Horatio Spafford, a prominent American lawyer (and Presbyterian elder) understood extreme loss and suffering. His four-year-old son died, and he lost most of his real property in the Great Chicago Fire in 1871. A few years later, his wife and four daughters were victims of a shipwreck in the icy Atlantic Ocean – only his wife survived.
What does one do with that kind of pain? We might scream, cry, or become stark-raving mad. We might lash out in anguish over our loss and hurt. We might go destructive – tearing apart the things and people we love so they might also feel our pain. Or we might follow in the manner of Horatio Spafford. In the face of this loss and pain, Mr. Spafford penned one of the more enduring hymns of the church, and the words came out of his pain and his faith. “When peace like a river attendeth my way…” Spafford turned his mourning into praise, understanding that the Creator who loves us also hurts with us, and is still deserving of praise, even in the storm. I get it – when we hurt, we selfishly want others to hurt with us. I feel, though, that we (and our society at large) would be better served if we turned our mourning into praising. Amid the storms of this life, God still is. God never slumbers and God’s promises are sure. We do not walk alone, we walk with the Lord. As Spafford wrote in his hymn, the world and powers of evil still try to get us down. The trials still come, the hardships still happen, and the world still lets us down. The question, however, is this: are we going to let the trials define us, or are we going to praise God in the storm? We belong to God – I cannot stress that enough. We are loved by God – so loved, in fact, that God sent God’s only Son to live our life, experience humanity first-hand, and to die for our sins. I know pain comes and the world is not fair – but I also know that God is always there. I know God walks with me and with you. I know – and I hope you know – that God is worthy of praising even in the trying times. Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul! In closing, a hymn for this week – the hymn written by Horatio Spafford. When peace like a river attendeth my way, when sorrows like sea billows roll, whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say, it is well, it is well with my soul. Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come, let this blest assurance control, that Christ hath regarded my helpless estate, and hath shed his own blood for my soul. He lives: O the bliss of this glorious thought. My sin, not in part, but the whole, is nailed to the cross and I bear it no more. Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul! Lord, hasten the day when our faith shall be sight, the clouds be rolled back as a scroll, the trumpet shall sound and the Lord shall descend; even so it is well with my soul. It is well with my soul; it is well; it is well with my soul. The Michigan Department of Health and Human Services posted on social media that they will be offering monthly virtual workshops for faith and community leaders, beginning today. On looking into it, I felt very thankful that the MDHHS would take the time to address topics that are important to the community at large, and of interest to people in our community such as myself.
And then I made the number one social media mistake: I read the comments. There were, admittedly, a couple of thankful comments (mine included), thanking MDHHS for this offering. Most of the comments, however, were denouncing MDHHS for even mentioning the COVID-19 pandemic. Protesting with keystrokes any one of the number of actions taken to try to protect a seemingly ungrateful public. Making their displeasure heard by digitally crying about things that the original post was not actually about. I am begging the community at large to just stop. Stop with the negativity. Stop with the social media screaming. Remember what we were taught when we were younger: if you do not have something nice to say, then do not say anything at all. In the age of social media, it looks like this: if you do not like it or do not agree, then keep scrolling. If there is something that is truly wrong and needs addressing, then do so in a manner that might actually get results, instead of complaining on social media. When Jesus said we were to love our neighbors as ourselves, I guarantee you this is not what the Savior meant. Love your neighbor like God loves you. We cry that we want things to change, and we beg God to bring peace to our world. Then we get on social media and we start virtually screaming about or against the things we do not agree with (take your pick: COVID, politics, environmental issues, religion, the list goes on). Just stop. Try this instead. Get in the habit of speaking kindness. Start to adopt a grateful outlook on life – being thankful for the everyday things. Because here is the hard truth: our children are watching. How we act and react informs how they believe they should act and react. We want peace in our world, we want our children to have a better life than we had – we are responsible for doing our part to ensure that. We have to do better. In closing, a prayer for this week. This is a prayer of the day for the Fifth Sunday of Easter, found in the 1993 Book of Common Worship. Almighty God, your Son Jesus Christ is the way, the truth, and the life. Give us grace to love one another, to follow in the way of his commandments, and to share his risen life; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen. I offer you this passage of scripture for your consideration this week. It is Matthew 18:15-22, and this comes from the NRSV translation:
“If another member of the church sins against you, go and point out the fault when the two of you are alone. If the member listens to you, you have regained that one. But if you are not listened to, take one or two others along with you, so that every word may be confirmed by the evidence of two or three witnesses. If the member refuses to listen to them, tell it to the church; and if the offender refuses to listen even to the church, let such a one be to you as a Gentile and a tax collector. Truly I tell you, whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven. Again, truly I tell you, if two of you agree on earth about anything you ask, it will be done for you by my Father in heaven. For where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them.” Then Peter came and said to him, “Lord, if another member of the church sins against me, how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?” Jesus said to him, “Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy-seven times.” I have noticed that we really do not do this well. Someone does something to offend us, or upsets us, and instead of talking to that person about it and informing them of the error of their ways, we in turn sin against them. We gossip with friends and neighbors, we whisper at coffee about how so-and-so said such-and-such and offended us. But we very rarely talk to the person who did the offending. I would hazard a guess that the one accused of offense probably is not aware that they caused the offense. Friends, if we are going to change things in this community, in this state, in this country, in this world for the better, we must start talking to each other instead of about each other. This, quite simply, must begin at home. And I know, it gets tiresome when we must have similar conversations with the same people, over and over. As Peter said to the Lord, “How often should I forgive? Is seven times enough?” (my paraphrase). Remember that Jesus responded to him and said, “Not only seven times, but seventy-seven times” – or as other translations say, “not only seven times, but seventy times seven times.” The point is this: we keep forgiving, more times than you can count and as many times as it takes. Why? Because we have hope and faith that we, too, would continue to be forgiven. Because we were created by a God who loves us and continuously forgives us when we do wrong. In closing, a prayer for this week. This is a prayer of the day for the Fourth Sunday of Easter, found in the 1993 Book of Common Worship. Almighty God, you sent Jesus, our good shepherd, to gather us together. May we not wander from his flock, but follow wherever he leads us, listening for his voice and staying near him, until we are safely in your fold, to live with you forever; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen. April 15. In history, this day is not one that has been kind, and is marked as the anniversary of several significant tragedies.
1865: Abraham Lincoln died. 1912: The RMS Titanic sank. 2013: The Boston Marathon Bombing. 2019: Notre Dame Cathedral fire. 2020: The deadliest day (to that point) in the US due to COVID-19. As I said, not a kind day in history. If I am being honest, though, there are many days that could be labeled as “not kind,” some of them more personal than others. I think we could, each of us, name certain days out of the year that we do not anticipate with any great joy. Perhaps they are the anniversaries of deaths, injuries, or other losses. Perhaps they were once incredibly special days, but life and circumstance have made them painful reminders of what used to be. They hurt. And they hurt more when they sneak up on us, catching us unaware until we look at the calendar or our phones, and we remember. On those painful days, I get great comfort from the fact that I was created by and worship a loving God who knows my hurt. I am comforted by the belief that the bad days are not what God desires for me or the rest of God’s people. I am encouraged by the idea that through these painful times, I can learn something about myself and about the God who created me. That is key: we can learn from, and grow through, the painful experiences of our lives. Someone wiser than I am once said that if we did not experience the lows of life, then the highs would not be as wonderful. Life has taught us that this is true. If we did not know the pain and agony that come from the losses, injuries, and other unkind events of our lives, then the celebrations, successes, and joys would not be the same. Rainbows are brightest when seen against a dark, cloudy sky. The same is true of the good things in life. My friends, the best advice I have is to hold on. Hold onto what give you hope, brings you joy, and sustains you. Let the joy you know sustain you in those dark times. If you have a hard time finding or holding onto the light in your life, seek help – whether from a friend, a family member, or a professional (such as a counselor or pastor). Bad days come – this is a fact of life. There is good going on, even as we trudge through the bad – this is also a fact of life, though harder to see. Above all, hold onto this truth: you, yes YOU, are loved. Deeply, deeply loved. In closing, a prayer for this week. This one comes from Morning Prayers in the 1993 Book of Common Worship. Eternal God, you never fail to give us each day all that we ever need, and even more. Give us such joy in living and such peace in serving Christ, that we may gratefully make use of all your blessings, and joyfully seek our risen Lord in everyone we meet. In Jesus Christ we pray. Amen. Christ is risen! He is risen, indeed! Alleluia!
