The liturgical calendar, with the start of the season of Advent, has recently turned a page into a new year. Over the previous weeks the daily scripture readings took on a different character. There were passages from both the Hebrew and Christian Testaments filled with strange, dark imagery, heavenly beings or Jesus speaking of what is about to take place: terrible beasts and / or horrific destruction. These writings are known as apocalyptic literature.

The word Apocalypse is from two Greek words meaning to uncover or to reveal. This literature was developed and used among the Israelites between the second century BC and the second century AD. This was a particularly difficult period in the history of the people of Israel. They had been conquered, exiled, and passed from one pagan ruler to another. Most of these rulers were hostile to the people and faith of Israel. Apocalyptic literature grew out of the decline of the classic prophetic voices. It used highly graphic symbolism to speak a message of warning and of consolation.

While most apocalyptic writings spoke of the end of times and the culmination of the world as we know it, the symbols were tied to present people, trends and events. And these writings always delivered a message of hope. Whatever is happening now will not last, God will prevail.

Some people today are raising the alarm that we are now living in apocalyptic times, and there seem to be reasons for thinking that this is so. We have what Pope Francis named as World War III erupting in various places around the globe. Some nations continue to develop and stockpile horrendous weapons that are already capable of destroying our beloved planet multiple times over. Those that are still in the planning stage are unimaginable. 

Climate change is already inundating low-lying islands and devouring coastlines. Technology races ahead with little or no human restraints or guardrails. A politics of fear is turning large groups of people to mass hatred of the stranger. A very few individuals control and dominate the lives and wellbeing of vast numbers of people. But all of this does not add up to an apocalypse as the Bible envisioned it. There is the widespread misery and terrible destruction, but without hope.

Hope may seem elusive or ephemeral to those who live with their eyes open. Hope is never found in the concrete reality, but this reality may actually direct attention to the only source of hope – God. There are hope-filled signs around us. When good things happen, when anyone chooses to act out of kindness or compassion, when people live out what we see portrayed in those “feel-good” movies or books (and people do act in these wonderful, generous and caring ways), these serve as a compass pointing toward the true north – that is God. Look for hope this season, especially in the little, the surprising, and the unexpected.

 

We, human beings, seem to be wired to direct our lives toward an all-encompassing reality. We hunger and thirst for more. Nothing less than an ultimate concern that engages our totality will satisfy us, but there are plenty of sidetracks and shortcuts that we can follow and get lost in. We then settle for what is less than fulfilling, even though it may thoroughly distract us, and render the illusion of being the secret, essential element (or elements) that make us whole.

And, some people learn at a very early age that people around them are unreliable. After all, every one of us is broken, wounded, limited. So, they may try to substitute their own gifts and talents, instincts, intelligence or survival strategies in place of those they looked to for help, who have failed them in some way. This is like building on defective concrete. It looks like a strong foundation, but it’s only a matter of time before it cracks, crumbles, fails. Then there’s a choice: pretend that one’s life is solid, stable, thriving, or realize the truth and reach out to God – the only reliable basis on which to build a life. 

In the Gospel of Luke (Luke 16:9-13), Jesus warns against giving our lives over to anything other than God. This is easier said than done. God can seem distant, at times unresponsive. Being pure spirit, God isn’t as tangible as the concrete things that make up our world. We might cry out to God in times of need. All we may get in return is silence, or the echo of our own desperation. Where is God when we need God? may be a question that haunts us. Do we choose to stake our lives on Abba-God, Whom we can never comprehend, or on whatever “wealth” we’ve been given or attained?

The word in this passage that is translated as “money” or as “dishonest wealth” is mammon. The Jewish rabbis speak of mammon almost as if it acts as a false god in our life, an idol. Mammon encompasses all possessions that a person comes to rely on – whether these be things, money, property, status, skill, good looks, fame, education, charm, health, job/career, relationships, intelligence, organizational position, youth, religious activities/devotions… All these are very good in themselves, but become detrimental when they come between us and God. They take over God’s place in our life.

Unless the One Beyond All Else is at the center of what we are about, if we ever stop, listen, and look deeply into our life we will find only emptiness. Disillusionment and dissatisfaction is a terrible and necessary discovery! According to Jesus (Luke 16:13), we have a fundamental choice: “No one can serve two masters. It’s either Abba-God or mammon.” To which master are we attached? (The New Testament word is enslaved.) Would we rather serve a master that desires all and only what is truly good for us, or a master that will use us and dispose of us as soon as we no longer serve its purpose, or advance its agenda?

