I was broken-hearted to learn this week that my next door neighbor had been in the hospital for over a week. I was sad that he had been hospitalized...but, even more so that I hadn't known he was there. I would have gone for a visit, sent flowers, checked on his wife -- something.
I love my home. But my neighbors have made my life such a joy. They are thoughtful and helpful and friendly -- really special people. I am so grateful for them.
I was reminded of something important. There is always more going on than we know -- even with those nearby.
When I served a local church, I always knew every Sunday that people were sitting next to people who had struggles/challenges that were not yet public. At times, I cringed when I heard careless, casual comments that cut others to the core. Those comments -- which people often thought harmless, made it harder for people to share their hearts and deep struggles.
Pastors are often advised to speak in conversations as if everyone in their congregation is related. Many times, most people are related! But, even if they are not, it is so wise to speak thoughtfully! We never know the burdens people are carrying on the inside.
How much more loving we might be--better neighbors and better Christians-- if we remember that there is so much more going on in the lives of those around us than what we see from the outside.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Friday, September 23, 2011
I Love Lucy
Anyone who has a wonderful mother has a lifelong blessing. I am one of those people. Every day, I thank God for my remarkable mother, Rosalie DeYoung Shepherd.
Not only did I have the most amazing, loving mother. My mother’s lifelong best friend doubled the blessing. Eighty-nine years ago today, the gift of another wonderful woman came into the world. Today, I am thanking God for my “second mother”, Lucy Brooks.
Lucy and her husband, Irvin were members of Cooper Memorial Methodist Church when my father was appointed to be the pastor there in 1949. Their first child, Terry, was born on Christmas day of 1949. I was the firstborn in my family 6 months later. The four of them became fast friends. After my parents moved from Louisville, the friendship continued, deepened and grew. It was no ordinary friendship.
Every single week, my mother wrote a letter to Lucy about our family. Every week, Lucy wrote my mother a letter about the Brooks family. Oh how I have wished that they saved those letters! That would be the complete, unabridged history of our families.
Even though the firstborns have grown up in different geographical places since we were 2 years old, there was a common denominator in the love Lucy had for both of us. Every year on May 28 –every single year—I have had a birthday card from Lucy. “Love you much” has been her signature “sign off” to cards and phone calls and visits.
When my mother had surgeries in the two years before her death, Lucy was on my “first-to-call” list along with mother’s blood sisters. She and my mother were sisters of the heart. They had a special gift of loving each other…and loving everyone in their lives.
Lucy has given me that precious gift of unconditional love that is so rare for humans but so typical of God. Throughout my life, I have always known that Lucy loved me…loved me unconditionally. Could I have disappointed her? Yes, I’m sure that was possible. She has very strong principles. Lucy was a teacher and she spent her life building up the character of children in the classroom and everyone she knew. But I have had the treasured experience of knowing that nothing – absolutely nothing—would keep her from loving me. Her husband, children, grandchildren, friends who live closer to her experienced it even more. That’s a God-love. And an indescribable blessing.
Lucy is 89 today. I don’t need a special occasion to be thankful for her life. But on this day of her birth, I am especially grateful. “I Love Lucy” is more than a funny TV show of my childhood. It is the affirmation of my heart. Love you much, Lucy. More than you will ever know, your love has made a difference in my life.
Not only did I have the most amazing, loving mother. My mother’s lifelong best friend doubled the blessing. Eighty-nine years ago today, the gift of another wonderful woman came into the world. Today, I am thanking God for my “second mother”, Lucy Brooks.
Lucy and her husband, Irvin were members of Cooper Memorial Methodist Church when my father was appointed to be the pastor there in 1949. Their first child, Terry, was born on Christmas day of 1949. I was the firstborn in my family 6 months later. The four of them became fast friends. After my parents moved from Louisville, the friendship continued, deepened and grew. It was no ordinary friendship.
Every single week, my mother wrote a letter to Lucy about our family. Every week, Lucy wrote my mother a letter about the Brooks family. Oh how I have wished that they saved those letters! That would be the complete, unabridged history of our families.
Even though the firstborns have grown up in different geographical places since we were 2 years old, there was a common denominator in the love Lucy had for both of us. Every year on May 28 –every single year—I have had a birthday card from Lucy. “Love you much” has been her signature “sign off” to cards and phone calls and visits.
When my mother had surgeries in the two years before her death, Lucy was on my “first-to-call” list along with mother’s blood sisters. She and my mother were sisters of the heart. They had a special gift of loving each other…and loving everyone in their lives.
