Jesus taught us, saying: “No one sews a piece of unshrunken cloth to an old cloak; otherwise, the patch pulls away from it, the new from the old, and the tear gets worse. And nobody puts new wine into old wineskins; otherwise, the wine will burst the skins, and the wine is lost and the skins too. No! New wine into fresh skins!” Mark 2:21–22
Marco wrote this morning or last night or something. It was a big day in Lugo, Italy yesterday, beyond the news of the earthquake an hour away. Everybody in every church and in every public place had to bring things for the 250 poor families of Lugo. The name of the event was "man does not live by bread alone,” and the purpose was to collect the sorts of food and stuff to give more dignity to the poor (tomato sauce, meat, yogurt, milk, and soap).
It turned out very nicely: everybody actively participated. But the main thing was that during the First Communion, kids had to write letters to Jesus.
The priest read one in front of the assembly:
Dear Jesus,
Today I have to write you on this totally white piece of paper, and I am definitively excited about meeting you today, but I feel that the white paper has to be me, so, dear Jesus feel free to write on me.
See you.
It was also a big day in Tucson, Arizona, beyond the somewhat tepid display of a solar eclipse. Our friend Frederic was baptized in the rather odd pool hidden under the back rows of folding chairs at the Vineyard. We all gathered around, with what I suspect were very broad smiles. And Fred stood up tall, calm and clear, with that wry understated vulnerability with which he has taken to speaking.
Marco wrote this morning or last night or something. It was a big day in Lugo, Italy yesterday, beyond the news of the earthquake an hour away. Everybody in every church and in every public place had to bring things for the 250 poor families of Lugo. The name of the event was "man does not live by bread alone,” and the purpose was to collect the sorts of food and stuff to give more dignity to the poor (tomato sauce, meat, yogurt, milk, and soap).
It turned out very nicely: everybody actively participated. But the main thing was that during the First Communion, kids had to write letters to Jesus.
The priest read one in front of the assembly:
Dear Jesus,
Today I have to write you on this totally white piece of paper, and I am definitively excited about meeting you today, but I feel that the white paper has to be me, so, dear Jesus feel free to write on me.
See you.
It was also a big day in Tucson, Arizona, beyond the somewhat tepid display of a solar eclipse. Our friend Frederic was baptized in the rather odd pool hidden under the back rows of folding chairs at the Vineyard. We all gathered around, with what I suspect were very broad smiles. And Fred stood up tall, calm and clear, with that wry understated vulnerability with which he has taken to speaking.
I feel happy, loved, and different. I noticed I can call myself a Christian now. God is always with us, with me. I have crossed over from death to life. I heard His words and have faith in His promises. He listens to each prayer and forgives us our sins. He doesn’t love me more or less because of my deeds. God is a giver and he is always accepting. I see things from a different point of view now and I am so thankful. I am eager to learn more, because God has become the priority in my life.
With eegees and no frisbee at Himmel Park afterwards.
No comments:
Post a Comment