Dear friends, thought I’d let you know what I had the privilege of doing this past weekend: my son, Fr. Peter, had invited me to give a talk for their Lenten Mission at St. Michael Parish in Findlay, Ohio, where he serves as Parochial Vicar. Here’s a link to the talk. The speaker was a bit long winded, but hope you enjoy.
Besides this you know what hour it is, how it is full time now for you to wake from sleep. For salvation is nearer to us now than when we first believed. (Romans 13:11)
Several years ago, I was on a long drive across Ohio in my pickup truck, listening to one of my favorite old radio programs on satellite radio, Lights Out. As usual, the program began with the announcer saying, very slowly, in a droll monotone, “It … is … later … than … you … think.” This is an edited version of chapter fifteen from my book, Life From Our Land. It seemed like such an obvious example of Red Zone Thinking, I felt it was worth sharing again.
This vaguely reminded me of a Scripture text. At a stop sign, with no traffic in any direction as far as the eye could see, I reached over to my Bible and, using the concordance, found the text in Romans:
“Besides this you know what hour it is, how it is full time now for you to wake from sleep. For salvation is nearer to us now than when we first believed” (13:11).
Translated into the slogan of that old radio show, this becomes:
Salvation … is … nearer … than … you … think!
If for each one of us salvation is nearer than we think — if, say, we were told we only had five years to live, or maybe only a year, or a month, a week, or what if “the Master came home tonight,” and we found ourselves standing before God — then what is it, when all of our lives are laid before us and before Him, that is most important? What is it that will make any eternal difference from this life into the next?
As I kept driving across Ohio in that pick-up truck, enjoying the beauty of the endless rolling farmland on both sides of the road, corn easily up to my truck’s roof, all expressions of the endless efforts of farmers, farmhands, and their families, I reflected on that verse from Romans, and an analogy came to mind, one I call the “Parable of the Game.”
Parable of the Game
Imagine that a highly respected, wealthy neighbor invited you to spend an evening at his mansion playing a board game, and you accepted. All evening, the game proceeds as usually played, and you and your opponents experience the usual wax and wane of material success. Drinks and snacks are passed and shared. At times, the game becomes quite heated as players bicker and barter for progress, position, and power. In the end, you are quite successful, but when your host declares the evening over, all the board money and game pieces are put away in the box, and you and the other players leave and return to your separate lives.
To what extent do the successes and failures that you attained in playing the game affect the rest of your life?
If we made millions of board game money and acquired acres of board game property, thereby gaining great board game influence, power, and prestige, or, on the other hand, if we lost everything and spent most of the game in Jail, what difference does any of this make to the real lives we lead once we’ve put all the game pieces back in the box, closed it up, and placed it back up on the shelf?
At first thought, “nothing.” Nothing we accomplish or accumulate in the playing of a board game — successes or failures, gains or losses — carries over into real life outside the box.
Yet, this is not exactly true. It seems to me that there are at least seven things that do carry over to real life:
1. How we treated those we played with. If we acted like jerks, cheated, lied, and generally, in our self-centeredness, stepped on everyone else in the game, we may find that none of them will want to speak to us again. They may never see us the same way, and the host will certainly not invite us back.
2. How our actions indirectly affected those we played with. There is something in gaming called a “zero sum gain”: if we are winning, someone else has to be losing; if we are gaining stuff, someone else is losing stuff. If in the playing, we were driven by the goal of accumulation and power, with no concern for how our actions were affecting the others around us, again, we may find that we have lost friends, gained a less-than-shining reputation, and nixed any future invitations to the Mansion.
3. How we ourselves changed from what we learned about ourselves in the playing. In the process, did we discover any flaws in our character, and then did we try to change? Were we any different when the game was over, or just the same?
4. How we treated the game area. Was there a ring of trash around our playing area? Potato chip crumbs, popcorn kernels, spilled beer, crumpled and torn board game money, chocolate on the tablecloth, mud on the carpet? If so, none of those friends, let alone the host, may ever invite us to their homes.
5. How we enjoyed the playing of the game. Were we always angry, complaining, bitter, discontent, depressed, or did we seek the joy in the very experience of having been invited and having the opportunity to enjoy the time with friends, even if we spent the entire game in Jail?
6. How others remember how we played the game. This is the issue of legacy. When the group gathers in the future, how do they remember how we played? Did we leave an example to follow, maybe a better way than has ever been played, or did we leave an example that everyone swore to avoid?
7. How grateful we were to the host. Did we storm out without a word to the host, or were we thankful for the privilege of the invitation?
A Parable of Life
This “Parable of the Game” is a parable of life. In the Parable, “playing the game” represents life in this world, and the “real life outside the game” represents our eventual life in the kingdom of God.
Once the game of this life is put away in the box, what remains and affects our life in the kingdom?
Our Lord proclaimed to His Apostles that, if we are in Him, we are no longer “of the world, even as [He was] not of the world” (Jn 17:14). Anyone in Christ has become a citizen of the kingdom, “with the saints and members of the household of God” (Eph 2:19), and is called by Christ to become detached from the things of this world. Thomas à Kempis wrote:
Here you have no abiding city, and wherever you may be, you are a stranger and pilgrim; you will never enjoy peace until you become inwardly united to Christ. What do you seek here, since this world is not your resting place? Your true home is in Heaven; therefore remember that all the things of this world are transitory. All things are passing, and yourself with them. See that you do not cling to them, lest you become entangled and perish with them.Thomas à Kempis, The Imitation of Christ, (New York: Penguin Books, 1982), p. 68.
This was built upon the words of our Lord: “He who loves his life loses it, and he who hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life” (Jn 12:25); “For what will it profit a man, if he gains the whole world and forfeits his life?” (Mt 16:26). These seem like harsh words, but they warn us not to become inordinately attached to this world.
If this is the danger, then it might seem to have been better if Jesus had immediately taken His followers home with Him. But that was not God’s plan. These new citizens of the kingdom had an important job to do: to be messengers in this world (Jn 17:11–18), or as St. Paul described, “ambassadors” (2 Cor 5:17–21), to help others, those lost in this world and attached to it, to discover their need to become citizens of the kingdom, through faith in Jesus Christ and Baptism into membership in His Mystical Body, the Church.
What does it mean practically, though, that we are children of God, citizens of the kingdom, and not citizens of this world, of this “box,” this “game”? Did Jesus leave us in this world to become successful and powerful? To accumulate riches and property, so that we can spend what time we’ve been given here in comfort, luxury, and easy living? To eat, drink, and be merry, because when life is done, we leave it all behind us anyway?
