Sing A New Song

Sing A New Song   <-- Audio File - Sermon based upon Psalm 98

Good morning. It’s wonderful to be here with you again in this sacred place for worship. So to start off, I hope you’ll be patient with me because I want to share a few questions that I begin with each and every time I prepare for worship.

You see, when I sit down to begin, I ask God in prayer what do we hope to get out of this time together? What do we hope to give to this time? What does God want us to experience? And how can we offer worship to God that is pleasing? But the question that I begin the whole process with, the question that holds my center of attention is why are we here?

Now I’m not trying to sound simplistic or sarcastic though it might sound that way. I earnestly know that we all have reasons for coming to worship. I’m here because you invited me and I felt called to be here. Some of you are here for the community or the spiritual growth or the beautiful music. Maybe you’ve been members here your whole life. Maybe this was the church home you found later in life. The reasons that bring us here to this church are endless. But I am specifically talking about worship. Why are we here?

I start with the question “why are we here” to keep me grounded in the belief that ALL worship is about God. We are here because God invited us. We are here because we responded to that invitation. We are here to worship God.

The bible repeatedly reminds us that we are to worship God and only God. Worship is always God centered in the bible. And if you look into the Presbyterian constitution, meaning The Confessions and the Book of Order, you’ll find that worship is held in the highest esteem there too. We are very intentional about reminding ourselves that worship is about God lest we fall into the idolatry of worshiping the church as an institution. Phrases like “The church gathers to praise God” and “God alone is to be adored and worshipped” echo throughout Presbyterian doctrine & governance.

This leads me back to our scripture reading for today that Cindy read from the book of Psalms.

“O sing to the Lord a new song, for he has done marvelous things. His right hand and his holy arm have gotten him victory… He has remembered his steadfast love and faithfulness… All the ends of the earth have seen the victory of our God.”

It’s an amazing song of praise where David invites us to the space of worship. David knows that we are singing to God because God has already come before us and prepared a way. God is here now inviting our relationship. And God’s victory that he writes of is an ultimate gift. It’s seen throughout the entire history of faith. And it’s also in the everyday moments of blessing. And it’s also in the things yet unseen. God has been faithful and loving to us so we respond in grateful worship.

Now I feel the need to pause here and say something about this word “victory.” If you look at different translations of the bible, some translate it as victory while others use the word salvation. The original Hebrew word is a very nuanced word that is wrapped up in concepts of wholeness and integrity and atonement. It’s a word that describes an act that only God can do… make things as they should be. So when I said that the history of faith and our everyday lives reveal God’s victory, I’m talking about simple things like the experience of blessing. But I’m also talking about complex things like justice and miracles and the unexplainable mysteries around us. And I’m also talking about faith in the eternal promises of God. Victory is God’s work of creation in and amongst us, that comes before us and goes after us. And it’s in the presence of that victory that David stands in awe and tells us to turn our eyes toward the origin of that victory, God.

David doesn’t just stop at the invitation though. He tells us a good bit about what worship should be too.

“Make a joyful noise to the Lord, all the earth; break forth into joyous song and sing praises. Sing praises to the Lord with the lyre, with the lyre and the sound of melody. With trumpets and the sound of the horn make a joyful noise before the King, the Lord.”

This image has always struck me because it seems so energetic compared to the stereotype of traditional worship. Some people call us the “frozen chosen” and other names to point to our “decently and in order” way of doing even worship. If you look at your bulletin for this service, it’s divided into these sections as if there was a particular formula for worship.

Well, in some ways, there is. The Book of Order offers guidance on a pathway to “ORDER” worship. It draws from our biblical and faith heritage to offer us a pathway to, yet again, stay focused on God.

But some people say, “well that’s just boring.” And you know what I say back? Yes, it could be but it should NEVER be. Friends, we are invited to sing a new song! Entering worship is about entering anew with a different experience of God from the last time we were here. So even though I’ve been through the lectionary many times in my life, the sermons are different or at least I hear them differently. The song selections change and have new meaning to me. I and those around me have entered the space of worship differently than the last time we were here.

