn't been around too many people who were anything but white. There is one white man in our church, and our son would shy away from every handshake besides his. It was quite embarrassing. I thought, "Oh no. We are raising a black child who is afraid of black people."

But, you know, just like it took me a few weeks, months, maybe even years, to start forgetting that I was the only white person in the room, he, too, started forgetting his fears. The black members looked just as common to him as that one white man. Something that had been foreign to him and his understanding of the world was changing.

And so was mine.

Have you ever noticed how white most Jesus pictures are? I have. Have you ever tried to find cheap kids' Biblical coloring books with racially accurate pictures? I have. Have you ever tried to find theologically good children's literature with black people in the images? I have. Look, I know Jesus and most Biblical figures were not black, but they weren't white either. This is just something I didn't think about before being here. This kind of experience changes your thought patterns.

About half a mile down the road from our church, there is a wall. It goes the length of an entire street. It is the wall that divided our city in the heat of the racial segregation years. The white people lived on one side and the black people lived on the other. The wall is still there. It is a constant reminder of things that can sometimes become distant in our minds.

We live on the black side of the wall. We aren't the only white people on this side now, but pretty close. Time doesn't change everything.

Black men from church stand at least 20-30 yards back from the door when I answer. One man refused to pick something up from the house when he found out I would be the one giving it to him. "Well, it used to be illegal for a black man to even talk to a white woman. I just can't do that. I just can't."

There are members of our church who have grandparents who were slaves. Their grandparents were slaves. Just let that soak in for a minute. We aren't talking about generations ago. We are talking about grandparents.

Why am I telling you all of this? Well, because I know not everyone will be blessed to have this kind of experience.

One of our young adult members recently told us that she told her co-worker she was Lutheran. They said, "Lutheran? What? Why are you Lutheran?" She said, "I have always been Lutheran. I was born this way." The person said, "I've never met a black Lutheran before." Our member responded with, "Well, every Lutheran I know is black...besides my pastor."

It is all about perspective, folks.

In the end, all the differences really don't matter. We baptize our babies and sing, "See this wonder in the making..." together. We receive the body and blood of Christ and sing, "I know it was the blood for me..." together. We confess our sins and say, "We confess we are by nature sinful and unclean..." together. We wait for our Lord to return and sing, "O Come, O Come, Emmanuel" together.

We are together.
One faith. One Lord. One Baptism.

No matter what kind of pepper we use...

Saturday, December 13, 2014

Reality: Beautiful Chaos

I was talking to my mom on the phone the other day. As we were speaking, she was working on the house for our arrival in late January. I laughed and said, "When we have guests over, we can't get ready until about an hour beforehand. You are preparing for us in like 6 weeks! Six weeks in the life of a mom with three-under-five is like 10 years!"

We both laughed. She said, "Well, I don't have little hands tearing apart what I put up. No one here to mess up what I clean up!"

And it really made me think.

The chaos. The mess. The "zoo-like" noises my mother always remarks about while talking on the phone. The little people.

I don't want to downgrade how hard this time in my life is, but I also want to remember that one day I will be preparing for my children to arrive for six weeks. Someday my house will be quiet and clean. Someday I will be wishing for the sounds of little feet. I will be sadly remembering all the food that used to be dropped under their seats as I clean the table of two plates.

And that is why I don't want to wish away the chaos, the mess, the zoo-like noises, and the little people. I want to embrace it and gather it all into the recesses of my mind. I want to have easy access to those memories.

Easier said than done, of course.
When life and chaos and noise gets me down.
When I am on my hands and knees cleaning up dropped food.
When they push every button I have and every button their siblings have.

So, here is to the reality. Soak it up, Kelly. Embrace it. Someday you will clean your house and it will stay clean...and you will probably shed a tear because of it.

Enjoy the memories of a home dirty with love and chaos...beautiful, zoo-like chaos -

The leftovers from what was supposed to be a "clean" attempt at a toddler activity. And yes, every home we have had in the last three years has had carpeted dining rooms. Nice.

The pile outside our daughter's room. Every night after she goes to bed, I clean up the house and don't dare open her door to put away stuff, so the pile grows...until the morning, when inevitably, I forget to put it away, and it gets thrown all over the house again to be cleaned up the next night. Every.Single.Time.

The rug that drives me bonkers, because every.single.time I put it down flat, one of the boys plays "caterpillar in chrysalis" and rolls up inside it to turn into a butterfly. Yes, they really do that. Every.Single.Time.

The never-ending piles of laundry. Most are folded, and just not put away. Here, you see clothes folded into a kids toy box, because every other clothes basket in the house is full of clean folded clothes...