No, for as Our Lord said in His Sermon on the Mount:
For all the nations of the world seek these things; and your Father knows that you need them. Instead, seek his kingdom, and these things shall be yours as well. Fear not, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom. Sell your possessions, and give alms; provide yourselves with purses that do not grow old, with a treasure in the heavens that does not fail, where no thief approaches and no moth destroys. For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also. (Luke 12:30–34)
When our time in this world is over, when all we have accomplished and accumulated in this life is put away in “the box,” then what? St. Paul warned that, “we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, so that each one may receive good or evil, according to what he has done in the body” (2 Cor 5:10). The same warning was given in the Apocalypse:
And I saw the dead, great and small, standing before the throne, and books were opened. Also another book was opened, which is the book of life. And the dead were judged by what was written in the books, by what they had done. . . . And if any one’s name was not found written in the book of life, he was thrown into the lake of fire. (Revelation 20:12, 15 [emphasis added])
Our Lord explained this even more clearly in a parable:
“Take heed, and beware of all covetousness; for a man’s life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions.” And he told them a parable, saying, “The land of a rich man brought forth plentifully; and he thought to himself, ‘What shall I do, for I have nowhere to store my crops?’ And he said, ‘I will do this: I will pull down my barns, and build larger ones; and there I will store all my grain and my goods. And I will say to my soul, Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years; take your ease, eat, drink, be merry.’ But God said to him, ‘Fool! This night your soul is required of you; and the things you have prepared, whose will they be?’ So is he who lays up treasure for himself, and is not rich toward God. (Luke 12:15–21)
Parable of the Game Revisited
When all is done, and we stand before God, when the Book of Life is opened, when the fruit of our lives is examined, what will be important? I believe, given that “salvation … is … nearer … than … you … think,” that it is crucial that we consider the importance of those same seven things, but in a slightly different order:
1. How we loved God. This is summarized in what is called the Great Commandment: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength” (Mk 12:30). How grateful are we to the Host, to the Father through Jesus Christ by the power of the Holy Spirit, for all that He has given us, which means everything, every opportunity to know, love, and serve Him?
As an Evangelical minister, I would have expressed it this way: “Do you have a personal relationship with Jesus Christ?” Maybe surprisingly, this is precisely how Pope Emeritus Benedict put it: “And this, dear brothers and sisters, is true for every Christian: faith is first and foremost a personal, intimate encounter with Jesus; it is having an experience of his closeness, his friendship, his love. It is in this way that we learn to know him ever better, to love and follow him more and more. May this happen to each one of us!”Pope Benedict XVI, General Audience, Oct. 21, 2009; http://www.vatican.va/holy_father/benedict_xvi/audiences/2009/documents/hf_ben-xvi_aud_20091021_en.html.
As Pope Francis also said, “True wealth is love of God, shared with others … Who experiences this does not fear death, and receives peace of heart.”Pope Francis, Angelus message, Aug. 4, 2013; http://www.asianews.it/news-en/Pope-calls-on-young-people-to-counter-daily-vanity-of-consumer-society-28655.html.
This is a consistent theme throughout Scripture. For example, after St. James reminds us that as “the sun rises with its scorching heat and withers the grass; its flower falls, and its beauty perishes … [s]o will the rich man fade away in the midst of his pursuits,” he then affirms: “Blessed is the man who endures trial, for when he has stood the test he will receive the crown of life which God has promised to those who love him” (Jas 1:11–12).
A chapter later, St. James makes it even more clear, saying all of this in but one simple sentence: “Has not God chosen those who are poor in the world to be rich in faith and heirs of the kingdom which he has promised to those who love him?” (Jas 2:5).
2. How we loved. This is what is called the second Great Commandment: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself,” and our Lord added, “There is no other commandment greater than these” (Mk 12:31). When all the great industrialists, bankers, inventors, and investors die, what will ultimately matter will not be all the great things they made, accumulated, and accomplished, for all that will stay in the box. Rather, what will matter is how they loved their wives, children, families, friends, and neighbors, as well as the people they worked with. As a Kempis wrote: “Without love, the outward work is of no value; but whatever is done out of love, be it never so little, is wholly fruitful. For God regards the greatness of the love that prompts a man, rather than the greatness of his achievement.”Kempis, Imitation of Christ, p. 43.
This, too, will be the measure of our lives. As St. Francis of Assisi once said, “Men lose all the material things they leave behind them in this world, but they carry with them the reward of their charity and the alms they give. For these they will receive from the Lord the reward and recompense they deserve.”St. Francis, from a letter written to all the faithful, in Opuscula, edit. (Quaracchi, 1949), pp. 87–94, quoted in The Liturgy of the Hours, vol. 4, Office of Readings for Oct. 4, Feast of St. … Continue reading
3. How we indirectly loved. How does the way we spend our money, invest our time, and apply our talents affect other people in this world, people we don’t even know? If our ambition for power, position, prosperity, and wealth caused us to step on even one person, I believe that when the books are opened in the end, and everything we have done in this life is examined, that person will be there in the judgment, pointing, as Nathan did to David, “You are the man!” (2 Sam 12:7).
How many people around the world, whom we will never know personally, have been affected by how we have spent our money, by what we have said, or by what we have done in this life? Or maybe what we haven’t done?
4. How we grew in grace. What have we learned about ourselves, if we were listening, and how have we responded? Changed? Or has our life been one continual disclaimer that we are without faults (cf. 1 Jn 1:8) or that it was “always someone else’s fault”? As St. Paul warned, “Put to death what is earthly in you …” (Col 3:5f.).
5. How we cared for what we were given. When St. James warned that “friendship with the world is enmity with God” (Jas 4:4), he did not mean a Gnostic rejection of this world, but a rejection of sinful attachments. This world was created good, and our temporary life in this world is a good that we have received as a gift from above (Jas 1:17). Everything we have been given is good, including technology. Mankind has created nothing; we have only discovered how to use the gifts, treasures, knowledge, techniques, and abilities placed in creation for our use. The question will be, how did we use, take care of, share, invest, and improve what we were given? When we take care of creation, we live out the divine life we have been given, and share with God in His creative activity in this world.
Pope Francis said in one of his general audiences, “Cultivating and caring for creation is an instruction of God which he gave not only at the beginning of history, but has also given to each one of us; it is part of his plan; it means making the world increase with responsibility, transforming it so that it may be a garden, an inhabitable place for us all.”Pope Francis, General Audience, June 5, 2013; http://www.vatican.va/holy_father/francesco/audiences/2013/documents/papa-francesco_20130605_udienza-generale_en.html.