So what does it mean to sing to the Lord a new song in this time and place? Well, the scripture describes this new song as joyous and gushing forth. To me, this seems like the invitation to throw off the cloak of our fears and inhibitions and let out our joy and light because it is God’s light beaming forth. The psalmist also tells us to use voice and instruments to make a melody. Now does that mean that worship should only be music and it should be only joyous? No, worship is not only song and there are most definitely times such as funerals when our worship is much more somber. Instead, the psalmist is telling us to do what will be meaningful and remembered.

You may ask, “Pastor Lavender, how did you get that from a passage that talks about making a joyful noise with instruments and song of praises?” So please bear with me and I’ll explain where I got that. Many of you may know that in the time when David was writing these Psalms, most people couldn’t read and writing tools were very expensive and scarce. So whether it was in gatherings of faith and worship or in a public square for entertainment, song was used as a storytelling device. David wrote in his poetic style because it was to be put to song. And if you read the bible in Hebrew, much of it has a melodious verse structure or repeating sounds that made it easier to sing… AND also easier to remember.

Think about it. When was the last time you had a famous speech stuck in your head? You never hear someone say, “Gosh, the Gettysburg address has just been stuck in my head all day long!” It just doesn’t happen! But very frequently, we all have these moments where we get songs stuck in our heads.

A song that tells a good story and has a good melody stays with us. And that’s what David wanted for people. David invited us to pour out our worship to God in a way that had beauty and meaning and would remain with us as a continuous reminder of the gift and presence of God.

So what does that mean today? Why are we here? How are we singing a new song? Well, this morning we are gathering in what’s called a traditional worship service because it’s a meaningful expression of our faith and hopefully we’ll experience God’s continued presence with us after it’s finished. We all have different preferences on what kinds of worship experiences feel more authentic to us. And what those things are sometimes changes with time.

For example, I know a woman who as a youth loved contemporary style worship services because the music connected more with her teenage life of constant change but as a young adult she longed for familiarity and a home so traditional worship became more meaningful. I know that sounds like I’m saying that choosing worship was about feeding her but I’m not. It’s about where she experienced God in her life. God was present with her in her time of flux and transition so for her to sing a new song at as a youth meant worship that spoke of how dynamic and powerful God is. And when she longed for stability God was guiding her in that too. So her expression of worship at that time felt more authentic in a setting that expressed her experience of God’s every presence and sovereignty. Personally, I go through periods of time when I crave contemplative worship that is meditative and reflects a calmness. I crave this because it is where I am in life and God is there too.

The people in the bible were much the same way. At times they brought God offering in the form of animal sacrifice to represent their trust that in such an unstable land, they knew God would provide. Other times they offered worship in the form of dance like Merriam’s dance of joy and gratitude after Moses led them out of Egypt. Still other times it was song and other times it was in the form of alters of remembrance. Regardless of when it was, the worship reflected their experience of God’s works in and around them. It reflected what was meaningful and memorable. It was authentic.

Sing to the Lord a new song! We have entered this space to worship God and our private inner expressions as well as our collective shared expressions are about reflecting where God has been, where God is, and our faith that God shall always be. So when we recognize that we like the music, that tells us about a way God speaks to us. And when we like to come to worship with our loved ones, it tells us about God’s work in community. And when we experience a sense of calling when a mission project is announced, it tells us that God has a future for us. And when we feel unable to connect with a particular element of worship it tells us about just how diverse and different our experiences of God are… which is also holy.

You see the sacred space and time of worship comes in all shapes and sizes. Presbyterians may have a documented formula for worship but it is not meant to limit worship. It is meant to keep us centered on what God is doing and what it means in our individual and collective lives as people of faith. Singing a new song is as much about how much we pay attention to God’s moving in and amongst us as it is about the literal format of worship.

Which brings me to the final part of the psalm…

“Let the sea roar, and all that fills it; the world and those who live in it. Let the floods clap their hands; let the hills sing together for joy at the presence of the Lord, for he is coming to judge the earth. He will judge the world with righteousness, and the peoples with equity.”