Almost 2,000 years ago, on that first Easter morning, the women who first found the tomb empty were not full of joy. They felt overwhelming grief at having watched the long, painful death of their teacher, friend, and Savior as he hung on the cross. They felt the anguish of being prevented from performing the rituals around preparing his body for burial due to Sabbath laws. When the sun rose that first Easter morning, their sorrow multiplied at finding the empty tomb. Thinking that someone had stolen the body of Jesus, they ran back to the disciples. They were all afraid. Shock. Disbelief. Profound grief. Fear. Not exactly the words we associate with Easter these days, are they? Truthfully, though, these are words that we associate with the loss of our own loved ones. We do not, by nature, laugh in the face of death. We mourn. We weep. We feel our loss so profoundly. And yes, sometimes we fear what our life will now be like without the one who has died. But Jesus’ body was not stolen that first Easter morning. When the women ran back to the disciples, they came back to the tomb. The risen Christ appeared to them – he who had been dead, now lives. Christ is risen! He is risen, indeed! Alleluia! While it was shocking at first, today we have the benefit of knowing that death is not the end of the story. The closing of the tomb on Friday is not the finishing seal of Jesus’ ministry. Death did not and does not have the final word. Christ is risen! He is risen, indeed! Alleluia! If death did not and does not have the final word, then that means death is not a destination, but rather, a passageway. As I know I have said in several funeral sermons, death is simply the closing of a door between this life and the next. Death is as simple as our loved one going to sleep here and waking in another room of God’s house. So yes. We should laugh. God again proves that death does not have the final word. This does not change that we will miss those who go on before us – I know better than that. There are still times that we will look for them at family gatherings, and strain to hear their voices. I would caution against remaining in the place of grief for too long, though. I know those moments come upon us, sometimes unexpectedly, and we must feel what we are feeling. But remember these words, always: we are never far from them when we are near to God. Death lost. We laugh. Christ is risen! He is risen, indeed! Alleluia! And we are saved by God through Him. Amen. In closing, a morning prayer for this week. Heavenly God, our Father, I am full of thanks for a night of rest and for this new day and all that now awaits me. I go forward toward encounters with my family and friends, work and play, and all that will bring me into contact with strangers, certain that you are with me. Lead and guide me in the way of a resurrected life. Help me to see the risen Lord today; in Jesus’ name. Amen I am going to start this out with an apology: I am sorry that it has taken me this long, and this many acts of violence against others based on the color of their skin, to get me to speak. I ask your forgiveness for that, and I pledge to do better to use my voice for the good and right.