In the parable of the talents, the departing King gave his servants “talents” (or maybe more accurately “resources”) according to their abilities. At the end of the parable is a strange statement: “For to every one who has will more be given, and he will have abundance; but from him who has not, even what he has will be taken away” (Mt 25:29). Does this seem fair? To the wealthy and gifted more is given, but to the poor and less gifted even what they have is taken away?
There are various explanations, but I prefer this: God has given to us everything we have, but everything also brings with it more responsibilities, often far more than we ever expect! If we want a lot of stuff, then we are free to go for it, but are we able and ready to accept and manage all the responsibilities that come with ownership? Buy a house, buy a hobby! Buy a farm, and you’ll never have a moment when your work is done!! Want to be the President of the United States, or the richest man in world—go for it! With either of these, we can accomplish much good, but can we handle it? Can we handle the temptations, the attachments, the responsibilities, the pressures? St Francis, once a rich young man, recognized that he could not handle the responsibilities of anything, so he gave it all away! The truth is that even the little we have, in the end, will be taken away and left in the box.
6. How content we were. Jesus told His followers to “abide in my love … [so] that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be full” (Jn 15:10, 11). When our lives are over and we look back, will we see that our lives were full of the joy of Christ, or of anxiety, bitterness, and regret? Did we seek to imitate St. Paul who, though in chains, claimed, “Not that I complain of want; for I have learned, in whatever state I am, to be content” (Phil 4:11)?
7. How our lives inspired others. Imagine having your name for all time in the New Testament as one who was so “in love with this present world” that you deserted St. Paul (cf. 2 Tim 4:10). When our children, grandchildren, and those who knew our deeds and words remember us, will how we lived these seven things be a legacy worth imitating?
But Isn’t This Just Work’s Righteousness?
As my truck left the sparse farmlands and entered the busy suburbs of my destination, several countering questions came to mind:
Some might complain, “But isn’t this just works righteousness? And besides, what does it truly mean to love?” To avoid confusion and disagreement is the reason why, when good players gather to play a board game, they don’t make up the rules as they go along, but look first at the instructions inside the lid of the box. And that is why Christ gave us, not only His Word, the Scriptures, or Sacred Tradition, but His Church as “the pillar and bulwark of the truth” (1 Tim 3:15), guided by the Holy Spirit (Jn 16:13).
As to the relationship between works and righteousness, faith and love, the “instructions inside the lid of the box” state that “faith apart from works is dead” (Jam 2:26), or as a joint Lutheran-Catholic statement put it: “We confess together that good works — a Christian life lived in faith, hope and love — follow justification and are its fruits. When the justified live in Christ and act in the grace they receive, they bring forth, in biblical terms, good fruit. . . . Thus both Jesus and the apostolic Scriptures admonish Christians to bring forth the works of love.”Lutheran World Federation and the Catholic Church’s Pontifical Council for Promoting Christian Unity, Joint Declaration on the Doctrine of Justification (1999), no. 37.
This is quite profound and important. Certainly, throughout the history of Christendom, millions of sincere believers, regardless of their particular theologies, have been moved by the words of Scripture and the model of Christ to live out their faith in love. But the danger of some of these theologies has been to draw believers off into imbalanced and incomplete priorities: for example, an over-emphasis upon faith alone can detract from the necessity of holiness, sacrifice, suffering, and selfless love.
On the other hand, the Catechism of the Catholic Church warns that Catholics safely home in the Church can still miss the mark: “Even though incorporated into the Church, one who does not however persevere in charity is not saved” (no. 837). Essentially and succinctly, as put by Thomas Howard:
There is only one agenda for all of us Christians, namely, our growing into conformity to Jesus Christ, that is to say, our being made perfect in Charity. We must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, and at that tribunal there is not one test for Protestants and another for Catholics. All of us have arrived there by grace, and all of us are “washed in the blood of the Lamb”, and all of us are to have been configured to Christ.Thomas Howard, On Being Catholic (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 1997), p.147.
To a very significant extent, all sin is a failure to love; all divisions and schisms are a failure of charity; and all abuse and misuse of God’s Creation is a failure to love Him.
From the earliest days of the Church, men and women have tried to augment, qualify, simplify, and, if nothing else works, replace the central message of the Gospel. In response to Galatian believers, who had been lured away by just such a “different gospel,” St. Paul wrote: “O foolish Galatians! Who has bewitched you, before whose eyes Jesus Christ was publicly portrayed as crucified?” (Gal 3:1) Since it is highly unlikely that any of the Galatians had been present in Jerusalem at the crucifixion, then what was St. Paul referring to except that which has been displayed in the front of Church sanctuaries throughout Christendom ever since: the purest example of charity “publicly portrayed” — a crucifix.
When Christians denigrate the crucifix because they think it denies the resurrection of Christ, they sadly are missing the point, for a crucifix would be meaningless except for the presumption of the resurrection. And when modern Catholics replace the suffering Christ with a resurrected Christ, they, too, can be missing the point. Certainly St. Paul believed in the resurrection when he said, “I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified” (1 Cor 2:2).
The reason, however, for the constant insistence of the public portrayal of the crucifix is not just to remind us of the self-emulation of Christ on the cross, but to confront us with the true meaning of love. Faith in Christ means looking upon the “publicly portrayed” image of His sacrifice, and being willing to do the same for Him. This is precisely how Jesus defined what it means to be His follower: “This is my commandment, that you love one another, as I have loved you. Greater love has no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends” (Jn 15:12–13). Elsewhere in Galatians, St. Paul would confess what this radical love means for him:
I have been crucified with Christ; it is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me; and the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me. … But far be it from me to glory except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world. (2:20; 6:14)
Faith in Christ means loving in the same way He loved us. That hits particularly at home, for this is how St. Paul defined how I, as a husband and father, am to love: “Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her” (Eph 5:25).
It Is Full Time To Wake Up
As I pulled into my destination, I reconsidered that opening verse from Romans: “Besides this you know what hour it is, how it is full time now for you to wake from sleep. For salvation is nearer to us now than when we first believed” (Rom 13:11).
And then I thought of another verse that reminded me that it was high time to quit procrastinating and start acting!
Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God. (Hebrews 12:1–2)
These “witnesses” are not just the heavenly hosts, angels, martyrs, and saints, who are watching and cheering us on, but our spouses, children, grandchildren, friends, neighbors, co-workers, even the viewers, hearers, and readers of our high-sounding words(!) — all of these are waiting to see whether we live out faithfully all of the things we ought, or as St. John said in those letters to those churches, whether we “conquer.”
May God grant us the grace and mercy to (1) know, love, and serve Him, (2) love one another, (3) consider how our actions, our lifestyles affect people we will never know, (4) grow in holiness, (5) respect responsibly the things we have been given, (6) be content with, yet detached from, a minimum of things, and (7) leave behind a model for our children and grandchildren to follow, in Christ, amen.
|↑1||This is an edited version of chapter fifteen from my book, Life From Our Land. It seemed like such an obvious example of Red Zone Thinking, I felt it was worth sharing again.|
|↑2||Thomas à Kempis, The Imitation of Christ, (New York: Penguin Books, 1982), p. 68.|
|↑3||Pope Benedict XVI, General Audience, Oct. 21, 2009; http://www.vatican.va/holy_father/benedict_xvi/audiences/2009/documents/hf_ben-xvi_aud_20091021_en.html.|
|↑4||Pope Francis, Angelus message, Aug. 4, 2013; http://www.asianews.it/news-en/Pope-calls-on-young-people-to-counter-daily-vanity-of-consumer-society-28655.html.|
|↑5||Kempis, Imitation of Christ, p. 43.|
|↑6||St. Francis, from a letter written to all the faithful, in Opuscula, edit. (Quaracchi, 1949), pp. 87–94, quoted in The Liturgy of the Hours, vol. 4, Office of Readings for Oct. 4, Feast of St. Francis of Assisi.|
|↑7||Pope Francis, General Audience, June 5, 2013; http://www.vatican.va/holy_father/francesco/audiences/2013/documents/papa-francesco_20130605_udienza-generale_en.html.|
|↑8||Lutheran World Federation and the Catholic Church’s Pontifical Council for Promoting Christian Unity, Joint Declaration on the Doctrine of Justification (1999), no. 37.|
|↑9||Thomas Howard, On Being Catholic (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 1997), p.147.|
A friend of mine, an aging wanted-to-be farmer, recently shared with me a piece of his own Red Zone Thinking. We were relaxing in front of the fire in our hearthstone wood stove, and this is the gist of what he shared.
“You know, there was a time when my contentment was being shattered by bitterness. From scratch I had developed our farm for the future of our family. It was for our children to experience a better life, and hopefully for their children, too, for all of us to work together on this property, being good stewards of God’s land, out of the clutches of this crazy materialistic world! But then all my children moved away to live in the city, of all places. Now my wife and I are retired empty-nesters out here on this acreage, but I can’t do the farm work by myself anymore because of my health. So the farm is going to sit idle. After my children graduated college and got married, rather than coming back here to live near us on a part of this land, to eventually make the farm their own, they all moved away, and too far away to be of any help. There have been days that I felt like it was all just a waste.”
He then paused for a sip of coffee, and after a long quiet stare into the fire, he continued:
“But then I remembered. I had done the very same thing to my parents, especially to my father. After college, I got married, and instead of moving up closer to them, my wife and I moved farther away. And I ended up doing something he never dreamed I’d do—he never wanted me to do—we built a house on a portion of my wife’s family rural property, and of all things we tried to develop it into a self-sustaining farm! Like my father, I had no experience in farming whatsoever, but we gave it a shot, in many ways so that our boys could experience the rural farm life. But now I look back and think I understand the sadness I often saw in my father’s eyes whenever we and our kids would make the occasional trips up to visit with them. I guess I’ve learned how, in an ironic sense of God’s humor, I’ve been “hoisted with my own petard.”
“Our decisions were never a rejection of my parents or even their wisdom. I just thought we were trying to follow God’s will, and busy trying to do the best we could with everything we had on our plates. We were given an opportunity to live on this rural land, and we thought it would be a great place to raise our kids, and it was.”
He took another long sip and meditative gaze into the fire.
“Contentment for me involves apologizing in prayer to my departed parents for any heartaches my obtuseness may have caused them, and it likewise involves letting go of any bitterness the devil might tempt me to feel toward my children. We were blessed to have lived together on this land, and I pray that they learn to be content where they believe—where I believe—God has now called them to live. And I pray God continues to give my wife and I the grace to learn to grow in contentment on this fine rural land that He has given us for our retirement.”
In my own Red Zone thinking, as I consider what Marilyn and I need to do out here as empty-nesters on our forty-acres in the years ahead, there are some things I have come to learn. Just because we live out here on this rural property, or because we established this farm for our boys and brought them up on this land, does not therefore automatically mean that God has called any of us to be farmers. There are myriads of publications and web-blogs exhorting people to return to the farm, to save our country by re-establishing traditional American small farm culture, and to avoid the coming Tribulation by becoming self-sufficient and off-the-grid—and I can’t deny that there were times I at least tried to preach and live this separatist agrarian gospel, and I whole-heartedly agree there is great value and hope in it.
But now I see that we must not douse ourselves or especially our children with false guilt over their supposed responsibility to take over this farm [or might I add, any family business]. We may have done all this for them, which is truly generous and charitable and humble, but we need to remember that they need to be free to discern whether or not this is what God is calling them to do. It may be that God called us to live and to bring our sons up on the farm, in a rural enclave where they could receive the blessings of a more traditional, rural education and culture less tainted by the craziness, wokeness, and apostasy of the surrounding culture—but not necessarily so they themselves would remain in this rural safe stronghold, but so that they would be better prepared to go forth and live and preach the gospel in the midst of a lost world.
I see that this has happened with our three sons. Actually in spite of my many, many short-comings, and my wife’s and my less-than-perfect attempts at parenting, all three of our sons look back and (at least) say they loved growing up out here on our rural “cottage farm,” which, though together we tried to develop it into a self-sustaining, even profitable farm, barely qualifies even as a “hobby farm”. But it was increasingly obvious all along that continuing on the farm, even taking it over after I had entered into the Red Zone, was not where their hearts were leading them.
Our oldest son, JonMarc, was eleven when we moved from the city to our new house out in the country. At first, we weren’t thinking of transforming our retreat in the woods away from the city into a working farm. But very quickly we decided that this was why God had called us out here. From the beginning, JonMarc was involved with every improvement and edition to our “farmness”. He helped me build our large chicken condominium (with all hand, non-electric tools, mind you); he learned with me how to raise chickens, sheep, dairy cows, and pigs; and he was my main partner in sharing the responsibilities of daily milking and most everything else on the farm.
