by Jason WildeIf St. Francis of Assisi were alive today, where or who would he be? Maybe he would be the beggar on the curb, about whom we complain does not contribute to society. He could be the son who refuses to go to class at the private university where his parents pay tuition. He could be the lone voice at the capital campaign meeting who asks why they can't re-purpose existing rooms instead of building a new $10M church. He could be the lay missionary who is told that his mission is unsafe and impractical, and that only priests are missionaries. Maybe if Saint Paul were alive today he'd be walking through malls and placing anti-Amazon.com billboards proclaiming that the gods we look at through windows and screens are not the One True God, and to stop worshiping them. Saint Teresa of Calcutta could be working on the border, crossing every day into Juarez to serve refugees, and maybe Saint Karol Wojtyla (aka Saint John Paul II) would be a Honduran priest accompanying and serving the migrant caravan with regular roadside Masses. If Saint Patrick lived in our generation, maybe he would have been Nelson Mandela, a slave of his own country who worked at the highest levels to change it. St. Isidore could be the Mexican construction worker being told he couldn't take Good Friday off to go to Mass or he'd lose his job. Dorothy Day might even be searching him out so that she could tell his story in her blog and find support for an organized protest. St. Anthony could have been an Occupy Wall Street protester. St. Stephen could be like Fr. James Martin, continuing to be stoned every day for challenging God's people. Maybe the leper who came to Jesus is the gay man whom churches turn away and judge as sinful because of his outward sign, but Jesus is asking him to come and be welcomed in His Church. It's easy to read the Gospels and say "I'd be a disciple of Jesus, even to the point of death", but when He asks us to sell everything and give it to the poor, we would find a way to rewrite His Words, saying "He really didn't mean that literally." Many saints' lives are romanticized in our modern history, reduced to just a few clever quotes about serving one another or being faithful. But in their own times, most were seen as outcasts, ridiculed, and persecuted by their own families and Church. It's easy to say 'If we had lived in their days, we would not have joined in their persecution', but in reality that's probably not true as their lives were and still are so radical in a worldly view that few can truly accept or achieve what they lived for. But we must still challenge ourselves to look beyond the romantic biographical view of their lives to not only see the fruits, but the labors and hardships they endured. Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, you hypocrites. You build the tombs of the prophets and adorn the memorials of the righteous, and you say, ‘If we had lived in the days of our ancestors, we would not have joined them in shedding the prophets’ blood.’" (Matthew 23:29-30)
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by Jason WildeI just feel like we need to be here. The day had already felt like a series of busts as far as planning goes. We had been on the road for about 3 hours by this point, our first two stops fell through, and so we felt kind of down. Driving another half hour to our final planned stop for the night, the Wal-Mart sign just caught my eye as we drove into town, and so there we were. I honestly had no personal desire to be here. So when Jessica asked what we were doing here, I told her the truth - something told me we needed to be there. We walked in the entrance, each parent holding two kids' hands. I asked for the Holy Spirit to help, and we walked around the store, talking, praying, quietly singing on occasion, and simply said, just being a family. We stopped at a large bin of candy under a 98¢ sign and explained to Chi Yu that if he spent all his gift money on a box of candy, it wouldn't really fill him up, but that something else would, referencing the woman at the well. After we walked around the store and down each major aisle, we decided it was time to go and headed to the bathrooms. A man suddenly stopped us, looked at all 6 of us holding hands, and said You guys look like you have Jesus all around you. I love it! In the end, this is all that a missionary does. We bring Jesus to those we meet, and even if we don't directly encounter anyone, we hold Him in our hearts so closely that it looks like He is all around us, spreading joy in this world that can look so dark. Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of night In the third world, this means bringing gifts of food, water, clothing, or shelter, and it opens people's eyes to see the Jesus in us. But as our ministry has shifted to a first world, U.S. culture setting, we find ourselves trying to reach the spiritually poor, the lukewarm Christian, and those distracted and addicted to the things and shiny gods of the world. We can't simply bring them a bag of food and expect people to see Jesus. And, against popular belief, no one has ever found a relationship with Jesus by being argued with, judged, or yelled at. Instead, we have to be so filled with the love and joy of knowing our God that it simply radiates from us, like it did from Moses' face or from the disciples on Pentecost. It has to be something that is so compelling and so different from the 98¢ candy bins of this world that it catches someone's eye and makes them say "I don't know what it is, but I want to know how to get *that* for myself." The hard thing with this kind of Christian witness is that we probably will never see the conversion that takes place. We don't get to proudly claim that we converted XX people or saved YY souls (notice the sly sin involved here). We'll never again met this man, and in reality, I feel like he was there to encourage us, like the Spirit saying "Good job, faithful ones. Keep going!" Because the seeds that are planted with a good Christian witness of the Fruits of the Spirit can and will multiply and produce abundant fruit in time. Joy is prayer. Joy is strength. Joy is love. Joy is a net of love by which you can catch souls. You give the most when you give joy. God loves a cheerful giver. Never let anything so fill you with sorrow as to make you forget the joy of Christ risen." (Saint Teresa of Calcutta) By: Jessica WildeIn 1958, my Grandpa and Grandma Brammeier bought a little house on Pearl St. in Littleton, Colorado when my Dad was just a baby. I grew up hearing stories of all the love, laughter and hardships that filled this little house on Pearl. My grandparents were poor but rich in love. In the 6th grade, my Grandpa was a homeless orphan. As a teenager, he cared for the horses and spent his nights living in the horse stalls at Centennial Racetrack. He fell in love with my Grandma when she served him a soda at a soda fountain. They married shortly afterwards. They moved into the little house on Pearl after their third kid, my Dad, was born. My Grandpa worked several jobs at a time to provide for his family but still had time to go square dancing with Grandma and hunting with his kids. He died of a brain tumor when my Dad was only 19. While his death could have left a giant hole, it didn't. His spirit was always present next to Grandma. Their witness of undying love showed me that love is stronger than the grave. As a kid, I spent my summers driving up from Texas to visit Grandma. When we drove up to her house, her yard overflowed with plants of all kinds: roses, sunflowers, grapes, etc. Grandma was filled with the gift of hospitality. Every summer, Grandma hosted a cousins sleepover in her living room. We would eat 'girl cheese' and 'boy cheese' sandwiches. She would serve us buttermilk pancakes by the dozen for breakfast. She also hosted many family gatherings where we feasted on Grandma's signature green chili burritos or homemade lasagna. During the cold winter, we'd roll in the snow before jumping into the hot tub. Family was the most important thing to my Grandma. She took great care to get to know each grandkid personally. And she always made her house a sanctuary for her family in times of need. The year Jason and I were married, Grandma was diagnosed with lymphoma...the same cancer that I was diagnosed with fourteen years later. She underwent chemo which prolonged her life. A couple years later her great grandkids were born, and the hot tub was replaced by a ducky fountain. The family parties on Pearl St continued. Her cancer spread. She tried an alternative therapy and died of side effects when Grace was only 6 years old. Our whole family mourned the loss of our matriarch. When I found out that I had the same cancer as her, I was scared that my life would end like hers did and early like my Grandpa. When I walked out my front porch, miraculously there was a wild sunflower growing in our front yard. I had never seen sunflowers in Costa Rica until the day that I found out I had cancer. The next day we went on a home visit to my friend Yolanda's house. Her yard was full of sunflowers too! On the third day, our community leader Penny brought me back an image of Mary with sunflowers from her pilgrimage to Medjugorje. Since then, sunflowers have appeared when I need peace the most. With each sunflower, I feel like Grandma is with me, interceding for me in heaven to bring me peace. Since then, I have seen sunflowers on the way to CT scans and along our Busita drives. We’ve even dreamed of going back to Costa Rica to serve for a few months each year because of these sunflowers. But everytime we start planning anything, God shows us His plans which are always better than ours. Within a couple days of serving in Colorado, a generous benefactor offered to let us use Grandma's house as our Busita Mission Hub. We would just pay for the utilities when we were in town. It was no surprise when after expanding my grandparents driveway to fit the Busita it was parked amidst Grandma's sunflowers. As we prayed and discerned the Pearl house, God's plan made sense. God doesn’t ever ask us to give up something if he doesn’t have something even better planned for our lives. I thought of everything we’d left behind and sold to become missionaries. We had literally sold or donated everything we owned except for one closet in my parents house. And now, God had gifted us a beautiful fully furnished house in the center of the country for us to continue His ministry to serve the poor. This past week, we heard the parable of the merchant searching for fine pearls, and how “when he finds a pearl of great price, he goes and sells all that he has and buys it.” (Mat 13:45-46). After Mass, we met a local Catholic family at the park, and we told them our story and how we were planning on using Denver as our Busita mission base. They asked where we lived. We gave them the address on Pearl Street. He said “So you did find the ‘Pearl of Great Price’.” We sure have! Thank you Jesus for that pearl, for being our everything. Thank you Jesus for continually providing for our family. Thank you for sustaining us in missions. We love you Jesus! Jesus said to his disciples: |
On a MissionTwo passionate parents and their four children are excited to bring His Word to everyone in need while living a life of Gospel poverty as missionaries. They invite you to join them on a journey to encounter our global neighbors that Jesus commands us to love through works of charity and service. Archives
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