Now down to brass tacks, as it were. As I said in my sermon on March 21, we must strive to do the right thing, and truth be told, the right thing is not always the popular thing. Such is the case today. Here is a hard truth for us to grapple with this day: we white folk are not by any means more important or righteous or whatever than our non-white siblings, and it is about time we accepted that fact. The idea that pale-skinned people, especially of English or western European descent, are superior to others is one that is rooted in history. If we look back to the history of the British Empire, we can see time and time again where white explorers and colonists went into a place (such as Africa, India, and yes, even this continent). Those explorers decided that because the native inhabitants did not look, worship, speak, or otherwise act like them, then the indigenous peoples must be heathens that needed to be corrected, converted, and made “more white.” This was done, apparently, so they might stand a chance at being accepted by society. Thus, the idea of “white supremacy” was born – those who were blessed with pale skin at their birth were seen to be superior beings. The problem is that, in 2021, there are still people who believe this is how things should be. Acts of violence carried out against people because of the color of their skin, their nationality, or their ancestry is wrong. It is sin. It is racism in the most blatant of terms. Ignoring that fact, not speaking out against this blatant racism, turning a blind eye, and “not wanting to get involved” is also sin. I do not know how we can sit back and be silent in the face of such violence and disparity, except to go back to the point I made in my sermon: we must strive to do the right thing, and the right thing is not always the popular thing. If I had to hazard a guess, I would say that we are more concerned about what our friends and family might have to say, and less concerned about what God has to say. I have seen a meme on social media several times now that says, “You will never look into the eyes of someone that God does not love.” We need to be reminded of that, and to keep it foremost in our hearts and minds. God has commanded us to love our neighbor as ourselves. That includes the neighbor that does not look like us, act like us, worship like us. God did not call us to try to make them more like us. God called us to love them as God first loved us. We need to do better, my friends. If we sit back and watch silently, then our inaction breaks God’s heart. We have the power to do good – we must exercise it. In closing, some Garth Brooks lyrics for you, to serve as our prayer and our cry. These are from the 1992 song, “We Shall Be Free.” When the last thing we notice is the color of the skin, and the first thing we look for is the beauty within; when the skies and the oceans are clean again, then we shall be free. We shall be free, we shall be free. Stand straight, walk proud, because we shall be free. When we're free to love anyone we choose, when this world's big enough for all different views, when we all can worship from our own kind of pew, then we shall be free. We shall be free, we shall be free. Have a little faith, hold out, because we shall be free. And when money talks for the very last time, and nobody walks a step behind; when there's only one race, and that's mankind, then we shall be free. How many times, after a major shift in normalcy, do we ask, “what do we do next?” When the proverbial rug is pulled from underneath us, we become consumed with questions about where we are to go, what we are to do, and what to expect. By nature, we like to know where we are going and what we are doing when we get there.
A full year and more into these COVID times, I think it is safe to say that some in our community (and really, the rest of the world) are getting a bit antsy to quit living the quarantine life. “Burn the masks!” they shout – or post boldly on social media. “Open everything up! A year is long enough for this half-living!” others loudly whisper. We are, admittedly, tired of being told to be patient. We are perhaps more tired of being told we cannot do what we want, when we want, in the manner that we want. We want our lives back. We do not want some unseen, unknown entity to tell us what to do or how to do. The problem I see is this: while we are so busy yelling about what we want, we are blinded by our own desires and are unable to see or hear those among us who sit in a different position. The parents who lost their child to this disease. The loved one in the assisted living, not seeing their families for a year. The nurses and doctors and other caregivers who are doing the best they can to keep our ailing loved ones at least comfortable as they are able. The neighbors living with chronic conditions that keep them secluded for fear of catching COVID, suffering, and dying from it. My point is this: you are absolutely entitled to your opinion, and free to express your opinions. But I would ask that you stop long enough to consider the consequences of your proclamations. The old saying “sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me” is not true – words can and do break hearts. Words can do irreparable damage. And while you are proclaiming your own beliefs, you may be unknowingly blotting out someone else’s light. If we all stopped to think before we speak, how much kinder would this world be? If we spent twice as much time listening to comprehend (and not simply to respond), how much more understanding would there be? As far as these COVID times are concerned, we need to continue being patient and vigilant. No one promised that it would magically go away after a year. I know you are tired – we are all tired. Just hold on a little longer. It will be worth it in the end. As they say in the musical Les Mis, “even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise.” In closing, a traditional Irish blessing for you. May the road rise up to meet you. May the wind be always at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face; the rains fall soft upon your fields and until we meet again, may God hold you in the palm of His hand. 525,600 minutes. One year. This week, we mark one year. One year since things were “normal.” Someone posted on social media a picture that says, “A year ago, this was our last normal week, and nobody knew it.”