Now before I go too far into what this passage might mean to us, I want to look at the word “judge.” That’s a word that makes some us uncomfortable because we have bad experiences with others judging us. For some, the word brings comfort because it means justice. But much like the word victory from earlier, it is not a simple word at all. In this passage, David speaks of God coming to judge something that has already been made whole by God.

So you may ask why would God do that? When the bible talks about God judging and people judging it means two different things. People are repeatedly shown to be fallible in their judgment. Consider the parables of Jesus. They tell us of all kinds of ways that people foolishly assess what should be done or how we make assessments based only on the little picture. God’s judgment, however, is always expressed in a big picture context in the bible. Big picture, as in a way that we in our limited selves could never see. It is about seeing fully. And seeing fully goes along with this victory. God’s victory is bigger than our small selves can fully appreciate and so it takes God’s presence to also see fully and appreciate that splendor. We only catch glimpses of it’s wonder, but God takes in all of it.

So what does this have to do with our worship? Well, it has to do with us seeing more glimpses of God’s great works. The scripture tells us of all creation singing praises to God. And if we pay attention, we can hear, experience, and worship in those glimpses of God’s victory.

Worship is most definitely what we do together as a body of believers. But it also happens outside these walls. The scripture tells us of the singing mountains and clapping waters. Who among us has not felt God’s presence when sitting next to water listening to the waves rush in and out? How could anyone miss God’s might works when we lift our eyes to the mountains? Creation shouts with praises to God and when we honor God’s victory in creation we worship God too.

So in practical ways, what does that mean to us? Well, we most definitely worship God in our admiration of creation. But like I said, when we honor God’s victory we worship God. So whether we realize it or not, much of our life is an act of worship and truly holy. Consider our second scripture reading from today that talk of the gifts God has given us. We have different gifts, according to the grace given us. If a yours is prophesying, then bring the word. If it is serving, then serve; if it is teaching, then teach; if it is encouraging, be an encourager.

Sisters and brothers, this is a holy time of worship where I pray we sing a new song. But our lives are holy times of worship as well. When we sit and have a cup of coffee with a struggling friend offering the compassion God has cultivated in us, we are being good stewards of that victory in us and our sharing is an act of worship. When take the skills we have and apply them to our career, we are honoring the way God made us thus making our work a holy act of worship. When we use the cheerfulness in our heart to offer a smile of encouragement, that is a sacred moment. When we bring who we are, our true selves, to each present moment, we celebrate God’s good works are on holy ground.

Sisters and brothers, worship is about God, it is about intentionality, and it is about singing a new song with each and every moment. Amen

Grieving in a War Zone

I frequently have interactions that leave me with looming questions.  This is my recolection and the remaining questions from one such incident:

I was rounding floors and was on 5W where I was told a 14yr old male was inpatient from surgery to set a compound fracture tibia. The nurse relayed that he was speaking in belligerent ways to all staff and that he had no family with him. It was almost 1am and the patient was still up watching TV.

I knocked and entered the room when he acknowledged me. There I met KM who is African American and appears older than his age. He said in a gruff tone, “what do you want?” I said, “My name is Lavender and I’m a chaplain here. I saw you were up and thought I’d say hi since I don’t get to see too many folks awake at this time of night.” He replied, “yeah, I don’t sleep much and I don’t trust these b******. Anyway, what do you want?” I said, “I don’t really want anything. But like I said, I saw you were up and thought I’d check in. Wanna play a game or watch a movie?”

From that point, KM and I had a conversation about card games. He told me he was great at poker and that I’d never be able to read if he was bluffing. He started sharing stories of beating other people. I got a deck of cards and we played dealer’s choice. For the first 20 min, he continued with grandiose stories of things he had won playing poker and said he wanted to play professionally. At some point I asked how he learned to play.

At this point his manner changed into something quieter but he quickly rebounded and told me about his older brother who had been shot and killed. Though not said directly, the context clues told me it was gang related. His stories of his brother were full of the same profanity, grandiosity, and bravado he had been exhibiting. I gathered that his brother was 3 years older and was killed last year. I dropped the subject for a while sensing that he didn’t want to go further than surface details.