 

A main theme in the Gospel of Luke is Jesus’ journey to Jerusalem. This narrative stretches from chapter 9, verse 51 to chapter 19, verse 28. Luke frames the mission of Jesus with the necessity for him to proclaim the gospel message at the very heart of his people – in their capitol city. Jesus feels deeply the urgency that Israel hears and responds to the challenge: “Change your attitude, your mindset, and our habitual understanding of how God operates. Face the consequences of not acting now to promote the establishment of the Reign of God before it’s too late. The path you are on can only lead to massive destruction and misery for many.”

As Jesus goes along from village to town along the route to Jerusalem, he continues to do all he can to help his hearers to understand what God’s Reign could mean for them. It’s near. It’s dynamic. Though it may seem tiny, it has power within to transform humanity, and history itself, one person at a time.

As he makes his way, someone comes up to Jesus (Luke 13:23) and asks, “Lord, will only a few be saved?” This is the wrong question. The questioner implies that he /she is concerned with the odds of salvation. “Will I be saved? Will I be one of the few upon whom God smiles and takes pity?” Will my loved ones be saved? 

In the Book of Revelation (The Apocalypse), Chapters 7 and 14 mention the number 144,00 as the total of those sealed from among the faithful followers of Jesus of Israelite origin. A remnant of twelve thousand are designated from each of the so-called Twelve Tribes of Israel (12x12x1,000). Some people, who believe the Bible must be read literally, understand that from all humans who have ever lived, only 144,000 will be saved. The number twelve is one of several symbolic numbers in the Bible. It stands for fullness or completeness.

But, also in Chapter 7 (Apocalypse 7:9), it states that a huge crowd, too many to count from every country: from all tribes, peoples, and languages are robed in white and stand before Jesus, the Lamb. In other words, we have no way of guessing who, or how many, will be saved. There will be more than we can imagine, and there will be surprises. Salvation is God’s work, and God doesn’t think or act the way we do.

False prophets abound, preaching salvation for the elite, the entitled, the few. There is a secret recipe, a well-guarded formula, that gives guaranteed access to God’s gated palace of the saved. Those others, the dregs, the left-behind, will suffer, and rightly so. That’s no concern of ours!  So they believe.

Salvation is God’s business, and God is concerned with all people and all creation. God desires everyone to be healed and liberated, and this happens in the solidarity of community. Salvation is a group project. The more of us growing together in love the better. Isolated, we are lost and unprotected.   

The inquirer in Luke 13:23 has not been listening or paying attention to what Jesus has been teaching. The Reign of God is about bringing salvation near to others through un-self-centered love. How many is the wrong question. How can I help God’s Reign to come? is preferable.

On the eve of the Feast of All Saints (All Hallows’ Eve = Halloween), it seems good to consider who are recognized as saints and why. Also to go deeper into what holiness is – a quality often associated with saintly people.

The formal process the Catholic Church uses to decide who is a saint has evolved over time. Originally saints were simply proclaimed by popular acclamation. People recognized that this or that person had lived a very good, faithful life. Now the process is much more complex, and fraught with potential problems. There’s a whole office at the Vatican dedicated to identifying who is a saint. But it takes years, with investigations that may or may not be biased, and those proposing people as saintly spend very much money to see the process through. 

Deceased founders of religious orders and movements have the backing of their members, both through prayer and finances. Others seem to go to the head of the line because someone very high in the church has a strong preference that they become saints to serve as models for what that official considers to be holy today. The point is, it’s not always personal holiness that determines who enters the ranks of  acknowledged sainthood, and human motivation can, and does, factor in.

Léon Bloy, a French novelist, has this quote in one of his works: “The only real sadness, the only true failure, the only great tragedy in life is not to become a saint.” This certainly sounds as if Bloy imagined that sanctity and sainthood were within reach, not some impossible ideal meant only for a few, elite spiritual champions. Life lived in relationship with God, and focused outward toward those around us, offers the possibility of becoming saintly. All who live their lives with a bigger purpose and awareness of the needs of others have the necessary elements for sainthood.