But he also had many other interests. He and his brothers were homeschooled, which gave them plenty of time to absorb and enjoy the gift of this rural respite. JonMarc, though, was also hungry for outside activities, at our parish, with other Christian farming families, in athletics at the local community and high school, and especially in community theatre.
It never crossed my mind to press him into taking over the farm because I never sensed this was what he was called to do. He first attended the Pontifical College Josephinum to discern priesthood, but after just one semester he discerned this was not where God was calling him. He knew he was called to be a father. He transferred to several other schools to major in philosophy, and while he was at a secular state university, he became active in the on-campus Catholic outreach. There he met his future wife, Teresa, who was serving as a missionary with that outreach. Eventually they got married, are about to give us our sixth grandchild, and both remain active in serving our Lord and His Church. JonMarc runs the CHNetwork for me as its Executive Director and both he and Teresa are very involved in diocesan, parish, and local ministries. They also use the media for outreach to other couples and are becoming active in leading Catholic pilgrimages.
When you bring up a son in the ways of the Lord, you eventually have to let him go to be what the Lord wants him to be.
Our second son, Peter, also says he loved growing up on the farm. He was seven when we moved here. He was always there beside his older brother trying to give a hand on everything we did. He was active in 4H raising bees, he helped with all the other farm work, and I especially remember him helping me deliver and care for Suffolk lambs and Jersey calves. And he too was involved in all the same off-farm activities as his older brother—church, sports, and theatre—and he too did not give obvious signs that God was calling him to remain on this farm.
He attended a Catholic university where he came of age and matured greatly. Like his brother, he majored in philosophy, and was particularly active in music. Upon graduation, he became the music director at the very Newman Center where JonMarc and Teresa had met and used to serve. But then he surprised us all with the news that he believed God was calling him to become a priest. The diocese of Toledo affirmed this call, sent him to six years of study at Saint Meinrad Benedictine Seminary, and now he is an ordained Catholic priest, serving the Lord as a parochial vicar.
When you bring up a son in the ways of the Lord, you eventually have to let him go to be what the Lord wants him to be.
Our youngest son, Richard, was a different challenge than our other two boys. He was three when we moved to the farm, and he landed running! He was always there beside his brothers trying to help, but more often than not, he saw everything we did as an invitation for fun. While his brothers and I milked the cow, he was riding one of the sheep around the crowded barn. When his mother went out to gather eggs, he was there with a switch to chaise them.
But in time we discovered that Richard had unexpected disabilities that made it obvious that farm work was not where he was being called. And besides, work today on a small farm requires a person to be a bit of an introvert, for the work demands that you spend most of your time alone out somewhere on the back acres fixing fallen fences, clearing clogged culverts, or chasing chambering chickens. Richard was always an extrovert and needed people. He had followed his brothers in all their outside activists, especially in community theatre. But in the end, his disabilities have made finding his vocation difficult. Probably the biggest blessing in his life has been meeting his future wife, Katie. They are now recently married and both trying to discern their place in life, and though they may move into my wife’s mother’s vacant house near us here on this property, it is still unlikely that his particular abilities will allow him to consider “taking over the farm” after I truly enter the Red Zone and “retire.”
When you bring up a son in the ways of the Lord, you eventually have to let him go to be what the Lord wants him to be.
Now Marilyn and I are empty nesters out here on our forty-acres. As I mentioned in an earlier post, we’ve freed ourselves, at least for the winter, from responsibilities for any livestock—and during the recent frigid snow and ice storm, I’m SO glad I didn’t have to wander out precariously onto our hills to drag hay to starving cattle or to punch holes into frozen stock tanks! Now, our main responsibilities on this cottage farm involve stoking our wood stove, herding seven chickens and seven cats, while planning for whatever we might be able to handle in the coming year. We might bring in some feeder calves, we might add two piglets, we might add some ducks, we might erect a make-shift greenhouse from a pile of old sliding doors, we might cut lots of paths through our woods for the grandkids to enjoy, we might add a pond, and we might even expand our garden. Or, we might do nothing at all.
Truth is, contrary to what the books and web-blogs have tried to convince me, I’ve never really felt God has called me to focus all my gifts on this rural property as a farmer. Ever since I was twelve, I’ve either been a student or working some job. For the past 45-years I’ve been involved in some kind of Christian ministry. The past 29+ years I’ve led the Coming Home Network, and for nearly 25-years I’ve hosted the Journey Home television and radio program on EWTN. This has involved leadership, writing, speaking, traveling, and even spending some long hours with a few bishops and priests! And all this while my family and I were trying to make a go at it out here on these forty acres—well, actually far more often with Marilyn trying to herd the boys to hold down the fort and keep up with my usually failing farming experiments.
The truth is I consider it one of the greatest gifts God has given me to have the privilege to live out here on this rural acreage in the Appalachian foothills of Southeastern Ohio. Every day I’m grateful for this, especially as I watch the free-roaming birds, deer, rabbits, squirrels, and other native residents who have allowed us to share some space on this their property.
But especially now, as I’m more cognizant of entering the Red Zone, I think back on all we’ve done here, together, and am now finally letting myself be free of the false guilt I’ve put upon myself to be something I really have never been—a farmer. I have grown to have the highest respect for farmers. As Thomas Aquinas himself admitted, they are truly gifted men and women, at the top of human society, and worthy of our praise! And frankly, I am not worthy to be called one. I’ve tried, and by God’s grace and mercy, we’ve actually accomplished quite a bit on this land—though I’d never for a second think I ought to start a Youtube Channel telling anyone how they ought to farm! Ridiculous!
Some of you might have guessed, but I lied to you earlier. I have no old farmer friend who was ranting in front of my hearth fire—that was me. I had indeed once succumb to the temptation of bitterness, but by His mercy, I have come to appreciate what I have shared with you in this post. I’ve grown to see that God had called Marilyn and I out to this rural property not to become farmers, but for the opportunity to discover, through farming, together with our sons, what the gospel of Jesus Christ is really all about. It’s certainly about faith, the sacraments, the Church, and all that, of course. But it’s mostly about love and humility, forgiveness and humility, detachment, simplicity, sacrifice, and humility, courage and others-centeredness, and did I mention, humility?
When you discover by grace the Lord Jesus and try to live according to His ways, you eventually have to let go so that you can become what the Lord wants you to be.