Lucy has given me that precious gift of unconditional love that is so rare for humans but so typical of God. Throughout my life, I have always known that Lucy loved me…loved me unconditionally. Could I have disappointed her? Yes, I’m sure that was possible. She has very strong principles. Lucy was a teacher and she spent her life building up the character of children in the classroom and everyone she knew. But I have had the treasured experience of knowing that nothing – absolutely nothing—would keep her from loving me. Her husband, children, grandchildren, friends who live closer to her experienced it even more. That’s a God-love. And an indescribable blessing.
Lucy is 89 today. I don’t need a special occasion to be thankful for her life. But on this day of her birth, I am especially grateful. “I Love Lucy” is more than a funny TV show of my childhood. It is the affirmation of my heart. Love you much, Lucy. More than you will ever know, your love has made a difference in my life.
Monday, September 19, 2011
Thanking God for the gift of grandchildren!
There are so many reasons in life to be discouraged. That's more true in this ministry than any other of my life.Balance is precious...and nothing is a more powerful balancer than the pure love of grandchildren. And no one has more adorable grandchildren than I do!
The world is so full of things to be discouraged about. No matter what the job, negativity is everywhere. God has given us an abundance of things to be thankful for...but those are not the things that ordinarily make the headlines to draw our attention. The dramas of work are often penetrated by negative situations and people. So I am not only thanking God for the extraordinary gifts of unconditional love....and letting that love give fresh eyes for the less obvious -- but richly present positive balances God builds into every day.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Living Psalm 23
After church today, a man told me he was very impressed that I could recite Psalm 23 without reading it. Being able to say the 23rd Psalm isn’t the fruit of laborious memorization. I’ve read it so many times I can’t help but know it by heart.
I’ve not just read the 23rd Psalm. I’ve lived it. This morning, I shared with the congregation one experience of living Psalm 23:5,6 in one appointment. A man in my congregation was not happy about having a female preacher. It wasn’t personal because he was mad about it before ever meeting me. But he didn’t stop with grousing about having a woman as a preacher. The better things went in the ministry of the church, the madder he got. He did everything he could to stir up criticism and opposition to me. He told lies about me and constantly looked for something to criticize. He sat in worship arms crossed on his chest with a frozen scowl on his face every Sunday. And, just as often, I lived the truth and beauty of the psalmist’s affirmation: “Thou prepares a table before me in the presence of mine enemies. Thou anointest my head with oil. My cup runneth over.” Each Sunday, God gave me the gift of a message, the high calling of the ministry and a full cup of love and assurance.
Before I left the lunch after worship today, one man stopped me and asked me if that man in my sermon ever changed his mind. Although my pastoral life is filled with precious experiences where people (male and female) DID change their mind, this isn’t one of them. “No,” I said. “As far as I know, he never did stop opposing me.”
But, quickly, I realized that answer was incomplete. “The important thing is that his hard heart didn’t harden mine.” Was it hard to face the constant undermining, the relentless negative presence? Yes. Only God knows how deeply that hurt me. But God’s provisions were deeper. The ugliness of the other person didn’t turn into ugliness in my own heart. Even though he did not live up to his Christian commitment or his membership vows, I did not fail to extend Christ’s love to him or pray for him. The real danger of evil, as I see it, is that, in their pain, the patient, innocent wounded become like the very evil that hurt them.
This is precisely where the grace of God transforms. “Love your enemies”, Jesus teaches. “Pray for those who despitefully use you.” And, in excruciating pain, Jesus lived what he taught: “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” Just before He was about to be crucified, Jesus told his disciples, “In the world you will have tribulation, but do not be afraid. I have overcome the world.” When the resurrected Christ found disciples who had deserted and denied him, his first words were “Peace be with you.” Jesus lived out of the great resources of God’s love.
God’s Word doesn’t tell us that we will be exempt from the valley of the shadow of death or the presence of enemies. The consistent witness of Scripture is that the resources of faith are stronger than the harsh realities of the world. Are the disciples in a storm? Yes. But Jesus is with them. Are there enemies? Yes. But God prepares a table. Is there a valley of deepest darkness? Yes. But God’s presence fortifies against all fear. Over and over, God’s people are invited to turn to provisions of faith in the face of painful realities.
If the 9/11 remembrance brings forward any challenge to Christians, it is the teaching of Jesus to love our enemies. If the pain of 9/11 brings a danger, it is to let the hatred of others make us haters, too. If the national tragedy gives us a spiritual challenge, it is to be more compassionate than cynical, to be more faithful than fearful – to live out of the rich resources God offers instead of living out of the shallow responses of wounded hearts. “I will fear no evil…” Ancient words, but a great testimony for ever-new challenges in today’s world.