Way back in 1949, a German priest and pastoral theologian, Josef Goldbrunner, wrote a little book entitled, Holiness is Wholeness. These two words share the same linguistic roots. Holiness, then, is not about doing all kinds of “holy activities” – practices that can be counted, calculated, or quantified by numbers or by time.  Holiness is realized by us becoming wholly who God desires us to be. This happens in a very natural way through being loved and by loving.

What is wholeness? It can be described as living wholeheartedly, growing into who we have been fashioned to be by the circumstances of our lives. A whole, therefore holy, person is interiorly free, responsible (able to respond rather than to react), aware of reality, and loving. Of course, God is behind all this, inspiring and inviting us to become more and more fully who God sees us, knows us, to be. 

The model for Christians is Jesus. He lived and grew, as we do. Jesus made choices that little by little led him to becoming so open to God that God was able to do great good through him. His entire life was a revelation of God with us, and among us. Jesus lived wholly. He didn’t allow himself to get sidetracked on other paths, or with less essential interpretations of the Law. Jesus kept his focus on God and kept discerning God’s desire for him on each step of his earthly journey. 

Sure, we don’t always get it right. But we can, and need to, become saints – people led by the Spirit of God to grow day by day in love, through love. Holiness is never about striving to achieve perfection. Perfection is a both impossible for us, and a temptation – an unachievable ideal that distracts us from loving God, others, and ourselves.

God only wants us to be who we are, as best we can right now. With all the voices (inner and outer) judging and persuading us, it takes heroic effort to simply be attentive to growing moment by moment in love. And love is the hallmark of holiness, and of all saints, well-known or hidden.

A majority of people have some kind of practice that feeds, strengthens, heals or comforts them interiorly as they try to navigate the often stormy waters of life. These practices may vary greatly, but the persons engaged in them find them beneficial. They find peace, a sense of centeredness, inner freedom or clarity. Not everyone would name their practice “spiritual,” and others might find the practices that some people take on a form of superstition. The goal of spiritual practice is to become freer, more fully alive, more loving, and for Christians, to put on the mind and heart of Jesus – living in whatever way we can as Jesus did.

For the one who intentionally seeks to grow and to deepen spiritually, who desires a felt experience or connection with the One who is greater, there are many paths and many disciplines that can be fruitful. God is infinitely creative, so the spiritual journey of each one will have a unique quality to it. Trying to mimic or copy another’s spiritual practice often leads to a dead-end. There is no user’s manual or recipe card to guide us to get a spiritual practice right

This is where we might run into problems. When our practice becomes our focus, we can lose our way. The practice, whether of prayer, mindfulness, charity, self-denial or some other penance, can become a substitute for opening ourselves more fully to God. We invest so much time and energy in practicing and attempting to do the spiritual practice or practices correctly that this effort consumes us. When we feel we haven’t done it perfectly, we might either become discouraged, or we might just engage ourselves even more intensely. Neither of these options leads us to peace or to growth in our relationships with God and others. All of these, probably well-meaning attempts, distract us and can turn us in on ourselves.

The Spirit of God, unencumbered by our fears and ego, can behave quite wildly. For some God’s Spirit can seem almost shy; for others God may appear very insistent – depending on our personalities. God treats each one as an individual and only desires what is truly good for each and for all. We are moved by God’s Spirit toward fullness of life.

As with every dimension of living spiritually, choosing, modifying and / or maintaining a spiritual practice is best supported by exercising the gift of discernment. We discern in order to learn how to see and to choose as God desires. Jesus is a model for a discerning life. He somehow managed to keep his attention and awareness on Abba-God, on God’s presence, and on Abba’s preferences for him throughout a busy and, at times, tumultuous ministry. The fruit of life directed through continual discernment is to develop a heart that is open, open to God, and with God, open to everyone, no exceptions. We come to see and to love inclusively.

With this discerning mindset we can better recognize which practice or practices are aiding us on our journey, whether it’s time to adapt how we are practicing, when it’s time to let go of, or to add a practice. Left to our own inclinations, there is the danger that our ego will impose itself  between us and God. Spiritual practices are gifts from God. They can  help us to learn, deepen and grow. As with everything, let God take the lead.

