I was drawn early in the week to our
Psalms, 42 and 43. Mindful of our
celebration of Morning Prayer and my need to make this a homily, it seemed a
good choice. Except, I could not for the
life of me think of an illustration that might make these psalms make sense to
us in 21st century Nashville.
I read 8 or 9 commentaries looking for an illustration that would bring
the separation felt by the psalmist in these psalms into something with which
you and I could relate.
Separation is not something upon which we
modern Americans like to dwell. It’s
ironic, given our complacency in the destruction of neighborhoods and
communities. How many people do we have
in our own families who value on-line or “social media” relationships more than
the person sitting or standing in front of them? When we go to restaurants, do we see people
engage in intimate or vibrant conversations with one another, or are we more
likely to see people showing their devices to one another when something
catches their attention? When’s the last
time you sat on a porch catching up with a neighbor? When is the last time privacy fences were not
put up to keep the neighbors out? We
laugh, but it should be a painful laugh.
How many of us grew up in neighborhoods where, if we did something
particularly nasty or dangerous, mom and dad were going to find out? How many of our children or grandchildren,
though, have that same connection to those where they live? My guess is very few.
The psalmist in our psalms today
understands separation all too well. He
or she knows himself or herself to be cut off from God. The initial image is one of a deer craving
water when there is none in the brook.
But the psalmist moves quickly to his or her perceived separation from
God. I
pour out my soul when I think on these things: how I went with the multitude
and led them into the house of God, with the voice of praise and thanksgiving,
among those who keep holy-day. What
causes this separation? I think it
likely that it is the Exile, but it could be more personal situations which
causes the psalmist to feel cut off. He
or she looks back wistfully on Temple worship with the faithful, how the Temple
was packed and full of praise and thanksgiving.
Maybe you relate to that memory?
Maybe you remember a time when you had to be at church at 10am to get a
seat for the 10:30am service? Maybe you
remember when the choir was far larger, the number of attenders was far
greater, the songs more heavenly, and the praise more joyful? Still, we probably do not get the sense of
isolation conveyed by the psalmist.
I say I believe these psalms are written
during the Exile because the psalmist speaks of the heavy soul, speaks of the
time when he or she went to Temple with the faithful throng, speaks of a confrontation
with the enemy, but speaks of God having forgotten him or her. I have shared with you many times these first
couple years that Israel viewed possession of the Land every bit as important
as you or I view the sacrament.
Possession of the Land promised to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob was the
outward sign that God was with them, just as the eating of the Body and
drinking of the Blood is ours. There is
a sense of “cut-offedness” that can only be explained something
catastrophic. Could it be Absalom’s
rising up against his father, David?
Yes. But David knew he was the
cause of that rebellion. Could it be
David in his battles with Saul?
Possibly, but then the Temple was not built, so there was no “great old
times” upon which he could look back.
The psalmist compares this feeling to that of a deer which finds a brook
dry. How do we understand such cut
offedness? Do we?
I had prayed all week for a good
illustration. God was silent until last
night. Now, when it popped into my head,
I realized the truth of it, but I wrestled a bit with God because it was too
personal and I had not cleared it with my family. The first homiletic rule of using your family
as an illustration is Don’t! The second
rule is see rule #1. Somewhere down
around rule 10 is the “if you absolutely must violate rule #1, make sure you
ask permission of the family first.” I
did not do that, so you all will have to pretend not to know this about my
family if you ever meet them.
A few years ago, my paternal grandfather
decided to remarry. There is nothing
special in that declaration except for the fact that my grandmother had not yet
been dead a year when he made this decision.
My father had called to share the news and was upset. Even lawyers know you are not supposed to
make important decisions so early in the grieving process. Naturally, I was surprised. Grandpa had made no mention of dating other
women in our conversations since my grandmother’s death. So, like Dad, I was a bit worried about his
state of mind.
I called my aunt and uncle just to get a
sense of this woman. It turned out I had
met her a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away. It was so long ago that I could not remember
her, but I remembered her husband and Grandma and Grandpa stopping by in Dallas
for a quick visit during one of their road trips. To make a long story very short, both my aunt
and uncle were happy for Grandpa. No one
thought anything untoward had happened.
His new wife was someone who had known him for years, was financially
secure, in good health, and had a good relationship with her family. She was more active than my grandfather, and
both hoped some of her activity would rub off a bit on Grandpa.
So, I called Grandpa. When we finished pleasantries and I asked about
the new wife, he knew my dad had encouraged me to call. I reminded him that lawyers see such mistakes
all the time and that Dad would not want to see him fall into the same
trap. Besides, my grandfather is a
deacon in the Baptist church and had given this advice to others in the
past. He chuckled a bit and then began
to relate his side of this announcement.
I won’t go into all the details, but Grandpa shared how Grandma’s Alzheimer’s
had taken her from him years before she finally passed. It started slowly, to be sure, but it
progressed to the point where she did not know him. He was a strange man living in the house with
her. If he got lucky, she thought he was
one of her brothers or father back in Nova Scotia. More often than not, she thought he was his
mother in rural West Virginia. Now, my
grandfather loved his mother dearly. He
just would rather not be mistaken for her by his wife. Between fifty and sixty years of a life
together was wiped out by that horrible disease. She was his bride. She was the mother of his children. And she knew him not. Sometimes, it really crushed him to see her
recognize others. He wasn’t being small
or petty in that hurt. He just wanted
his wife to know him, to remember him, to love him.