After a while I noticed him staring at my badge. He asked, “What’s a chaplain?” I went into my normal explanation of a chaplain being kind of like a minister in a church but instead of working at a church, I only work here. And I added that I like to spend time with all kinds of people no matter what they believe because it’s important to not be alone when you’re sick.

At this he sat up straighter in bed and apologized for his profanity. I told him I didn’t care but then asked him why he would apologize to me but not the nurses who were trying to take care of him. He said, “those b****** don’t care about me. They just want to get my black a** outta here so I can be killed like everyone else.”

I said, “what makes you think that?” He replied, “Are you stupid? That’s how everybody is. Cops, teachers, everybody. My brother didn’t die because he was in a gang. He died because none of you care!”

I sat silently looking into his angry eyes and noticing his heavy breathing for what felt like an eternity though it was only about 10 seconds. I said, “KM, would it be okay if I don’t believe everyone feels that way? I don’t want to sound like I’m arguing with you because it sounds like you feel that way for a reason.”

He said, “of course you don’t think that.” I said, “what do you mean?” He replied, “because of God and s***. You aren’t supposed to.” I said, “no one is supposed to feel that way. No one should want someone else dead.” When I said this, I had a fearful feeling I overstepped. He looked at me angrily and said, “I want those f****** that killed DM dead!” I said, “If it were me, I would too but wanting something because I’m upset and actually doing it aren’t the same.”

At this point he starts telling me about all the people that have his back. There’s something about him that tells me he really doesn’t like violence but I can’t figure out what to say about it. He shared the story of how he broke his leg jumping from something to chase someone away. He said, “my brother would have done the same thing” as he concluded the story. I said, “It’s real important to me to remember people that are dead that are still part of me. Sounds like you work hard to remember your brother. How would he want you to carry him on?”

He showed me his tattoo honoring his brother. He then told me about how his brother never wanted him be in the gang. He said, “DM used to say I just needed to play basketball and take care of momma.”

He continued to talk a while about how he doesn’t have a choice to be in the gang now and how he likes having friends, especially ones that knew his brother. I found myself thinking that I really had nothing to offer the kid. Personally, I don’t think he stands a chance of getting out of the gang alive and I know exactly why he thinks most white people want him dead. Yet, he’s got a really sensitive inside that I catch glimpses of when he gets close to his pain about DM.

Finally I said, “I know there are lots of things you can’t change and I’m not going to pretend like you can. But what is one simple thing that would make your life better?” Without any hesitation, he said, “not hate so much.” I unintentionally chuckled and said, “I said a ‘simple thing’” and he laughed too.

This was a turning point in our conversation. KM spoke with insight into how much he misses DM and how doing what his brother did is a way of keeping DM with him. He said he never felt angry and hateful prior to the murder.

I reminded him of what I said earlier about carrying dead people with me as a way of honoring them and loving them. I asked him what ways he wanted to show his brother honor. We talked about it for a while. The things he wanted to do include continuing to play basketball, staying in the gang, getting another tattoo, and writing DM’s name on some wall. I also asked him if there were parts in addition to the hate he wanted to let go of. He was less clear about this but he was clear that he wanted to smoke pot but never wanted to use drugs like his momma does. I think the unspoken dynamic is that she uses to mask feelings of sorrow. So this was his way of saying he wanted to let go of the sorrow too.

Our conversation started to wind down and I could tell it was time to go. I told him I was really glad to meet him and even more honored that he and I had such a great talk. We had a mildly awkward goodbye with the unspoken piece being that we would never see each other again.

This 2+ hour conversation happened as we played poker. Though many themes exist including racism, I focused on and have continued to reflect upon how to help someone grieve when they don’t have the space or safety to do that in a textbook manner.
• I place a lot of trust in my intuition in such moments. What are some dangers I might miss if I focus too much on his underlying gentleness?
• Is it ethical for me to move him toward grief work when he may need the anger/pain as a mode of survival?
• What other resources could I have offered?
• I wish I had helped him name sorrow. How else could I have helped him continue healthy grieving?