One year ago, our community was rocked by the news that Bob Crist had suffered a heart attack, and later, that he had died. Concurrently, the news of the COVID-19 pandemic was starting to break, and we did not know then what would transpire in the days, weeks, and months that followed. In my own life, that week also marked 15 years since my brother’s death by suicide. The month of March, and especially this week (March 8-16) are hard for me to get through. I do not tell you that to seek sympathy, but to lay the foundation for what I am about to say next. Know that I say these things out of deep Christian love for each of you, and it is my hope that you will learn from my experiences. One year (non-leap year) equals 525,600 minutes. The truth is that not a single one of those minutes is promised to us – we do not know the day, the hour, or the minute that our name will be called to leave our life on this earth. We need to be mindful of that, especially in how we speak to one another, and how we treat others. You have heard it before: speak to others as though the words will be the last ones you will ever speak to them. This is so important. For years, I lived with the regret that I refused to call my brother when he asked me to – the last word I typed to him was “no.” We – society – have a bad habit of going through life like we will never die, that we will never lose someone close to us, that we will never have to say a hard goodbye. We act like we will always have another chance. We abuse each other with how we act and react, how we speak to one another, and the decisions we make without any regard for anyone else. Then, when a friend or loved one dies, we fill funerals homes and cemeteries with our regrets. They sound like this: I wish I had gotten to see her one last time. I wish I could have heard his voice one more time. I wish I could have told them I love them. Friends, you have the chance! This is what I want you to get from this today – you have the chance right now to tell those whom you love that you love them. You have the opportunity right now to pick up the phone and call someone to tell them how much they have meant to you. One of the most beautiful things that I witnessed in the week between Bob’s heart attack and his passing was the number of people who had taken the time that week to tell him how much he meant to them. When I talked to him the evening before he died, he was so very touched by the outpouring of love and support. He died knowing that he had made a difference – which is something that he had not realized before that week. I wish everyone could have that opportunity. My challenge to you this week is this: if someone has made a difference in your life, find a way to let them know. Use your words to spread goodness, love, thanksgiving, and grace. Speak to those in your life as though the words you say will be the last ones they hear. In closing, a prayer for you to say at the end of the day. God of freedom, I thank you for claiming me as your own and for setting me in the midst of the community of faith. Today the news was filled with stories of people who do not live according to your commandments, with grievous results. Lives are shattered as your ancient tablets of stone are broken again and again. And I struggle, too, in my own ways, to live before you and my neighbors in faithfulness, generosity, and love. As the day comes to an end, I pray for forgiveness for myself and for this weary world, confident of your grace and mercy. Send your gift of Sabbath rest, and let me sleep in peace as, over and around me, night declares to night your power and glory. In Jesus’ name I pray. Amen. Frances Ridley Havergal was born in England in December 1836 and grew up as the daughter of a Church of England clergyman, and eventually the sister of another – her father and brother were both priests in the Church of England. She lived a life devoted to God and the Gospel, and while she never sought fame nor claimed any position of prominence as a poet of the church, she did and still does occupy a special place the hearts of those who love hymns. Havergal died in 1879 at just 42 years of age, but her words still inspire us today.
One of her best-known hymns is “Take My Life and Let it Be.” Written in 1874, the words of Havergal’s poem were set to the tune “Hendon,” written by Cesar Malan in 1827. The hymn is still a staple of churches around the world, including the church I serve. The words are a petition to God, offering the very essence of the singer to holy service. “Take my life and let it be consecrated, Lord, to Thee. Take my moments and my days; let them flow in ceaseless praise.” To offer one’s life fully to God is to recognize God’s sovereignty over everything, including ourselves. From where I sit, I see that we in America have a problem with that concept. We are often married to the idea of being in charge, of wanting what we want, when we want it, how we want it. If things do not go as we want them to, we lash out against it, demanding that the situation change to suit our fancies. We expect everyone to agree with us, and we demonize those who have different points of view. We argue with each other over mundane items that really do not matter, while ignoring the problems of our society where we could make a difference. Sadly, we – as a society – are not living the lives God wants us to live. As we continue through Lent, I encourage you to set