This week, I did a burial at sea for a friend's mom. It was a beautiful experience, and my first time of doing this kind of service. My friend's mom, was a declared athiest. Something that greatly disturbed her daughter, as well as her sisters. But Lois grew up in a Christian Fundamentalist home, and grew weary of the rigidity. Lois was a creative person, an artist, designer, and the strict confines of her home, didn't sit right with her spirit. She was also a nurse, and like doubting Thomas, she apparently needed the tangible proof, of a scientist' mind to believe. Jesus met Thomas where he was, and gave him the tangible proof. He allowed him to touch his hands and his side, and Thomas believed. I believe Jesus met Lois in her last days as well, and met her in her place of need. So, we poured her ashes into the ocean, and we dropped rose buds and pedals in the water to bless her as well. She is at peace.

Ironically, the next day I had a conversation with a relative of one of my hospice patient who is a fundamentalist. Before I could say good afternoon, she wanted to know if I was saved, when it happened, and if it was according to some particular scriptures. She barely let me answer her questions before she added another question to her exam. But when she finally listened, she declared me having passed her test. I wanted to tell her that it isn't her that is giving the test or the grade, and that I really didn't need her approval. I wanted to tell her that rather than one declared time of salvation, I in fact have been saved many times over. Each and every time I come to a crossroads in life and in my spiritual journey, and I choose to follow the way of the cross, I am saved. I am born again, each and every time I choose to follow, or when I surrender another aspect of my flawed nature, to choose new birth. It isn't a test, it is a relationship.

She declared to me that all Muslims are going to hell, and that she can see their relatives in Hell just crying and begging for someone to tell their living relatives the truth. I wanted to ask her how she knows this particular truth.

I understood why the Lois' of the world become "athiests" when they run up against people like this patient's niece. I am a Christian, and have been since I was born, and baptized, and as I have chosen to follow Christ at the many different stages of my life. And I resented being put on the spot, like my entire life of relationship with Christ was somehow on the block to be judged by her. I wanted to ask her when God had died and left her to make the decisions. And I remembered the important words of St. Francis of Assisi who said, "Preach the gospel. Use words if necessary." I remembered the teachings of my reformed tradition that reminds us it is not about us, and our actions before God but about God's initiation in our lives. It is always God who initiates relationship with us. It is God who chooses us. It is God who loved us first. It is God that I answer to.

So, I kept my mouth shut, and didn't say all the stuff I wanted to say, because, this week in Lent, I am remembering Jesus, being tested by others as well, and being accused of things he didn't do and he remained silent. There are times when remaining silent is the best, because they don't really want to hear what you have to say anyway, and we really don't have to answer to the legalists anyway. So, I remained silent, and I let her know I would pray for her and her aunt, and when I hung up, I silently prayed that her aunt might pass into a place of peace before her niece arrives, for her own sake. I know, that isn't the most spiritually righteous prayer I could have prayed, but it was honest.