Along the Way

Along the Way <-- Audio File - Sermon based upon Psalm 107:1-9, 43

Good morning. It’s an honor to be back with you again to worship. For those of you that weren’t here on my previous visits, my name is Lavender Kelley and I’m a chaplain at Children’s Memorial Hospital in Chicago. I’m a graduate of Louisville Seminary and have been a chaplain in the 4 years since then. Actually, some of your youth recently met Adam Fischer, a classmate of mine from seminary. He is now at Harvey Brown Pres in Louisville, the host church for the youth mission trip.

As a chaplain and cancer survivor, I’m very involved in volunteering for causes near and dear to me. Some of you may recognize that I have more hair than I did last time I was here because I had shaved my head in a fundraising event one month prior to that. Anyway, I mostly just want you to know that I’m grateful to spend some more time with you in this holy time of worship.

Our scripture text that John read for you this morning is from Psalm 107. The lectionary guide for this week chose only to include verses 1-9 & 43. That means you heard the introduction, 1 story illustration, and the benediction. But if we were to read the whole psalm, what we would see might seem more like a full sermon. Because the whole psalm contains an introduction, 4 very similar sermon illustrations, a conclusion, and a benediction.

This Psalm focuses on God’s “steadfast love” or “hesed” as it is read in Hebrew. Scholars frequently refer to this as the model psalm of God’s “steadfast love.” They say this because the psalm in its entirety contains repeated stories of God’s unrelenting love for people. That’s part of what I find remarkable about this psalm. Many of the psalms are written to God as prayers. Those prayers reveal what people believe God should do or how they want to interact with God. But this one is written from a different perspective. In this one, the psalmist shares their previous experience with and of God… how God intervened and delivered them from distress.

Verses 4-9 are the first of those similar stories that the psalmist shares of God’s loving intervention. The writer tells us:

Some wandered in desert wastelands, finding no path to an inhabited town; hungry and thirsty, their soul withered within them. Then they cried out to the Holy One in their trouble, and God delivered them from their distress; God led them by a straight way, until they reached an inhabited town. Let them thank the Holy One for this steadfast love, for God’s wonderful works to humankind. For the Holy One satisfies the thirsty, and fills the hungry with good things.

Within this story and the other three that follow later in the Psalm, there are different details but the plot is the same. It begins with the people feeling hopeless and lost. They are not just suffering with physical hunger & thirst. Their soul is withering. Next the people cry out to God for help. This is followed by God delivering them from their distress. And finally, the people encourage thanksgiving and gratitude toward God.

Several things strike me about this story. First, like I said earlier, this was written about their experience of God rather than what they wanted God to do. Second, God delivers them only after they call out for help. And third, God’s deliverance does not magically transport them out of the desert. Rather, God’s deliverance was to help them along the way.

So let’s look at these pieces a little further. When we read this psalm, it tells stories of the people in the wilderness and deserts. It’s easy to imagine the early story telling that led to writing this psalm. It might have arisen from the experience of the Israelites being led out of Egypt by Moses. They traveled and searched and kept getting lost. They called out to false gods and idols for help but still were lost. It was only with the help of the one true God that they found their way. Or maybe the story was of shepherds traversing wild terrain looking for grazing lands and becoming lost. They seek and try all the ways they know to get their bearings but are still lost.

Regardless of the story’s origins, the images make sense given the history of the people in that era. Yet, even sitting here we can imagine such an experience today. Though few of us have been lost in a literal desert, many of us find ourselves lost in the wilderness of finding or keeping a job. We feel lost in a maze of ethical decisions like whether to choose financial security for ourselves at the expense of others. False gods offer us quick and easy ways to get rich but never ask what God’s calling on our life is.

Others of us have confronted illnesses that leave us feeling in the dark, struggling to make sense, find answers, and build a new path home. We ask questions, look for understanding, and use all our best methods to get our bearings but we are lost.