Looking around the pews I can see that
illustration was the perfect one to explain the psalmist’s feelings today. Even as I wrestled a bit with God last night
about that illustration, I knew you all would understand it. Heck, some of you understand it in ways I
will not. We have far too many doctors
and nurses who have seen the ravaging effects of Alzheimer’s on individuals and
on their families. Right? Modern medicine can do some amazing things
for those who are sick, but not much of that amazing work does not extend to
those who love them and suffer because of their suffering. Some of you have experienced that same
cut-offedness with loved ones in your life.
Some of you have had the misfortune of losing a loved one to
Alzheimer’s. A couple have already expressed
to me a story not unlike my grandfather’s.
Like the psalmist, the loved ones have felt hurt, anger, shame,
pettiness, isolation, unloved and any number of other emotions that arise when
we are unrecognized by our own mothers, our own fathers, our own sisters, our
own brothers, our own husbands, or our own wives. How much more so should we experience those
feelings when we listen to the whispers of the Enemy that we have been
forgotten by God?
And make no mistake, those whispers
constantly bombard us. Wolves in sheep’s
clothing proclaim on television and radio that “God wants to bless all His sons
and daughters. If you are not blessed,
it’s because you lack faith.” That’s
certainly a theme getting more coverage thanks to our new President-elect. When something bad happens, the whispers
still occur. “Oh, did you hear So-and-so
has cancer? I wonder what she did to get
that?” And what of those people who have
that storm cloud constantly over their lives, who just seem never able to catch
a break? What do we say and think about
them and their relationship to God because of their circumstances?
We are now two weeks in to this season we
call Advent. Stores have been playing
Christmas music since Halloween.
Commercials are really ramping up.
“Buy a gift you cannot afford to prove to a loved one you really love
him/her.” I know, there’s no ad that
blunt, but listen to the subtle message of the ads. Our gifts show our love of those to whom we
give them. Parents must give up sleep
and large amounts of cash to wait in line and get the “in” gift for their
kids. Heaven help you if you are married
or, worse, engaged! The sign of your
affection? Debt! This season is meant to remind us of the love
that God had for each one of us, for every single person we encounter in our
daily life and work. The world, in its
rebellion, has turned it into crass opportunism and marketing. Given the message of the world, it is no wonder
so many people are depressed this time of year.
It’s no small wonder that suicide rates tick up. It’s no wonder that there is a need for
so-called blue Christmases in our churches.
Our psalmist today reminds you and me that
our circumstances do not reflect our relationship with our Father in heaven. Never.
Never. Never are you and I cut
off from Him! How do we know? If we are existing, if we have our being, He
is willing it. He is remembering each
one of us each second we are. But far
more importantly, He has already demonstrated His love of and His commitment to
each and every one of His sons and daughters.
As we celebrate Advent and look expectantly at His Incarnation and His
Second Coming, you and I are reminded that it was His love for us which led Him
to that humble manger in Bethlehem, which caused Him to walk that path that led
to Calvary, that gave Him the will to remain on that Cross even when we tempted
Him to come down, that died in our place so that we might, like Him, be
resurrected and reconciled to Him for ever!
That Gospel story is His reminder of His love for you and me and His
testimony that we are never truly separated from Him! Unlike my grandmother, who forgot my
grandfather after so many years of life together, He never forgets us, He never
stops loving us, He never even gives up on us!
In the coming weeks, infrequent attenders
or CEo’s (Christmas Easter only) will show up among us. There will be a temptation on our part to
whisper about them, to, in the words of the Pharisee, thank God that we are not
like them. The truth is, brothers and
sisters, many approach these services with enough guilt, with enough heaviness,
and with enough isolation that they do not need us to add to their
burdens. What they need, what you and I
need, like the psalmist says, is to be reminded by the congregation that God
loves them just as he loves each one of us!
Sometimes, it falls upon us as a congregation to remind those mourning
the recent death of a loved one, those diagnosed with a horrible disease, those
in broken relationships, those suffering from a lack of provision because of
job loss, and all those wo for whatever reason feel cut off from God, that He
loves them and us and that His memory, His works of power and salvation, is
alive in each one of us!
The Enemy wants nothing more than for us
to buy into the lie that we are the masters of our own domains and captains of
our own ships. The Enemy wants this
because He understands, better than many of us, that with that isolation comes
the possibility of forgetfulness, the possibility of a spiritual Alzheimer’s,
if you will. If we buy into the
seductive lie of self-determination, we can be convinced of our own
cut-offedness. It is our job,
corporately, to speak against that lie, to speak that Word of forgiveness and
grace, to speak God’s word of healing and power each time we gather, so that
those who do not know Him or those who have forgotten Him, might once again be
drawn into the arms of His saving embrace.
Why is gathering each week so important, some of you often ask me? Is it the Sacrament? Is it the preaching and teaching? Do you need to feel you have earned your
pay? There may be elements of those
thoughts in the answer, but the real answer is that corporate worship is the
only antidote to the spiritual Alzheimer’s propagated by the voice of the world
and the Enemy. It is in corporate
worship that we, and those who join us, are reminded that we are never alone,
that we are never forgotten, and that we are loved beyond measure! It is in corporate worship, brothers and
sisters, that you and I and all who join us, whether our spiritual cisterns are
full or running on empty, are given hope in the face of hopelessness, light in
the darkness that threatens to overwhelm us and those around us, and strength
to bear those crosses thrust upon us, certain that our Father in heaven will
use us to His glory!
In
Christ’s Peace,
Brian†
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