aside your own selfish desires. I encourage you to put God first in your life, and to give your every thought, word, and deed to God. See where God is leading. Spend time talking to God. When you wake in the morning, start your day with a thank you to God for waking you up, and invite God to walk with you through your day. Ask God to use you as God’s instrument of peace, healing, understanding, and love. It boils down to this: if we want things to change, we must be willing to be the instrument of change. More than that, we must be willing to invite God’s help, and accept it when God offers it. In closing, I offer you the abbreviated words of Frances Ridley Havergal’s hymn to use as a prayer. May they inspire you, bless you, and challenge you. Take my life and let it be consecrated, Lord, to thee. Take my moments and my days; let them flow in endless praise. Take my hands and let them move at the impulse of thy love. Take my feet and let them be swift and beautiful for thee. Take my voice and let me sing always, only, for my King. Take my lips and let them be filled with messages from thee. Take my silver and my gold; not a mite would I withhold. Take my intellect and use every power as thou shalt choose. Take my will and make it thine; it shall be no longer mine. Take my heart it is thine own; it shall be thy royal throne. Take my love; my Lord, I pour at thy feet its treasure store. Take myself, and I will be ever, only, all for thee. One of my favorite clips to watch on YouTube is the one of Gomer Pyle, USMC, after he loses his voice and thinks he cannot sing the song he is supposed to sing. Sitting on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, Gomer is greeted by a National Parks Service ranger, who asks why he is sitting there. He claims that he is afraid and cannot sing the song. The guard tells Gomer that at first, he felt bad for him, but now he felt bad for the people who Gomer has let down by not performing. The ranger tells Gomer that he should consider what Lincoln had to face, the decisions he had to make, and how Lincoln did not let his own fears keep him from doing what he needed to do. The ranger tells Gomer that a hero is a man who does what he has to do the best way he knows how. After some consideration and soul-searching, Gomer runs to the hall where the performance is taking place. Gomer takes the stage, even though he is nervous, and he belts out one of the most impressive versions of “The Impossible Dream” from the musical “The Man from LaMancha.” Now, maybe it is because I did not expect that voice to come out of Gomer the first time I heard it and I was absolutely blown away by it, or maybe it is because of the conversation that precedes the performance, but I find myself feeling uplifted every time that video comes up on auto play on YouTube.
I wonder, though, what is the impossible dream? What is the thing that haunts my dreams, your dreams, our dreams, that seems impossible? For some, it may be financial security, or getting an education. For others, it may be finding that “right” relationship, beginning the dream career, or praying for this pandemic to end. And for some, even some right here in our community, the impossible dream includes things that some of us take for granted: knowing exactly where the next meal is coming from, or how the bills are going to be paid, or where they will sleep at night. Remember what the ranger said to Gomer? A hero is the person who does what has to be done the best way they know how. Often the first thing we must do is take it to the Lord in prayer. Scripture tells us that nothing is impossible with God. The One who spoke the universe into existence is the same One who created you and me. God knows our dreams, our hopes, our fears, our wishes. God sees our struggles, hears of whispers, and feels our pain. God is always right there, waiting for us to call out to God. The next thing we must do is do what we can, where we can, with what we can. Perhaps that looks like donating to one of the pantries (especially personal hygiene items and paper products, like toilet paper and paper towel). Perhaps it looks like calling Love, INC and asking how you can help. Perhaps it looks like reaching out to the clothing closets and asking what they need. Perhaps it is sending a note to the staff at the hospital or at your doctor’s office. Perhaps it is saying “thank you” to the teachers, police officers, firefighters, and paramedics you know. Maybe our impossible dreams are not as impossible as we think. Perhaps all we have to do is take the first step. In closing, a prayer for you to say each day of this week. May your life reflect the One who gives life and light. God of ancient covenants, your steadfast love and faithfulness are still new every morning. I thank you that I can begin this day in the confidence of your abiding love and unending mercy. Help me to treat others – family, friends, coworkers, classmates, and even strangers – with love and mercy in our encounters today. When I disappoint or am discordant, help me to show love to others. Open my eyes to the places, people, and circumstances in which your kingdom has come near. I pray in the name of your beloved Son, Jesus Christ, my Savior. Amen. |
About these articles
From January through August 2021, I wrote an occasional column for the Gratiot County Herald. Here are a few of those columns. Enjoy!
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