 

Because the Reign of God is at the heart of Jesus’ message, it seems worthwhile to focus on this reality a bit more. Many, if not most, of the parables Jesus told are his wide-ranging attempt to describe the indescribable – of what does God’s reign consist, what is it’s dynamic, how might we recognize God’s reign at work among us. Jesus does this by making comparisons. “The Reign of God is like…”

Whether it’s seeds, or a wheat field sabotaged by an enemy, a treasure, a dragnet, a magnificent pearl or yeast, Jesus is sowing the idea that God’s reign, even as it may seem “too little,” has an internal energy, is worth everything we have, and requires our full cooperation. The Reign of God is unstoppable, and at the same time, it depends on us. We may imagine that we have lost something extremely precious, but if we go out of our way to look, it can be found. This may be costly to us personally, but our efforts will bear fruit in both little and big ways.

It isn’t too strong to say that Jesus was driven by the breaking in of God’s reign to our world. The broken, wounded state of humanity, and of all creation, which leaves a path of destruction, pain and suffering – like the track of a tornado – moved Jesus to both compassion and to a clear sense of urgency. His acts of healing and forgiveness were intended to enflame others to recognize God at work  and join his efforts.

Jesus understood that if we did not radically change our habitual individual and tribal self-centeredness the suffering and devastation would multiply. Only by seeing that we are all part of the same, single human family can we open ourselves to sharing what we have, including the beautiful gifts God has entrusted us with. God excludes no one from the divine love. We are called to do likewise. 

The time is now. The place is right where we are. Either we will open our world to God’s reign or we will surrender humanity and creation to forces of indifference, violence, violation, and arrogant ignorance. The Reign of God is quietly at work trying to mitigate, reverse, and replace evils with good.

The greatest threat to God’s reign is our apathy. Apathy can be expressed by a lack of energy to do what is in front of us to do. Or it can be the smothering of what God desires with our becoming very busy doing what we think or feel God would want, or what others tell us is the right thing to do. After all, we know! We become no longer able to feel connection, compassion, or to discern. This can lead to self-righteousness, judging, and replacing action on behalf of others with a whole array of pious acts.  

We can bring about, and build up the Reign of God by living as Jesus lived. He dedicated himself totally to love through acts of healing, liberating, forgiving, comforting, including and empowering others. God’s Spirit is waiting to enliven us and transform us. We only need to open our minds and hearts and spirits to God.

 There can be some confusion about the “when” and the “where” of the Reign of God. The gospels indicate that, with the coming of Jesus, God’s Reign enters into human history. But it seems obvious, from the presence of so much that is contrary to God in our world, that the Reign of God is still incomplete. Scholars call this the “already / not yet” dimension of God’s Reign. 

A possible source of confusion about where God’s Reign is might come from the fact that the Reign of God has different designations in the gospels. The Gospels of Mark and of Luke, written for different Gentile-Christian communities, have Jesus proclaim the in-breaking of the Reign (Kingdom) of God. John’s gospel doesn’t even mention God’s Reign. Instead it points us to the “life without limits (to the full, eternal life, abundant life) that Jesus offers.” While the Gospel of Matthew, written for a Jewish-Christian community struggling to understand how to follow Jesus and the Law of God spelled out in the Torah, has Jesus proclaim the Reign (Kingdom) of Heaven. 

Over the centuries, the Israelites had developed a very strong reverence for the name of God. Pious children of Israel wouldn’t even think or dare to utter God’s most holy Name. God is so far above and beyond us that we cannot possibly capture God in a name or a title. God revealed the mysterious divine Name to Moses at the burning bush, “I AM”, “I am the One Who Alone IS”, “I am present and active among you”, “I AM WHO I AM.” (Exodus 3:14) The writer of Matthew’s gospel wouldn’t consider using God’s name in connection with the divine reign.

People considered heaven to be God’s throne, from which distant, un-scaleable height God rules. To refer to the Kingdom of Heaven can lead people to imagine that God only reigns somewhere beyond our broken world, after our lifetimes. Or after Jesus comes again, when everything will be renewed. But that’s not what Jesus said. “The Reign of God is here, now.” But there is work to do to build this reign, to bring it more fully among us.

Jesus wasn’t abandoned by Abba-God, and Jesus didn’t abandon us. The Spirit of Jesus, the Spirit of God, the Holy Spirit is alive and well, working 24/7/365 to inspire people everywhere toward goodness, wholeness, unity, wellbeing for all. This is Jesus’ gift to us. The transforming action of the Spirit is moving whoever is open and desires what is better for humanity, and for all creation. It’s up to us to embody this spirit of goodness to continue the process of giving birth to the Reign of God.