Still others of us have struggled through traumatic events where we just can’t seem to find our way home. We sit in what feels like a wilderness of sorrow and loss feeling all alone. We grow tired not knowing how to help ourselves and soon we start to feel our soul wither.

And let’s face it, even without extreme events, our day to day lives can feel daunting and draining and like we’re all alone. We try all kinds of things to help make the journey better… to help us find our way. But for all our best efforts, sometimes we still find ourselves in a wilderness, wandering and hungry. We were still hungry for that which only God can provide.

This psalm recognizes that hunger and tells the story of how others that came before us were filled. I find great comfort that this is not simply a prayer for what we want God to do but rather people touched by God telling of the great things from God. I don’t know about you but sometimes my most hope-filled moments are hearing the stories of others and this one is no different. It gives hope.

It is that hope that brings me to the second point in this passage. As they talk about their experience, they say that God delivers them after they call out for help. Why do you think that is? As a hospital chaplain, I often sit with people who feel alone and abandoned. They truly are in the darkest places of their lives. So if God’s love is so steadfast, why does it take calling out for them to experience deliverance?

Maybe the answer is not that simple. This is a story of people who knew God intimately and already believed God was there for them. They were already believers and they struggled like the rest of us. So what are they trying to tell us? I think they are sharing their story from their point of view. Think about it. When we talk about our experience of something, there’s a particular way people talk about the timing of things happening. They talk personally rather than a big picture point of view that might explain how God was always with them but they could not see it. But more importantly, I think the psalmist’s story of calling out to God reminds us that we usually aren’t open to help until we ask for it.

Think of those times when we’re frustrated such as when we’ve been working on something truly difficult. If someone just comes up and offers help, we usually aren’t open to it. I had one of those uncles who would never ask for directions no matter how lost they were. And I once saw someone break 2 bones falling because they refused help in carrying something. Sometimes we don’t ask for help because we’re too proud to receive it. Yet at the hospital I meet people who are too overwhelmed by sorrow and worry to even remember to ask for help. When offered even something simple like water, they refuse because they are too overwhelmed in that moment to receive. We go get them water, a cool cloth, and call their family, all of which they will use. But until they are open to help, they will not have an experience of being supported. They feel alone.

Yet, when we call out for help it is an entirely different matter. It’s us saying that we want and are open to help. It’s us letting go of our ego, our fears, and our walls to be humble and receptive to help. When we call out, especially in desperation, we have our ears, eyes, heart, mind… our whole self open to help.

So it goes with these people of God lost in the desert. They called out and God was there with the help they needed. But what was it exactly that they needed? This brings me to what I find most striking about this passage. What stuck out to me is not that these people were desperate or that they called out to God or that God helped them. What is most remarkable is that this passage tells us the way God helped them and it may not be what we expect.

The passage says that “God delivered them from their distress; God led them by a straight way, until they reached an inhabited town.” God’s deliverance did not magically transport them out of the desert to their destination. Rather, God’s deliverance was from their sense of distress… their withering soul. They no longer felt alone. Though God was already with them before, now they knew God was present with them. Their emotional and spiritual experience of hopelessness was nurtured and they were delivered from their distress.

God also stayed with them and helped them journey on a straighter path that would lead to inhabited towns where they could be replenished along the way. I thought this was an interesting passage so I looked up the history of people finding passage through the desert. What I found out is that there is no path because in the desert, the sand is always moving. Even the sand dunes moved. So the way one group went was not the way another went. What they did was that the leader would get their bearings on the direction they needed to go and they would try to walk a sort of wavy path around the sand dunes. That way they expended their energy more efficiently walking on level ground rather than up and down dunes. The path would be longer but they would not be so tired. So the path they traveled may have made them miss an oasis or small town, thus missing an opportunity for fresh water and a straw mattress.

So when this passage says that God led them on a straighter way that passed through towns, they are not saying that all was easy. Being delivered didn’t mean they were suddenly without work to do. They did not go from roughing it to sitting by the pool with an umbrella drink. And they did not suddenly arrive at their destination. They were still in the midst of a long and perilous journey… but they were not alone. God’s presence in the form of steadfast love stepped in and transformed their experience of the desert.

