Called to Be a Life-Giver by Fran Salone-Pelletier

Readings: 1 Samuel 26:2, 7-9, 12-13, 22-23; 1 Corinthians 15:45-49; Luke 6:27-38

One of the most challenging calls of Christ is the command to be a life-giver. At first blush, it seems to be a simple enough request—especially for someone like me, who has given birth to four children.

When I was pregnant, nine months were spent in anticipation and preparation. My body adjusted to its new task and my imagination painted pictures of the newborn. Names were tested on the tongue. Of course, there were the down moments when hormones raged and nausea ruled. But overall, being pregnant lent a glow to my previously ordinary existence. Even the laborious suffering involved in birthing a new life became an endurable prospect. Just when there seemed to be no end in sight, a loud cry announced the arrival of new life.

Although my days of giving birth are now fond memories, I am yet pregnant with life. Each day dawns with renewed anticipation and preparation. Where once my body was engaged in the process of adjusting and readjusting to its new undertaking, now it is my schedule that changes and becomes more flexible.

In my ministry as a hospital chaplain, it was fairly easy to be a life-giver. The patients were in vulnerable positions, both physically and spirituality. I had only a few hours each day to spend with them, so a cheery smile was not usually difficult to summon. I looked at a patient whose pain was etched in a pale lined countenance, and I felt my own face wrinkle with empathy. I listened to a daughter tell me of her mother’s tireless outpouring of love and effort, an endeavor that had lasted for 99 years, and our tears commingled. We shared the mixed feelings of joy and sorrow at life lived well.

It is no trouble to be a life-giver when the effects are readily noticeable. Nor does it seem to bother me at those times that my busily organized plans are continually being interrupted by life. When I am in the middle of doing something that I deem to be terribly important, however, and my husband asks me the same question I had answered before, I immediately lose my sensitivity and forget all about having a life-giving spirit! At those moments, the challenge of Christ is a clarion call. As God pardons all my iniquities, my foibles, failings, and shortcomings, so must I pardon. As God heals all my ills, so must I heal. In the same manner that I am continually crowned with kindness and compassion, so must I kindly and compassionately honor others.

God is merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in kindness. So, too, must I both follow and lead with mercy, grace, and abundant kindness. Respect must be swift, anger slow. Take a second look. Give another chance. Make room for mistakes and failings. Replace inaudible but ungracious mumblings and mutterings with patiently attentive responses. “Do onto others as you would have them do to you” (Luke 6:31). We call this the “golden rule.” How easily it tarnishes!

The golden rule applies equally to everyone we encounter—friend or foe, acquaintance or foreigner, employer or employee. If I have a hard time compassionately understanding a family member who loves me, what will I do about an enemy who curses me, slaps me in the face, invades my space, and leaves me defenseless?

Though the question is theoretical, its response is far more complicated. We need to be life-giving in all situations, not just the ones that are obvious and easy. When we are tired or annoyed or otherwise put out, then Christ’s challenge becomes ever more pertinent. We must be good to the ungrateful and the wicked, love them by supplanting the death they presently endure with sustaining life. It’s a tall order bearing a solitary requirement: that we imitate Christ. Before I can bring sustenance to others, I need to identify myself with the bread of life.

Intellectually, I know what that means. Emotionally, I cringe with the anticipation of all that it entails. Spiritually, I believe it is the only real way to live. I am faith-filled enough to trust the promise that life will be given me when I am the giver of life. “Give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, will be put back into your lap, for the measure you give will be the measure you get back” (Luke 6:38). With all the imperfections of my humanity, I humbly accept the challenge and heed the warning. ♦

Fran Salone-Pelletier holds a master’s degree in theology. She is the author of a trilogy of scriptural meditations, Awakening to God: The Sunday Readings in Our Lives, in which a version of this reflection originally appeared. She is also a religious educator, retreat leader, lecturer, and grandmother of four. Reach her at hope5@atmc.net.

Image: David Teniers the Younger, The Works of Mercy, 1640s.