If we are like Moses, desiring to see the “promised land,” the fullness of the Reign of God, in our own lifetime, we will be frustrated, and may become bitter and cynical. God’s Reign is not our goal. God’s Reign is not a goal. The Reign of God is the action of God’s Spirit within and among us. Our part is to be faithful, open, receptive and responsive to whatever the Spirit of God moves us to say, to do, to be.

 

This reflection is inspired by an insight from the New Testament scholar, Gerhard Lohfink. 

At the heart of Jesus’ preaching is the Reign of God. Jesus believed and understood that the Reign of God is happening here and now. The gospels report Jesus saying that this Reign of God is with us, among us, within us. But it’s up to us to hear and to respond to the invitation to step away from other kingdoms or empires or allegiances or incompatible involvements and to choose to embrace God’s Reign. Whether we are searching for something more or better, or we are just going about our daily activities, the Reign of God is here, waiting to be discovered and wholeheartedly welcomed.

God desires that we, all people, be well, whole, free, healed and happy. Jesus’ ministry embodied this. How totally opposite this is to many of the rulers, bosses, or leaders in our world! They want to use others to make their own lives better in some way, regardless of what this does to anyone else. Fear, greed, violence, lust govern them.

The human heart longs for fullness. Nothing less will ever be able to satisfy us. No matter how much we have, it can never bring us peace or joy or a sense of connection. God’s Reign promises the fulfillment we long for. But it comes at a steep price. We need to be ready to give ourselves completely to God’s project.

Why would we do this? Why would we invest our whole being in the Reign of God? Lohfink suggests that it’s because suddenly we find ourselves seized by an overwhelming sense of rightness, joy and belonging. Because our eyes are opened to a bigger picture of reality and our hearts are confirmed in our deepest desire, we can say, “Yes! This is what I truly want to be part of! This is who I am!” From that point on our lives have a clear focus and direction. 

And this life-engagement differs from person to person based on who we are – our history, our gifts, and our temperament. But all contribute to the transforming and transformative energy of the Reign of God. It’s not necessarily about doing big or extraordinary things. Everyone’s effort, within each person’s vocation, aids in bringing more of goodness into our world. Where God reigns, our hearts find home, and our lives make life better for all.

Thanks to those who proposed topics for reflection.  This is a response to one of the requests.

When the early followers of Jesus tried to make sense of the amazing and redefining experience that they had had, with and of Jesus, the only religious categories available to try to “fit” Jesus into were from their Jewish roots and traditions. But the uniqueness of the mystery of Jesus went far beyond their old beliefs and practices. He was new wine to their old wineskins.

These first disciples wanted to understand and to explain what they knew in their hearts, memories and shared stories. So, when the “Jesus communities” strove to comprehend the incomprehensible they fell back on images and titles from their shared history such as “Prophet”, “Messiah” (The Anointed One), “Son of Man”, “The One Who is to Come”, and “Son of God.” Here we’ll look at two of these that were attached to Jesus: Son of Man, and Son of God. 

In the Israelite culture, as in many contemporary ones, it would be impolite for someone to speak directly of themselves, using the pronoun “I” for example. So, frequently, when the gospels have Jesus referring to himself, he uses the phrase, “Son of Man.” “The Son of Man has”… instead of “I have.” Another common usage of the phrase, “Son of Man” is a replacement for a human being or human beings. “The Son of Man is”… instead of humanity is.

Where this can get a bit confusing is after the Christian community’s generational reflection on Jesus, who he was, and what he meant. They turned to a mysterious figure in the Book of Daniel. Daniel was a very late prophet in the history of people of Israel. His work is very influenced by the Greek world into which the ancestors of Abraham and Sarah were scattered.

Daniel, in Chapter Seven, depicts some of the prophet’s visions, including about “one like a son of man (human being)” coming into God’s presence and receiving an everlasting dominion. The Jewish followers of Jesus, concluded that Jesus had to be this promised heavenly ruler. He was a Son of David after all! They linked Jesus to this apocalyptic figure.