One of the most crucially important, yet dagnabedly elusive, aspects of Red Zone Thinking is CONTENTMENT. When we’ve arrived in the “red zone” of life, or are planning ahead for it, we want to be content. We don’t want to spend our time looking back with regret, or being anxious about tomorrow, wringing our hands over all the unknowns that keep poking their ugly heads up into our path. We want to wake up in the morning, and, at least after our first or second cup of coffee, look forward with optimistic joy to the day ahead!
Which is why I believe St. Paul wrote most of his Epistles through the lens of Red Zone Thinking. He may not have used this terminology, but constantly in all his letters he exhorts his readers to follow our Savior as if they might meet Him soon. For example, these words to the Christians in Rome have the clear ring of Red Zone Thinking:
“Besides this you know what hour it is, how it is full time now for you to wake from sleep. For salvation is nearer to us now than when we first believed; the night is far gone, the day is at hand. Let us then cast off the works of darkness and put on the armor of light; let us conduct ourselves becomingly as in the day, not in reveling and drunkenness, not in debauchery and licentiousness, not in quarreling and jealousy” (Romans 13:11-13, emphasis mine).
Red Zone Thinking means not letting these words of Scripture pass by without pausing and thinking, “Wait—he’s talking to me! Right now, not some day way in the future. How should my life, starting now, by grace, be different, before it’s too late?”
And he also spoke of contentment. When Paul wrote his letter to his Christian friends at Philippi, he happened to be imprisoned and in chains for the preaching of the Gospel. After many positive words of encouragement, he wrote:
“Not that I complain of want; for I have learned, in whatever state I am, to be content. I know how to be abased, and I know how to abound; in any and all circumstances I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and want. I can do all things in him who strengthens me” (Philippians 4:11-13, emphasis mine).
What seems important to point out is that Paul doesn’t merely say, “I am content in whatever state I am”, but rather, “I have learned to be content.”
In other places, he commands his readers to choose to be content:
“…if we have food and clothing, with these we shall be content” (1 Tim. 6:8)
“Keep your life free from the love of money, and be content with what you have” (Heb. 13:5a).
And in another place, Paul emphasizes that this contentment, which he exhorts others to choose, is something he himself has chosen:
“For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities; for when I am weak, then I am strong” (2 Cor. 12:10).
Contentment is an attitude we choose, but in his Red Zone Thinking, Paul recognizes that it is a virtue he had to learn, by grace, as his heart learned to see the struggles of his life through the lens of the Cross of Christ, for he clearly admits, “I can do all things in him who strengthens me.” He even learned to accept the sufferings he received from living the Gospel as the means by which he could “complete what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions for the sake of his body, that is, the Church” (Col. 1:24).
And it seems to me that learning contentment in the Red Zone requires reflecting back upon our mistakes. I can’t help but picture Paul, as he sat in his cell, encumbered by chains writing this letter, pausing to remember an event that had happened years before when he first brought the gospel to these very Philippian Christians—an event which, with hindsight, he might have handled differently. His companion Luke had recorded it in his second letter, so he can’t escape public knowledge of his brash act of discontentment.
Paul and Silas, and apparently their new companion Luke, were on their second missionary journey, immediately after the Jerusalem council. They had arrived in Philippi, and on the sabbath, as Paul and His companions were heading toward the synagogue, this is what happened:
“As we were going to the place of prayer, we were met by a slave girl who had a spirit of divination and brought her owners much gain by soothsaying. She followed Paul and us, crying, ‘These men are servants of the Most High God, who proclaim to you the way of salvation.’ And this she did for many days.
“But Paul was annoyed, and turned and said to the spirit, ‘I charge you in the name of Jesus Christ to come out of her.’ And it came out that very hour.
“But when her owners saw that their hope of gain was gone, they seized Paul and Silas and dragged them into the market place before the rulers; and when they had brought them to the magistrates they said, ‘These men are Jews and they are disturbing our city. They advocate customs which it is not lawful for us Romans to accept or practice.’
“The crowd joined in attacking them; and the magistrates tore the garments off them and gave orders to beat them with rods. And when they had inflicted many blows upon them, they threw them into prison, charging the jailer to keep them safely. Having received this charge, he put them into the inner prison and fastened their feet in the stocks” (Acts 16:16-24).
All because Paul got annoyed. I can just see Silas, as they sat side-by-side in the stocks, saying, “Well, here’s another nice mess you’ve gotten me into.” With hindsight, Paul might have wondered if there wasn’t maybe a better way he could have handled that. I mean, as crazy as she might have been, still, she was accurately promoting their cause: “These men are servants of the Most High God, who proclaim to you the way of salvation.” And, yes, freeing the girl of that demon was a praiseworthy thing, but maybe with a little more patience (i.e., counting to ten first), he might have avoided their being seized, dragged, convicted, attacked, stripped, beat with rods, thrown into prison, and stuck in the stocks.
Of course, Paul could claim that the “rest of the story” justifies his actions and their sufferings! For, as St. Luke continues, the benefits that God brought out of this “nice mess” began through their decision to choose contentment:
“But about midnight Paul and Silas were praying and singing hymns to God, and the prisoners were listening to them, and suddenly there was a great earthquake, so that the foundations of the prison were shaken; and immediately all the doors were opened and every one’s fetters were unfastened. When the jailer woke and saw that the prison doors were open, he drew his sword and was about to kill himself, supposing that the prisoners had escaped.
“But Paul cried with a loud voice, ‘Do not harm yourself, for we are all here.’
“And [the jailer] called for lights and rushed in, and trembling with fear he fell down before Paul and Silas, and brought them out and said, ‘Men, what must I do to be saved?’
“And they said, ‘Believe in the Lord Jesus, and you will be saved, you and your household.’ And they spoke the word of the Lord to him and to all that were in his house.
“And [the jailer] took them the same hour of the night, and washed their wounds, and he was baptized at once, with all his family. Then he brought them up into his house, and set food before them; and he rejoiced with all his household that he had believed in God” (Acts 16:25-34).
As Paul reminisced, he may have seen how giving into discontentment had gotten them into a “nice mess”, whereas an act of grateful, worshipful contentment had opened the floodgates of God’s grace and mercy.
Seems to me that Red Zone Thinking involves learning to be content by looking back and learning from our failures as well as our victories in Christ.
