A Prayer for the New Pope

May 16, 2025May 12, 2025 / Greg Asimakoupoulos

**A celebration banner hangs at the entrance to the Asimakoupoulos’ home**

When the election of Pope Leo XIV was announced a week ago, I hung a banner outside our home to celebrate with the rest of the Christian world. The unexpected appointment of an American pontiff from Chicago resonated personally. We raised our family in the Windy City.

When the white smoke appeared atop the Sistine Chapel, the world had no idea
the new leader of the Catholic church (robed in white) was a White Sox fan. Curiously, the mother of this future pontiff had cheered for the Cubs. His dad (most appropriately) followed the Cardinals. Neither had a clue they were raising one who would become one. But a neighbor did.

When little Bobby Prevost from Dalton, Illinois was six years old, the lady next door said to his parents, “That kid is going to be pope some day!” And time proved her right! My prayer is that time will prove Pope Leo XIV truly is God’s choice to lead a renewal within the Roman church.

Looking back on my seventy-three years of living, I have seen a major shift in my personal perspective toward the Roman Catholic Church. I grew up in a fundamentalist subculture that was quick to question whether my Catholic classmates and neighbors were really Christians in the way I defined the term.

Praying to saints and practicing of penance was foreign to me. So were the concepts of indulgences and purgatory. Whereas my belief structure celebrated salvation “by grace through faith,” my Catholic friends seemed to focus on earning God’s favor. Our doctrinal focus appeared at odds. Gratefully, my limited understanding began to grow as I started to see evidence of God’s grace in the lives of those who saw the mysteries of faith differently than I.

One of the means God used to guide my changing perspective as a youngster was an interfaith program on a local Seattle TV station that featured a Catholic priest, a Jewish rabbi and a Protestant minister. Father William Treacy, Rabbi Raphael Levine and Dr. Robert Fine dialogued about where Judaism and Christianity overlapped and differed. The respect and honor they afforded each other was noteworthy. At the time I had not idea that Rabbi Levine’s sister would become a treasured friend and confidant.

Another means the Almighty utilized to undermine my misconceptions of the Catholic wing of the Church was Bishop Fulton Sheen. As a teenager I would watch this effervescent cleric on television with great interest. I sensed his joy and integrity.

In time I realized that some of my preconceived notions of what Catholics believe were naïve and uninformed. As a chaplain serving a faith-based retirement community for a decade, I had the privilege of shepherding an ecumenical flock. That experience broadened my horizons and expanded my understanding of God’s grace. I came to see that the mystery of God’s grace is beyond my ability to categorize in tight theological boxes.

As I watched the events unfolding from the Vatican with the rest of the world, I opened my laptop and composed a prayer for the pope. I invite you to pray it with me.

Heavenly Father, fill the Holy Father with an abundance of Your truth and mercy
as well as Your humility and love. May this one who grew up in the Windy City, find the winds of the Holy Spirit blowing through St. Peter’s Basilica (and beyond) with gale-force strength. Give Leo the ferocious heart of a lion that will beat strongly and consistently for justice and righteousness. Help him to hear Your still small voice as he verbalizes hope to the least and the lost.

May this one who advocates for the marginalized and misunderstood hold the powerful accountable for their misdeeds. Hold him close to Your heart that he might daily hear
the pulsating evidence of Your grace. Remind this one who carries Peter’s staff of that ancient call to feed Your sheep. Remind him of Your timeless call to do justly, and love mercy and to walk humbly with You. Remind him of the essence of the Gospel that is by grace alone, through faith alone in Christ alone. In His name alone I pray. Amen.

In addition to each week’s post on this website, Greg Asimakoupoulos offers daily video devotionals on his YouTube channel. Here is a sample video. If you are interested in receiving these devotionals Monday through Friday, you can subscribe on Greg’s channel.

A Prayer for Mother’s Day

May 9, 2025May 5, 2025 / Greg Asimakoupoulos

**Greg Asimakoupoulos and his late mother Star at the Owl Soda Fountain**

Although Jesus called you Father,
You are like a mother, too.
You’ve been gentle, kind and merciful to me.
Like a mother hen You gather me
within Your outstretched wings.
Like a nursing mom You nourish tenderly.