I’ve not just read the 23rd Psalm. I’ve lived it. This morning, I shared with the congregation one experience of living Psalm 23:5,6 in one appointment. A man in my congregation was not happy about having a female preacher. It wasn’t personal because he was mad about it before ever meeting me. But he didn’t stop with grousing about having a woman as a preacher. The better things went in the ministry of the church, the madder he got. He did everything he could to stir up criticism and opposition to me. He told lies about me and constantly looked for something to criticize. He sat in worship arms crossed on his chest with a frozen scowl on his face every Sunday. And, just as often, I lived the truth and beauty of the psalmist’s affirmation: “Thou prepares a table before me in the presence of mine enemies. Thou anointest my head with oil. My cup runneth over.” Each Sunday, God gave me the gift of a message, the high calling of the ministry and a full cup of love and assurance.
Before I left the lunch after worship today, one man stopped me and asked me if that man in my sermon ever changed his mind. Although my pastoral life is filled with precious experiences where people (male and female) DID change their mind, this isn’t one of them. “No,” I said. “As far as I know, he never did stop opposing me.”
But, quickly, I realized that answer was incomplete. “The important thing is that his hard heart didn’t harden mine.” Was it hard to face the constant undermining, the relentless negative presence? Yes. Only God knows how deeply that hurt me. But God’s provisions were deeper. The ugliness of the other person didn’t turn into ugliness in my own heart. Even though he did not live up to his Christian commitment or his membership vows, I did not fail to extend Christ’s love to him or pray for him. The real danger of evil, as I see it, is that, in their pain, the patient, innocent wounded become like the very evil that hurt them.
This is precisely where the grace of God transforms. “Love your enemies”, Jesus teaches. “Pray for those who despitefully use you.” And, in excruciating pain, Jesus lived what he taught: “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” Just before He was about to be crucified, Jesus told his disciples, “In the world you will have tribulation, but do not be afraid. I have overcome the world.” When the resurrected Christ found disciples who had deserted and denied him, his first words were “Peace be with you.” Jesus lived out of the great resources of God’s love.
God’s Word doesn’t tell us that we will be exempt from the valley of the shadow of death or the presence of enemies. The consistent witness of Scripture is that the resources of faith are stronger than the harsh realities of the world. Are the disciples in a storm? Yes. But Jesus is with them. Are there enemies? Yes. But God prepares a table. Is there a valley of deepest darkness? Yes. But God’s presence fortifies against all fear. Over and over, God’s people are invited to turn to provisions of faith in the face of painful realities.
If the 9/11 remembrance brings forward any challenge to Christians, it is the teaching of Jesus to love our enemies. If the pain of 9/11 brings a danger, it is to let the hatred of others make us haters, too. If the national tragedy gives us a spiritual challenge, it is to be more compassionate than cynical, to be more faithful than fearful – to live out of the rich resources God offers instead of living out of the shallow responses of wounded hearts. “I will fear no evil…” Ancient words, but a great testimony for ever-new challenges in today’s world.
Friday, September 9, 2011
I will fear no evil...
Before the intensified attention to 9/11, I had already been feeling the vulnerability of life. Everyone knows in the back of their minds that life is short, that the world is dangerous and unpredictable, that things can dramatically change in a heartbeat. We don’t usually dwell on these realities. By the nature of our work, pastors are acutely aware of these stark truths about life.
Most people have had the experience when the reminders of life’s fragility ganged up in the calendar and the heart. That’s what has been happening to me in the past couple of weeks: the sudden, unexpected death of a dear friend just my age, the news of the recurrence of cancer with another friend, the death of a like-my-mother precious presence in life all within a week. So I didn’t need all the stories of 9/11 to remember that we never know what a day will bring. I don’t need the talk of 9/11 to remember that evil is real and that good people—innocent people—suffer in this fallen world. I don’t need news stories to tell me that life can turn upside-down in a heartbeat. Those realities did not (or end) on September 11, 2001.
Exactly at this point of painful reality, the rich resources of faith makes a difference. The 9/11 experiences of life – those gut-wrenching, life-changing, cut-to-the-core experiences—send us frantically scrambling for a sure foundation. And, no matter what has happened, the dependable, strong, redemptive love of God is always there. “I will fear no evil” we all learned to recite from the beloved 23rd Psalm “for thou art with me.” It’s in the 9/11 times, the true, dependable, unstoppable source of security emerges. We see how much we have trusted in things that will pass away. And, at our best, we put our pain to the good work of establishing/re-establishing an anchor of life that will never fail us or let us down: the love of God.
