My dear parishioners, I remember vividly the very first time I entered a Catholic Church, St. Anne in Houston. That day was Divine Mercy Sunday. Similarly, I recall the third Sunday just as clearly. Having arrived early to enjoy the quietness of the large worship area and pray before the evening Sunday Mass, I took a seat towards the back of the Church next to the main aisle. Shortly after I closed my eyes, someone tapped me firmly on the right shoulder. Startled, I turned around to see a very tall man standing in the aisle gazing down on me. To see his face, I had to look up at the high ceiling of the nave. He wasn’t a giant, but he was about six and half feet tall. He said to me, “I’m sorry to bother you sir, but would you like to help us take up the collection for the Mass?” “No,” I replied, “I’m sorry. No.” The tall man excused himself politely and returned to the back of the Church.
 
I didn’t know how to process what had just just occurred, my mind being a blank. I thought I was a totally anonymous visitor, but I guess I wasn’t. Moments later, I found myself wrestling with this discerning thought, as though from God himself: Did you come through those doors into this Church to kneel down and tell me ‘no’? I was caught red-handed. My thoughts were not my own! I realized in an instant that coming into the Catholic Church was the most important thing I had done in my whole life to that point.  I came to St. Anne because God engraved these words across my heart: You are to go to that Church, go through those doors, get down on your knees, and thank me for everything I have done for you. To say ‘no’ surely would betray these words. Saying ‘no’ would negate my very own self. I might as well command my heart to cease beating.
 
 I took a deep breath, got up and searched out the tall man at the back, and said, “I’ll help you. What do I need to do?” I admit to being quite nervous about it all. The tall man said, “Just keep your eyes on us, and do what we do. You’ll do just fine.” He was right. I assisted the usher team that Sunday evening, serving for the first time in God’s Roman Catholic Church! And making the first of many Christian friendships that would enrich and sustain me along the way. The tall man’s name was Jerry Carver. Myrton Farr would become my Catholic godfather. Lewis Kirchner gave me a gold pen and clock set which I’ve treasured to this day. Corinne Zeutzius was my Bible partner.
 
Looking back to that tap on the shoulder, I can say that I’ve never again said ‘no’ to what God has put before me. You don’t have to wait for God himself to give you a ‘sign’. Our Lord was annoyed with persons who leveraged their faith on provable miracles, saying, "Unless you see signs and wonders you will not believe."  [Jn 4:48]  After his resurrection, Jesus reproved his apostle Thomas for demanding a wound examination before he would accept the reality of his rising from the dead. “Do not be faithless, but believing,” he told Thomas.  [Jn 20:27] 
 
The closest you can get to heart of our loving savior is to say ‘yes’. Start by saying ‘yes’ to Jesus as Lord and Savior in the core of your very own life. Say ‘yes’ to the power of Jesus’ Spirit to open the riches of his Word in your life. Say ‘yes’ to serving Jesus with your own hands and heart. You cannot give more than Christ gives to you, for our good God will not be outdone in generosity. After my first experience taking up the Mass collection at St. Anne, I was not asked again to help for many weeks. I was, after all, just a visitor to St. Anne until I entered the Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults. But the fact that Jerry the Tall Man thought I looked like a Catholic was enough for me to realize that I had come to the right place. YES! Sincerely in the hearts of Jesus and Mary. Your pastor, Reverend Richard Barker.
 
 
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