Precious Lord, forgive my failings.
With compassion, hold me close.
Take my hand and calm me from the things I fear.
Whisper that You’ll never leave me,
that You’ll shelter me from harm.
Like a mother, please assure me You’ll be near.

The Measure of Greatness

May 2, 2025May 3, 2025 / Greg Asimakoupoulos

**Hugh Steven holding a copy of his memoir**

My wife’s father never knew his mother (or his dad).
But lest you think he had it bad,
Hugh was hewn out of the kind of quarry
that is known for priceless stone.
Rock that is not easily crushed.
Rock that reflects beauty having been polished by pressure.
Rock on which legends are built.

Although he’d never know his birth parents,
and although he was treated as a Cinderfella by his adopted family,
he knew a Heavenly Father’s love.

Spiritually Hugh grew deep in his understanding
of God’s grace and guidance.
Physically, he grew tall and strong
towering over his adoptive family.
Intellectually he grew weary of weak logic and short answers
while contemplating life’s mysteries.
Socially, he grew increasingly uncomfortable in large public settings,
punctuated by small talk.

He grew to love solitude with his countless “friends”
that lined the bookshelves of his beloved office.
And speaking of books, he authored 35 (mostly biographies)
in addition to hundreds of magazine articles.
To research the content for his various publications,
Hugh traveled internationally often for weeks at a time.

Although denied a traditional home life,
he with his wife of nearly 74 years created a loving legacy
celebrated by four children, eleven grandchildren and six great grandchildren.
And when you add it all up, the bottom line is clearly
the measure of greatness.

* Hugh Steven passed away a few days after Resurrection Sunday 2025. Peace to his memory!

** Hugh Steven’s memoir “Looking for God in the Shadows” is available through Amazon
https://www.amazon.com/Looking-GOD-Shadows-Hugh-Steven/dp/1716116058

A Poet Reflects on Poetry

April 25, 2025April 25, 2025 / Greg Asimakoupoulos

**Poetry is a written way of painting with words**

Words that crawl. Words that run.
Words that leapfrog just for fun.
Words that picture the unseen,
those are my stock-in-trade.

Words that paint. Words that rhyme.
Words that dance in metered time.
Words that move the heart to sing
are known as poetry.

That’s my recent rhyme that attempts to define what poetry is. And while some may contend that rhyming is not the same thing as writing poetry, I choose not to debate that point (at least not in this column).

As you may know, April is National Poetry Month. It’s a month set aside to celebrate how poetry contributes to our lives. But I wonder how many people actually take the time to reflect on lyrics that rhyme? In fact, who reads poetry anymore? Who memorizes it like we did in school? Who can list ten poets living or dead?

Do these names mean anything to you? Elizabeth Barrett Browning? Alfred Tennyson? Henry Longfellow? Edgar Guest? Robert Frost? e. e. cummings? Robert W. Service? Annie Johnson Flint? Shel Silverstein? Maya Angelou?

Still, in an age when poetry may be considered passe, rhyming words refuse to be relegated to the past. Consider this: The hallmark of most greeting cards is the poetic sentiment inside. Radio jingles and television commercials are often written as a rhyme. Most secular song lyrics rhyme. So do rap lyrics. What we sing in church are primarily lyrical poems.

Poetry is at odds with the way we ordinarily express ourselves. In everyday parlance we are prone to speak and write in a matter of fact that is efficient and sparse. We say what needs to be said without elaboration. We get to the point as fast as we can in order to move on.

Poetic expression on the other hand employs similes, metaphors and modifiers that enable the reader or listener to visualize a scene and not just a series of words. Poetry is most appreciated with ordinary life collides with extraordinary circumstances. Its purpose is to help us linger in a holy moment and not move on too quickly.