As with every tragedy, the most important thing is not the shock of what happened. The defining dynamic is what we do with the tragedies that life brings. On September 11 (and every anniversary day of other tragedies), some will be bitter, angry, depressed or crippled with sorrow. I understand. No one should condemn others for the deep emotions of loss. At some point—some life-giving turn—the bigger question emerges: What am I going to do with this unspeakable tragedy that has happened? That’s the defining question. Will the tragedy define life? Or will the tragedy of life turn us to the unfailing resources of God?
In a devotional book I have been reading, Trusting God for Everything: Psalm 23 by Jan Johnson, she points out that the verse I have always loved “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…” (Psalm 23:4) literally means “Yea though I walk through the valley of deepest darkness…” That includes all of life’s bitterest experiences. Followed by the great affirmation I invite us all to make: I will fear no evil; for thou art with me. Evil is present in the world, but it is not feared. What a great witness our faith has to offer to our anxious, insecure, dangerous world!
Looking back across the last 10 years, I am looking at life with this question: How has 9/11 (our national tragedy or your personal 9/11 experiences) shaped me? Am I more cynical, bitter, angry, insecure, resentful, closed to others or God? Or am more trusting in God, more loving, more forgiving, more merciful, more peaceful and committed to living in peace with others? Does tragedy in life shape me or, by God’s grace, am I transformed?
Long ago, I made it a daily practice to read Romans 12. This weekend, as our nation walks through the 10th anniversary of 9/11, I am adding a daily text-- the 23rd Psalm-- at the beginning and the close of the day. The only way through the valley of deepest darknesses...the only way to fear no evil is through the security greater than life--the security of God's dependable love.
Most people have had the experience when the reminders of life’s fragility ganged up in the calendar and the heart. That’s what has been happening to me in the past couple of weeks: the sudden, unexpected death of a dear friend just my age, the news of the recurrence of cancer with another friend, the death of a like-my-mother precious presence in life all within a week. So I didn’t need all the stories of 9/11 to remember that we never know what a day will bring. I don’t need the talk of 9/11 to remember that evil is real and that good people—innocent people—suffer in this fallen world. I don’t need news stories to tell me that life can turn upside-down in a heartbeat. Those realities did not (or end) on September 11, 2001.
Exactly at this point of painful reality, the rich resources of faith makes a difference. The 9/11 experiences of life – those gut-wrenching, life-changing, cut-to-the-core experiences—send us frantically scrambling for a sure foundation. And, no matter what has happened, the dependable, strong, redemptive love of God is always there. “I will fear no evil” we all learned to recite from the beloved 23rd Psalm “for thou art with me.” It’s in the 9/11 times, the true, dependable, unstoppable source of security emerges. We see how much we have trusted in things that will pass away. And, at our best, we put our pain to the good work of establishing/re-establishing an anchor of life that will never fail us or let us down: the love of God.
As with every tragedy, the most important thing is not the shock of what happened. The defining dynamic is what we do with the tragedies that life brings. On September 11 (and every anniversary day of other tragedies), some will be bitter, angry, depressed or crippled with sorrow. I understand. No one should condemn others for the deep emotions of loss. At some point—some life-giving turn—the bigger question emerges: What am I going to do with this unspeakable tragedy that has happened? That’s the defining question. Will the tragedy define life? Or will the tragedy of life turn us to the unfailing resources of God?
In a devotional book I have been reading, Trusting God for Everything: Psalm 23 by Jan Johnson, she points out that the verse I have always loved “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…” (Psalm 23:4) literally means “Yea though I walk through the valley of deepest darkness…” That includes all of life’s bitterest experiences. Followed by the great affirmation I invite us all to make: I will fear no evil; for thou art with me. Evil is present in the world, but it is not feared. What a great witness our faith has to offer to our anxious, insecure, dangerous world!
Looking back across the last 10 years, I am looking at life with this question: How has 9/11 (our national tragedy or your personal 9/11 experiences) shaped me? Am I more cynical, bitter, angry, insecure, resentful, closed to others or God? Or am more trusting in God, more loving, more forgiving, more merciful, more peaceful and committed to living in peace with others? Does tragedy in life shape me or, by God’s grace, am I transformed?
Long ago, I made it a daily practice to read Romans 12. This weekend, as our nation walks through the 10th anniversary of 9/11, I am adding a daily text-- the 23rd Psalm-- at the beginning and the close of the day. The only way through the valley of deepest darknesses...the only way to fear no evil is through the security greater than life--the security of God's dependable love.
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