The kitchen taken over by drying cloth diapers and random toys the kids drag in - including pot lids that they turn upside down and make into carousels. Every.Single.Time.

Friday, December 5, 2014

Large Catechism: Daily Reading Guide

Thursday, December 4, 2014

Large Catechism: The Sacrament of the Altar, Part 7

Read the Large Catechism with me.
Ten-minute studies on short readings from the Large Catechism.
Let's do this.
Click on the link below and read the short assigned reading. Then, if you have time, check out what I have to say about it. If not, no problem. Just soak up the goodness of the LC.

The Sacrament of the Altar, Part 7: Click here and read 75-87.

The basics:
- If we do not feel hunger or thirst for the Sacrament, we need to remember that we are made of flesh. St. Paul tells us in Galations 5 that the fruit of the flesh are these: adultery, fornication, uncleanness, lasciviousness, idolatry, witchcraft, hatred, variance, emulations, wrath, strife, seditions, heresies, envyings, murders, drunkenness, revelings, and such like. Run to the Sacrament because of your flesh!
- If you are unable to feel your own sinful flesh, at least believe the Scriptures; they will not lie to you, and they know your flesh better than you yourself.
- The less you feel your sins and infirmities, the more reason you have to go to the Sacrament to seek help and a remedy.
- If you are in the world, there will be sins and misery. Others will do things to give you cause for sin.
- The devil leads the heart astray from the Word of God, and blinds it, that we cannot feel our distress or come to Christ.
- If after seeing the impact of your flesh, the world, and the devil, you still do not hunger and thirst for the Sacrament, ask others to pray that the stone be removed from your heart. And come to the Sacrament more eagerly, as to fight off the flesh, the world, and the devil which are deceiving you.
- This exhortation of the faith is for the old and grown and the young, who ought to be brought up in the Christian doctrine and understanding. They need to practice this from their youth and accustom themselves to them.
- It is the father of the family's duty, by the command of God, to teach these things to his children.

My thoughts today:

That's all he wrote, my friends.
Ha!
Along with about 6 million other things - all about as awesome as the next.

Don't let this be the last Luther you read. Don't let this be the last foundational Lutheran document you read. Like I said when we started this journey 15 weeks ago, there is just so much really bad theology out there for you to read. You must fill yourself with good stuff.

It will make you change the way you respond to daily struggles.
It will make you capable of fighting off incorrect doctrine.
It will force you to see yourself as a poor, miserable sinner, in need of real forgiveness.
It will pour the Gospel out on you in ways you have never experienced.

The Lord, in His infinite wisdom, has given us the good stuff.
Soak it up, friends.

I'm out.

Large Catechism: The Sacrament of the Altar, Part 6

Read the Large Catechism with me.
Ten-minute studies on short readings from the Large Catechism.
Let's do this.
Click on the link below and read the short assigned reading. Then, if you have time, check out what I have to say about it. If not, no problem. Just soak up the goodness of the LC.

The Sacrament of the Altar, Part 6: Click here and read 64-74.

The basics:
- The promise attached to the Sacrament: "This is My body, given for you. This is My blood, shed for you, for the remission of sins."
- In this Sacrament He offers to us the entire treasure which He has brought for us from heaven.
- Luther compares this promise to what our Lord says in Matthew 11:28 - Come unto Me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.
- We must never flee from the Sacrament, but view it as a pure, wholesome, comforting remedy giving salvation and comfort, which will cure us and give us life in soul and body.
- Those who despise it and live in and unchristian manner receive it to their hurt and damnation, just as a sick person who eats and drinks what is forbidden him by the doctor.
- In the Sacrament we receive from the lips of Christ forgiveness of sin, which brings with it the grace of God and the Spirit with all His gifts, protection, shelter, and power against death and the devil and all misfortune.
- Christ Himself says: They that be whole, need not a physician, but they that be sick. Those who are weary and heavy-laden with their sins, with the fear of death, and temptations of the flesh and of the devil are those who need the great Physician and His body and blood.
- If we would wait until we are rid of our burdens to receive Communion, that we might come pure and holy, we must forever stay away. If we are pure and holy in ourselves, then we have no need of Christ.

My thoughts today:

"If, therefore, you are heavy-laden and feel your weakness, then go joyfully to this Sacrament and obtain refreshment, consolation, and strength."

"For where the soul has recovered, the body also is relieved."

"If you are pure and godly, you have no need of Me, and I, in turn, none of thee."

Pretty good stuff right there, folks.

This Sacrament is for us, friends...
The weary.
The unworthy.
The sinners.
The weak.
The heavy-laden.
The dying.

May we always know where refreshment, consolation, strength. forgiveness, life, and salvation are given.

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