No wonder poems have a reserved seat at inaugurations, graduations, weddings and memorial services. There are some occasions when it takes a poem to adequately capture the spirit of the moment. At times like that, words alone can’t compete with word pictures. So, too, when you find yourself in a place where you need to borrow language to express yourself emotionally.

The Psalms are a case in point. Even though all Scripture is considered inspired, authoritative and applicable to our lives, there is something special about the 150 chapters in the center of our Bibles. When we need to be reminded that God is able to care for our every need, reading Psalm 23 helps us picture that reality more than just stating facts. Visualizing the Lord as a shepherd leading us to green pastures and still waters makes a two-dimensional statement a three-dimensional experience.

I recently collaborated on a book with a graphic artist who specializes in calligraphy. In it, Timothy Botts makes a case for the importance of expressing creativity with words. Tim is skilled at bringing the meaning of words to life with color, shape and font. In his unique style he renders verses of Scripture and popular quotations in a way that illuminates their meaning. His artistic offerings are themselves poetic.

But it doesn’t take someone with a gift in calligraphy to appreciate word pictures and how words picture beauty, love, grief, joy, hope, fear and faith. We all can experience the power of poetry and artistic expression of truth. It just requires taking a little time to reflect on rhyming words or blank verse. Words that are bound to be enjoyed for centuries to come.

The Womb of Faith

April 18, 2025April 18, 2025 / Greg Asimakoupoulos

**Calligrapher Timothy R. Botts renders my Easter poem**

This year my birthday falls on Good Friday. That reality has found me reflecting on the that fact while I’m contemplating my birth seventy-three years ago, Christians around the world are contemplating the death of Christ.

As a follower of Christ, I am also aware that what makes Good Friday good is at the core of what Christians believe. The one I worship was willing to die an undeserved death. And because he was, it makes possible the eternal life he promised when my day for dying eventually comes. In death, there’s life. That spiritual transaction rooted in what took place on that old rugged cross is what many call being “born again.” And so, on a day my family celebrates my physical birth, I am celebrating what made my spiritual rebirth possible.

But here’s the kicker. Our knowledge of what makes Good Friday good was not apparent when the events of that weekend took place. Clearly, what we refer to as Good Friday was not a good day for the One whose death defined it. It was day dominated by a tragic miscarriage of justice. It was a tragic day overshadowed by the torture of an innocent man eventually executed by Roman crucifixion (the most barbarous form of capital punishment of the day).

Jesus’ friends fled in fear hiding from the authorities. Grief-struck women wandered aimlessly without direction. Countless followers of the carpenter-turned-rabbi who had pinned their hopes on this charismatic prophet were devastated. As the result of his death, his teachings, that had fueled thoughts of a messianic kingdom, were called into question.

The body of the popular prophet was wrapped in a linen shroud and buried in a borrowed grave. The cave and the corpse were sealed. The Jewish Sabbath that ushered in that year’s Passover began against the backdrop of unexpected sorrow and undeserved death. As the sun set on Saturday and that sacred Sabbath ended, the long shadows of sadness draped the hearts of Christ’s disciples. There was no reason to suspect anything would alter what appeared to be the new norm.

And then came Sunday. Women brought spices to neutralize the stench of death. But the fragrances they bore were not needed. The grave was open. But no odor needed to be covered. Life had replaced death. Grave clothes were left on the stone slab where the corpse had been positioned. The unexpected sorrow of Friday was now replaced by unexpected celebrations of Sunday.

It wasn’t until the events of Sunday played out that Friday was cast in a positive light. Friday could now be seen as good. Christ’s death was not in vain. With his resurrection there was a validation of his sacrifice two days before.

A few years ago a phrase came to my mind as I contemplated the mystery of the Easter message. The empty tomb is the womb of faith where faith is born anew. I liked the play on words between tomb and womb. Grave and birth. Death and life. In other words, Christ’s resurrection is what grounds our belief system. Easter is the tap root of the Christian faith. To quote the Apostle Paul, if Christ has not been resurrected our faith in his words and the meaning of his death are worthless.

But thanks be to God, Christ is risen. He is risen, indeed! Hope is born anew!