The guy from Assisi, not the new pope (though I’ve read a few fine stories about the latter).
Francis came from a wealthy family, but had a conversion experience in which he turned his back on that life. He literally left everything behind including his clothes and walked out of his town naked. Later on while he was praying (clothed by this time), Francis heard God tell him, “Repair my church as it is falling into ruin.”
Like many of us do with things involving God, Francis took this literally. So he began to repair a church in the countryside. Eventually he was joined by others, men and women, that wanted to live a life pleasing to God. They wanted to go back to the basics of the gospel. These little brothers and sisters started a movement that shook up the establishment.
Yet their forsaking of the things of this world, their humility, and their love for God and their fellow human (especially the down and out of society) sparked something dramatic. Though they were imperfect men and women, through the grace of God, they helped repair the Church in that day.
That is a highly simplified version of the story, but it is a beautiful story. And it is one that Christians—whether Protestant, Catholic, or Orthodox—can always learn from. After all, there are always holes in the Church that can be patched over with humility and love like Francis demonstrated so long ago.
I believe that most of us experience an internal tug-of-war between the past and the future. In The Screwtape Letters, C.S. Lewis’ titular demon supervisor advises his underling Wormwood that one of best ways to keep a human from doing good is to keep them ping-ponging between those two times that are not the present. One keeps trying to recapture or reach towards moments that are mist. It can keep a person from doing something.
The quote above resonates with me because it harnesses the past and unfinished future into a catalyst that animates our present. We remember the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus because it means something today and compels us to presently work for the Good that is already here, but also not yet. We remember the hope and pain of the past to do something that help us take some sort of step each and every day. We realize that the hope which exists within the gospel story is not yet fully realized. Many people are still being left behind and forgotten. The realization, as the theologian Metz states, puts pressure and questions on the present.