So let’s linger here for a bit. They clearly understood this as action as God’s love for them. They even said, “Let them thank the Holy One for this steadfast love, for God’s wonderful works to humankind. For the Holy One satisfies the thirsty, and fills the hungry with good things.”

So what happened to them? They found satisfaction and fulfillment along the way. They experienced God’s actions as wonderful works towards them. They were open to help and received it.

But what did this help look like exactly? They don’t say that a booming voice came from the sky directing them. They really don’t say much at all. But they are clear that God was with them along the way.

Honestly, I don’t think their experience of God is much different than our own. When God’s love shines through the faces of other people, if we are open to it, we recognize it as God. When God’s love holds us through the dark places, if we are open to it, we recognize it as God. When God’s love guides us to make decisions that are best for our families and communities, if we are open to it, we recognize it as God. And when God’s love lightens our hearts and fills us with hope, if we are open to it, we recognize it as God.

But the key here that seems to be that their fulfillment and even ours today is that God helped them along the way. So often we pray for things to be fixed. Or we want the miracle cure. Sometimes we desire a change but without all the work. But these people found God’s help along the way.

What do our lives look like when we receive God’s help along the way? Well, it usually means we still have work to do of some sort. But it also means we have something we’re focusing upon. It may not be a destination. Perhaps it is an ideal instead.

Have you ever been involved in one of those trips where everything just seems to go as planned? I think it would be very easy to attribute that to God… and rest assured, God was there. But the times I am more keenly aware of God are when things aren’t going well. Because if we’re open to it, we find unexpected help, meet new people that make our world brighter, and become better people for the journey.

I have spent a lot of time talking with cancer patients during my own treatment. Attitude is what seems to make the biggest difference in how people experience it. I’ve met people who feel like everything that can go wrong will go wrong with them. They feel like the world or God is out to get them. But others who have almost identical circumstances talk of all the great new people they’ve met. They share stories of how they found new interests and hobbies they would have never even thought of otherwise. They share stories of how a certain nurse is surly an angle because she always has the right words to comfort. Life isn’t just happening to or at them. Life is happening with God at their side.

Sisters and brothers, this is a passage about life happening. Life includes the joyous and the tragic and all that lies in between. Not all these events happen because of God but God is in the midst of them and still with us after them. Our job is to be open to God’s help. Our job is to keep journeying. Our job is to share in the journey with others around us. And we do this with hope knowing God is with us all along the way.

Amen

Abundant Love

Abundant Love <-- audio file of sermon – Based upon Psalm 139

Good morning. Some of you may remember me from last July when I was here but in case I missed you, let me tell you a bit about myself so you might understand where I come from and what I’m doing here today.

My name is Lavender. I’m a graduate of the Presbyterian seminary in Louisville, KY where I met Pastor Kathy but now I’m a member of the United Church of Christ. I am also a cancer survivor so I spend a good bit of time working with causes that raise money for cancer cures. For example, I shaved my head last month to raise money for childhood cancer research. And most importantly, I’m a pediatric chaplain at Children’s Memorial Hospital in Chicago. That’s my full time call where I am continually honored to sit with people in some of the darkest periods and most joyous moments of their lives. Being with families when they feel so powerless due to the illness of their children is in my experience one of those places where the theological rubber hits the road. If what we believe doesn’t hold up in those moments, then we are left wondering, searching, and feeling abandoned. Where is God? Why did this happen to us? If God is so powerful, why is my baby still sick?

These are the questions I hear every day and faithfully attempt to work with. This is where today’s Psalm comes in. Now before you get uncomfortable, let me say that my introduction doesn’t mean that I’m going to tell you hospital stories that make you cry. Instead, the bulk of this sermon centers on love. Love so abundant that it’s ever present, connects us so deeply, and makes every step of the journey worth it.

