Unless the Father draws him

At one of last weekend services there was a wonderful occurrence. During the homily a baby kept making loud baby noises. In the general silence her voice echoed through the church. Being a parish of mainly seniors this was unusual. Later, when it came to the announcements, father (the priest), visibly moved by the sound of the baby, shared his joy at hearing her voice ‘I can’t remember when last I heard such a sound, in this church, and it was like angelic music to my ears’.

Then, as I stood at the back of the church, shaking hands with the congregants, as they departed, the father and mother, with the baby in hand, approached me, ‘Deacon, we would like to get married, and we would like to get married in this church’.

As Sandee and I reflected on the incident, while we drove home, we made the connection with this week’s Gospel John 6: 41-51 ‘Jesus answered…No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draws him.’ The Father was drawing this young family.

The realization felt like a divine affirmation, as if the church itself was being drawn into a new chapter of its life. Sandee and I marveled at how God works in the most unexpected ways, using even the innocent cries of a baby to stir hearts and bring people closer to Him.

It was a gentle reminder that the Spirit moves in all of us, regardless of age, and that our parish, though aging, is still a living, breathing part of the Body of Christ. As we arrived home, I couldn’t help but feel a renewed sense of purpose—perhaps this was the beginning of something beautiful for our parish, a sign that new life was on the horizon, and that our community was being called to embrace it with open arms.

I believe the priest’s words of hospitality were the trigger for the couple. They were the words of the Father drawing them to Him. We never know when our words might be the spark that ignites a flame in someone’s heart, leading them closer to God. In moments like these, it's a reminder that our actions and words, no matter how small or ordinary they seem, can have profound impacts. They can be the gentle nudge someone needs to take that next step in faith, to feel welcomed, loved, and called to something greater.

So often we think that the Father’s actions have to be monumental, grand, and awesome. In reality, it is often the gentle words of kindness, the gurgling sound of a baby, through which the Father speaks to us. These simple, everyday moments carry a divine weight that we might overlook if we're not paying attention.

It’s in these quiet, tender instances that God’s presence is most profoundly felt, reminding us that He is always near, working through the ordinary to touch our hearts and draw us to Him in extraordinary ways. Like Elijah, we recognize God in the gentle breeze.