I just walked into the office.

Let me write those words again.

I just WALKED into the office.

Over the past year, I’ve received four lumbar shots, had three MRIs, two x-rays, a myelogram, my bloodwork done several times, three hospital stays, a discectomy, and an anterior lumbar interbody fusion. I’ve used a cane. Then, a walker. Finally, a wheelchair.

So many friends, family, coworkers, and parishioners prayed for me. And those prayers moved mountains. They helped me get in for a second opinion in record time. They convinced a vascular surgeon and a neurosurgeon to operate in an empty operating room on a Saturday morning so I didn’t have to wait until July for their schedules to align. The prayer moved family, friends, and many of you to help in ways I never could have hoped for. Despite the pain and worry, they kept a smile on my face (most days). They helped my wife through months that seemed hopeless. And ultimately they helped the medical team operate successfully.

The grace of God made things happen that would not have happened otherwise.

And this is what Pentecost is all about. It’s true that God didn’t want to leave us—so he left us himself in the Eucharist AND the Holy Spirit. But he also knew we’d need his help.

Much like my daughter who isn’t quite six cannot do a fraction of what I can do, we cannot accomplish what our heavenly Father is capable of. Put more clearly: without God, we are a complicated jumble of mater.

But with God, we are capable of doing things that truly mater. When we pray for the gifs of the Holy Spirit to come alive in us each day, we tap into the supernatural. We say things, understand things, do things, and pray for things we aren’t capable of on our own.

When we allow the Holy Spirit to move in us, we might even have the power to heal a man who was confined to a wheelchair.

BACK TO LIST BACK