St. Paul admitted that contentment is something we learn, but this learning requires that we choose to move forward toward contentment even when we don’t feel it—for the feeling of contentment is something we leave to God. Earlier in Philippians 4:6-8, Paul describes a process that maybe he had found helpful for choosing, growing, and learning contentment:
(1) “Have no anxiety about anything” [The first step involves recognizing, identifying, and owning any feelings of resentment we might have harbored about anything! This must be rejected or it will grow into bitterness and discontent];
(2) “but in everything by prayer and supplication … let your requests be made known to God” [The most important response to any anxiety is turning to our loving God, asking for His forgiveness, wisdom, grace, and mercy];
(3) “… with thanksgiving” [Choosing to be thankful is not just the most important attitude for growing in contentment, but for growing in every aspect of the Christian life—we must remember and recognize that every single thing we have in our lives come from Him and we must receive it all with gratitude!];
(4) “And the peace of God, which passes all understanding, will keep your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus” [Here is the feeling of contentment that is not something we can make happen but is rather a gift from Him that can help keep us in Him]; and
(5) “Finally, brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is gracious, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.” [We need to replace anything in our minds that might draw us towards bitterness and discontentment with things that draw us closer to God.]
As I think about this, with beverage of choice in hand before the warmth of our hearth, I need to end this post with the same disclaimer that St. Paul himself used earlier in his letter:
“Not that I have already obtained this or am already perfect; but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own” (Phil. 3:12).
Lord, help us all to learn to grow in contentment.
Let me begin by downplaying a bit my emphasis on Red Zone Thinking. Sometimes when people get too self-congratulatory about the creativity of a metaphor, they forget the point of it altogether. And the point here is not about forcing this football metaphor around everything, or about trying to force everything into it; in fact, it’s not about the football “red zone” at all. It’s about a radical change of thinking, that can’t be forced upon anyone, or even upon ourselves. It’s actually a bit indescribable, unless we’ve experienced it ourselves. We can talk about it—we can stress with wild hand gesticulations the absolute necessity of it—but unless grace awakens our mind and heart to it, it will remain elusive. I suppose this is why, as important as it is, far too many of us never take it seriously enough to re-examine and re-shape our lives as we should.
Let me also say here that once one has received this gift of grace—of having one’s heart and mind opened to the urgent seriousness of abiding in Christ—this does not guarantee that one will actually change for the better. Over the years, having interviewed hundreds of converts to Christ and His Church, I’ve also heard hundreds talk about having experienced a grace-filled change of heart, an awakening to Christ and His mercy, only to, after the passing of weeks, months, or years, drift back and away from Christ, maybe even further away than before.
This is why it’s important to recognize that one of the most mysterious aspects of God’s work in our lives is that, with all that He might do by grace to awaken us, to bless us, to open or close doors, to rescue us from the deep holes we’ve dug for ourselves, or to slam us up the side of the head with a 2×4 to get our attention, still, He always, to the very end of our lives, leaves us free to respond. He will never force anyone to turn from sin and self-centeredness, to follow Him.
I can hear someone complaining, “But that’s not fair! Why does God give this grace to some and not to others? How can anyone be held culpable if they weren’t given the grace?”
Jesus said, “Ask and you will receive.” Truth is, if you are asking for the assistance of God’s grace, this is proof you’ve already received it. You wouldn’t want God if His grace hadn’t already drawn you to Him. And since none of us has the ability to know what any other person is thinking, we can never know to what extent another person has or has not received grace, and, therefore, whether or not he has or has not rejected it. This is not our worry—our job is only to show and tell, and to love.
But I’ve rambled. Red Zone Thinking refers to an awakening we need to experience to start taking the Word of Christ more seriously (dare I add, before it’s too late)—it’s essentially that spiritual “round tuit” for which so many of us have been waiting.
For example, I had a RZT moment this past Sunday. The second reading in Mass was St. Paul’s very familiar “love chapter”, 1 Corinthians 13. We’ve all heard this a bazillion times, not just several times a year from the pulpit but at nearly every wedding. As a result, most of us only hear these words as descriptive of what love ought to be within marriage, and rightly so, but this was not the context within which St. Paul was speaking. He was writing to a Church that was broken and divided over scandals, petty jealousies, rivalries, and other shameful ways that the leaders and people had failed to freely followed the gift of grace. In this passage about love, St. Paul was cutting through all the clutter and drawing them back to the one primary thing for which they will one day be held culpable before God.
They had been bickering and one-upping each other over who had the greatest gifts, so Paul said, “You earnestly desire the ‘higher gifts’, but I’ll show you a still more excellent way” (1 Cor 12:31, my translation).
He then boldly chastised them for their blindness: It does not matter if a leader is a pillar of prayerful devotion, or wise foresight, or bold faith, or selfless philanthropy, or even selfless courage, if they have not love, it’s all nothing—they are nothing, and all their efforts and showing off gain nothing.(cf, 13:1-3)
So what is love? We’ve all heard rightly that the love spoken of here is not something driven by emotion or passion, as our digital world proclaims 24/7, but a love that we freely and willfully choose, regardless of what our emotions are saying. It’s something we do, not something we feel. It’s actually an active response to something we’ve already been given: God’s merciful, undeserved love—”We love because He first loved us” (1 Jn. 4:19).
So the lens of RZT demands us to hear what St. Paul is saying, maybe in a way we’ve never heard before—when we really weren’t listening, or when instead we were thinking how some other person needed to hear this!
No: this is about you and me. Ask yourself now, if the litany below was the checklist that God was using tonight, to evaluate our lives, based on our immediate relationships, how might you or I stack up?
Love is patient.
Love is kind.
Love is not jealous.
Love is not boastful.
Love is not arrogant or rude.
Love does not insist on its own way.
Love is not irritable or resentful.
Love does not rejoice at wrong, but rejoices in the right.
Love bears all things.
Love believes all things.
Love hopes all things.
Love endures all things.
Love never ends.
As for prayerful devotion, wise foresight, bold faith, selfless philanthropy, or even selfless courage, they will all pass away. (cf, 1 Cor 13:4-8)
Yes, the three Theological virtues that need to grow in our lives—that should have been growing in our lives all these past years and decades!—are faith, hope, and love: faith in Jesus Christ our Lord and only savior; hope that by His grace and forgiveness we will spend eternity with him; and complete selfless love of God and neighbor. But through all this, still, the one greatest thing that too many of us lack, the one thing that will mean anything in the end, is love. (cf. 1 For 13)
And this is precisely what the Second Vatican Council Fathers proclaimed in the Dogmatic Constitution on the Church (Lumen Gentium). Consider seriously this important exhortation:
He is not saved, however, who, though part of the body of the Church, does not persevere in charity. He remains indeed in the bosom of the Church, but, as it were, only in a “bodily” manner and not “in his heart.” (LG 14; CCC 837; emphasis mine)
It’s not so important how I’ve failed to love in the past, Lord forgive me, or how I might love in the future, Lord willing, but how I begin loving in these ways right now, my spouse, my children, my grandchildren, my neighbors, my coworkers, every person that God has put into my life so that they might experience His love through me.
