Scripture Scribbles: August 25, 2024

the Gospel

John 6:60-69

Many of Jesus' disciples who were listening said,
"This saying is hard; who can accept it?"
Since Jesus knew that his disciples were murmuring about this,
he said to them, "Does this shock you?
What if you were to see the Son of Man ascending
to where he was before?
It is the spirit that gives life,
while the flesh is of no avail.
The words I have spoken to you are Spirit and life.
But there are some of you who do not believe."
Jesus knew from the beginning the ones who would not believe
and the one who would betray him.
And he said,
"For this reason I have told you that no one can come to me
unless it is granted him by my Father."

As a result of this,
many of his disciples returned to their former way of life
and no longer accompanied him.
Jesus then said to the Twelve, "Do you also want to leave?"
Simon Peter answered him, "Master, to whom shall we go?
You have the words of eternal life.
We have come to believe
and are convinced that you are the Holy One of God."

the scribble

Today’s devotion is a reflection Lucia delivered during a Eucharistic Revival night held at her parish. We are sharing it today as we continue to reflect on the Eucharist and the Bread of Life discourse from John’s gospel in our readings today.

The only conscious thought that cut through the wild moments of my first daughter's birth was, "No wonder Jesus came to us this way."

This way covered in the water and blood of his precious mother's womb.

This way in the beauty and power of contractions that open, open, open.

This way in naked, wet wonder, pulsing umbilical cord and adorable vulnerability.

This way in the wild, fusing, physical love that entirely consumes.

"Do you see, now, Lucia?" he whispered to me as I gave my body to my little girl as real food and real drink. "Even more than this is how I love you."

Brothers and sisters, we are so stunningly beautifully created - not just souls, but bodies. And these bodies have eternal significance. Our physicality is not an accident or after thought.

I learned this in a wild and mystical way laboring and giving birth.

And it brought me to Jesus in the Eucharist.

What is on my heart to express is that coming to the Eucharist is the physical language of surrender.

We lost our second child in the early months of pregnancy. This child's birth was much different from his older sister's. The yawning pain of this labor carried grief forth from the deepest parts of my heart.

The only place I could think to go was to my knees here, to the real presence of the great healer, the promise keeper, the tender lover of my body and soul, to Jesus. I couldn't hold my own pain or grief. It was too much. Too wrecking. But he called me to the Eucharist and invited me give it all to him.

So that is what I do. When I can't articulate my grief or joy, my fear or my hope, when life is busy or peaceful, when things are good and bad, I put myself in the presence of his body, blood, soul and divinity.

To just pour it all out to him and to let him fill me with himself.

When I can't even articulate the words of a prayer. I can fall on his promises, on his very self, in the Eucharist. This is the physical language of surrender.

Come closer, with me.

Amen.

Today’s devotion was written by Lucia Parker