To the scholars, it’s also quite clear that Jesus didn’t, and wouldn’t, identify himself as the Son of God. It would have been blasphemous in his culture to claim a special or definitive sonship from God. This identification is most strongly made and held by the community responsible for the Gospel of John, two generations after Jesus’ time on earth. They had had much more time to explore the theological implications of the Jesus event.

The whole people of Israel understood themselves as the son of God. God birthed them as a people. God was their father. They also attributed this title to angels or other heavenly beings. Jesus certainly would have seen himself as part of the people of Israel – a son of God in that sense. 

In the Greco-Roman world, which is the historical context for Jesus and the early Christians, the title “son of god” was customarily applied to rulers, heroes, or other extraordinary individuals. The emperors, over time, considered themselves divine, “sons of the gods.” When the centurion (Mark 15:39) who commanded the troops responsible for executing Jesus saw how Jesus bore his suffering, without hatred, without any emotional breakdown – like a true hero, the officer declared, “Surely this was a son of god.” Of course, later on as awareness of the fullness of who Jesus is increased, the first followers re-translated this wondering cry of the pagan soldier as, “Surely this was the Son of God!”

Faith is a living reality. It either grows or it dies. The gospels are concrete witnesses to the growth of the faith of the primitive Church. Scripture scholars have identified various layers in the gospel texts that we have, and are able to link each layer to a stage in the development of these essential Christian documents. Each new layer reflects deeper faith and clearer understanding of the phenomenon of Jesus – Son of Man, Son of God. 

 

The story of the patriarch, Jacob, in the Book of Genesis (Genesis 25:19-49:33), like the whole of Genesis, is fascinating mix of mythology, folktales, campfire stories with a thin, at times nearly invisible, thread of deep faith. Jacob struggles with his twin brother, Esau, beginning in their mother Rachel’s womb. Esau is born first, but Jacob came out holding tightly to his brother’s heel. The sibling rivalry between these extremely different fraternal twins continues throughout the rest of the biblical narrative about them.

In one version (Genesis 25:29-34) Jacob is cooking a lentil stew and Esau, coming in from the field, is very hungry. Esau asks Jacob for something to eat, and Jacob – always the wheeler-dealer and trickster – says, “Sure. Just sell me your birthright.” Esau is more concerned with his empty stomach than with his birthright as firstborn, so he answers, “I’m starving to death! What good to me is a birthright?” The firstborn would succeed his father as head of the family and possess authority over all his brothers and sisters.

In another version (Genesis Chapter 27) their father, Isaac, is old and blind. Jacob, with the help of his mother, cheats his brother out of the blessing due to the first born. Now Jacob, according to their tribal traditions, is Esau’s lord. Esau becomes enraged and plans to kill Jacob after his father’s death. Rachel hears of this and sends Jacob away. But this isn’t the end of their contentious relationship.

Jacob survives and prospers because of the combination of his cunning and God’s blessing. Esau does fairly well himself, but can’t forget that his brother wronged him. Esau wants revenge. In Genesis Chapter 32, Jacob manages to avoid a direct confrontation with Esau and tries to appease his brother with large gifts of livestock. One day it was getting late. Night was coming on – when the primitive peoples understood that spirits or demons came out. Esau was in pursuit of Jacob. Jacob sends his wives, children and goods across the river Jabbok and returns to the other side to camp for the night.

During that night something, or someone began to wrestle with Jacob, trying to overcome him. Was it a demon? An angel? Was it God? Jacob grappled with this spiritual opponent until just before sunrise. The contest seemed to end in a tie. Jacob demanded a blessing. The opponent touched Jacob’s hip, dislocating it. When asked, the mysterious figure refused to reveal its name, but did concede the blessing of a new name to Jacob. In bestowing a name, the spiritual wrestler indicates superiority over Jacob. From now on Jacob will be known as Israel, which in Hebrew wordplay comes out as the one who has contested with both man (ish) and God (El).

We almost always would prefer that our spiritual growth and development would come without struggle. Yet we have things from our past and our previous choices and habits that inhibit or hinder us from living as fully as God desires. Sometimes we become content just to go with the flow of our life instead of questioning and discerning. God is both incredibly patient and gentle with us and, at the same time, tenacious.

God will not just let us remain as less than we might be. So, God challenges us to wrestle over whatever holds us back. If we put aside our fears and contend with God, God will prevail, and we will receive a new freedom and a new identity – blessed by God in a totally unexpected way.