This is Red Zone Thinking.
I recently was a guest on the Al Kresta radio program. Al’s mother had recently passed, so Tom Nash was filling in, and they needed to fill the time with some last minutes guests–so digging to the bottom of the barrel, they gave me a call. It was the day of the NCAA College football playoffs, so it was a prime opportunity for a brief, off the cuff, discussion of Red Zone Thinking.
Yesterday was the feast day of St. Francis de Sales. He was particularly known for emphasizing that, though each Christian is to seek holiness, we each need to approach this differently due to our individual vocations. In his Introduction to the Devout Life, quoted in the morning’s Office of Readings, he wrote: “devotion must be practiced in different ways by the nobleman and by the working man, by the servant and by the prince, by the widow, by the unmarried girl and by the married woman. But even this distinction is not sufficient: for the practice of devotion must be adapted to the strength, to the occupation and to the duties of each one in particular.”
But even given these differences, his writings suggest that he would certainly agree that what we are calling Red Zone Thinking would, nevertheless, apply across that board. In one of his lesser known works, The Directory, he wrote, in his discussion of Praying Throughout the Day:
“Upon the stroke of the hour lament that many hours of your life have been uselessly spent. You ought to call to mind: that you must give an account of this present hour and every minute of your life, that you are approaching eternity, that hours seem like ages to the souls in hell, that your own death is swiftly approaching, that your last hour may soon be at hand. After these reflections, say a fervent prayer that God may be merciful to you at that last hour. There is absolutely no doubt that this will be the case if you have been very faithful to this way of acting. Practice it at all times and on all occasions.”
I’m guessing that the majority of us “moderns”—even the more religious among us—might think it absurd to think that God will hold us accountable for “every minute” of our lives. But maybe this is more indicative of how flippantly most of us take “every minute” of our lives, and how mindlessly we recite the words of the Confiteor at every Mass: “I confess to almighty God … that I have greatly sinned, in my THOUGHTS and in my WORDS, in WHAT I HAVE DONE and in WHAT I HAVE FAILED TO DO…”.
Red Zone Thinking involves taking all this a bit more urgently:
“Okay, Lord, up until now, I haven’t taken any of this very seriously. But starting now, with the mercy of Your forgiveness, and the help of Your grace—recognizing that my “last hour may soon be at hand”—let me be more cognizant of my thoughts, words, and actions, always remembering that You stand beside me, not just in judgement, but to help me walk, and talk, and think in ways that are more pleasing to You, and more helpful to every person You’ve placed in my life! In the time You’ve given me, may everyone I meet see and hear You in me.”
Admittedly, the “red zone” is a football thing, and therefore a kind of guy thing, so, first, I apologize to any readers who have little interest or knowledge in American football—who have been blessed with the grace to focus on things of heaven and not things of this world. (And I confess, I did spent a few hours watching the recent four divisional playoff games, and they were all quite amazing!!)
But then again, I’m an old guy, and have just found that the idea of “red zone thinking” is a helpful metaphor—not only for how I need to be thinking during these “last twenty-yards” of my own life, but how we need to be thinking about the present state of our country, culture, world, and even Church. Actually, this is how Christ called all of His followers to always be thinking, wherever they’re at along the “playing field of life.”
A football field is one hundred yards long. Between the goal lines, two opposing teams have a row, as the Brits might put it. They battle it out, the offense of one trying to score points while the defense of the other trying to stop ‘em. Both the offensive and the defensive squads of both teams have long and varying play lists and strategies, for whatever situation might arise between the goal lines.
But once an offense moves into the Red Zone—the last twenty yards before the opponent’s goal line—an entirely different mindset arises. The players become a bit more serious, they breath harder and sweat more profusely, smoke rises from their nostrils. Now the offense has only twenty yards and the short end-zone to work with, while, on the other side of the line-of-scrimmage, the defense has only this reduced field to guard. So the playlists and strategies for both squads get much smaller and more specific.
The game of football lends itself to many analogies of life, and maybe in this blog my guests and I will explore some of these. But my main reason for this blog has little to do with football. Rather, I want us to consider taking a bit more seriously—a bit more urgently—where we are in relation to God our Creator through Jesus Christ, His Son.
Generally, I would assume that most of us (though we might assume we are always close to Jesus, especially through the sacraments) generally live our lives as if our actual final, critical meeting with our Lord is many years in the future—actually, many of us seem to live as if this future encounter is never going to happen. Most of us seem to live our lives as if we’re back on our own 20-yard-line of life, with the goal line somewhere way off over the horizon.
Red Zone Thinking means reconsidering all aspects of our Christian Faith with a more urgent seriousness—if we were to find ourselves standing face-to-face with Jesus tonight, would we be ready to “give a reason for the hope that is in us.”
There are many quotes I could share as an example of Red Zone Thinking, but here’s one I came across recently, from Evagrios the Solitary (345-399 AD), a disciple of the Cappadocian and Desert Fathers. In his writings on watchfulness, he wrote:
“A monk should always act as if he was going to die tomorrow; yet he should treat his body as if it was going to live for many years. The first cuts off the inclination to listlessness, and makes the monk more diligent; the second keeps his body sound and his self-control well balanced” (from the Philokalia, Vol.1, p. 53 (Faber and Faber, London: 1979)).
One could argue, “But that’s for monks! What’s that got to do with me!”
Well, as I wrote the first draft of this post, I was interrupted by an email informing me of the funeral of a friend, who was my own age and had died unexpectedly from complications with Covid. I think Red Zone Thinking means putting aside all the excuses we’ve been using all these years—that have stood in the way of us growing in grace—and maybe wondering, with the realization that any one of us might also die tomorrow, “What did those monks and other respected spiritual writers know that I don’t?”
Maybe it’s time for me to take these last 20-yards seriously
“You therefore, beloved, knowing this beforehand, beware lest you be carried away with the error of lawless men and lose your own stability. But grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. To him be the glory both now and to the day of eternity. Amen.” (2 Peter 3:17-18)