In a recent message from Saint Michael at a gathering of believers in Dublin on a Sunday morning, I was struck again by the fact that the books of the New Testament are really letters. Written by ordinary people to their contemporaries. With no idea that their words would resonate thousands of years later. Words inspired by, and full of God.
And these people are now “Saint” this or “Apostle” that. Some of them we know more about than others. Some with flaws and doubts.
I’ve wondered about Paul, mentioning the “thorn” in his side. We don’t know what that was, but it’s an intriguing reminder that life can be messy, frustrating and that there are negatives that are sometimes out of our control.
And sometimes these negatives come from within.
I’d really need to pause “Saint Mode” now and then; my aggression rising in traffic, my selfish wants, my lack of action in injustice. My many imperfections, some small, some large.
But the truth is Saint Mode can’t be deactivated. It’s not something that I control or own. I’ve been paid for, cleansed. Welcomed to the multitude of Saints. The priesthood of all believers.
And I’m an ongoing work in progress. Saint Andrew, the flawed. Saint Andrew, the improving. Saint Andrew, made holy by grace.
Bridging the gap between Sunday behaviour and everyday behaviour, so that there’s no difference, at any time, no matter who is involved.
What would your own letter to Galatians, or Corinthians, or Dubliners contain?