Psalm 139 is an amazing psalm. It is King David’s song of what it feels like to be loved by God. One commentary refers to this psalm as the “No escape, no regrets, no compromise” psalm because of the story it tells of how wondrous it is to be loved by God. But this is a song of far more meaning than that. It’s also the story of how we, in God’s image attempt to love. It’s how we parent. It’s how we look into our beloved’s eyes. It’s how we engage each other in our more perfect moments. It’s about a present, connecting, and compellingly abundant love.

From the very beginning of David’s song of praise, he speaks of God’s presence regardless of where he’s at, regardless of what’s going on, and regardless of David’s willingness to engage God. God is present because love never leaves us.

The psalmist tells us: “You know when I sit down and when I rise up; you discern my thoughts from far away. You search out my path and my lying down, and are acquainted with all my ways. Even before a word is on my tongue, O Lord, you know it completely. You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me.”

That’s a powerful image of God with us. But is that how we experience God. We live in a time where skepticism, cynicism, and doubt often rightfully point to brokenness. And what of the people I encounter at the hospital who feel so abandoned in a dark and powerless place? Is God that present here and now? Without a doubt, yes. I believe there are lots of places and ways to experience God that are both powerful and gentle. In our daily lives we encounter beauty, creation, mystery, love, and wonder that must surely point to God. In the dark places, even though we may not be able to see it at the time, God shines through many of the faces of the people around us. Friends, I’m nothing special and if you tell me you experience God in the sunrise, I’ll not argue with you. I know people who even say they hear a voice they know is God. Now as long as that voice leads them to be more loving and whole, who am I to say it’s not God. God is abundantly present.

But let’s go a step further. How we understand God’s presence also matters. Listen to these words again. “You know when I sit down and when I rise up; you discern my thoughts from far away. You search out my path and my lying down, and are acquainted with all my ways. Even before a word is on my tongue, O Lord, you know it completely. You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me.”

I have heard abusers use such language as a tool of power and control over their prey. Abusers inflate their image by talking of how they are inescapable and all-knowing making the abused feel like they are powerless… and worst of all abuse is often framed by the abuser as love.

Now it may catch you off guard to hear me compare David’s psalm to the experience of abuse. But I raise this similarity for a reason. Language can be a tricky thing. Words often sound the same. But what matters is how we experience it. God’s love is present but never imposing or overbearing. David’s experience of God is not that of being controlled but one of being gently held along the way. His experience was that of moving about freely while wrapped in the fabric of God that fit him perfectly so that it moved as if it was part of him. That is nothing short of abundant love.

This brings us to the second element of this abundant love. It is a love that is deeply relational, connecting, and knowing. Throughout this psalm there are a few words that stand out repeatedly. First of all, this psalm uses more I/you language than almost any other. This is basic grammar 1st person and 2nd person stuff. We only use these two tenses together in relationships. David talks about how he and God are connected… how they are in relationship.

Beginning at verse 15, “My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth. Your eyes beheld my unformed substance. In your book were written all the days that were formed for me, when none of them as yet existed. How weighty to me are your thoughts, O God! How vast is the sum of them! I try to count them—they are more than the sand; I come to the end—I am still with you.”

But more than using I and you repeatedly to signify relationship, David goes even deeper. He uses some form of the word “to know” 7 times throughout this psalm. To know… that seems simple enough. I know Pastor Kathy. I know that 1+1=2. But in Hebrew, the word we translate as know, knowledge, knowing and its other forms means way more than just facts. The Hebrew word “yada” is a deeply intimate word. In scripture the same root word is used to talk about the intimate, mysterious way that someone knows their beloved. It’s a word that implies understanding, reverence, and awe. It’s about seeing and knowing so deeply that you can’t imagine anything but loving actions between the two. David felt such wonder that God knew him in ways he didn’t even know himself. He proclaims, “Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is so high that I cannot attain it.”

But we do attain it in some ways. Consider how we “know” those close to us like a child or a beloved. Even as we know them more, we see more that they are to become. There is both knowing and mystery woven together. God’s love… abundant love holds all of who we are, all that has brought us here, and all that we are not yet in a reverent gaze so that when we look at someone close to us we say, “I see you so fully in some ways yet ‘Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is so high that I cannot attain it.’” Ultimately, it is often the mystery of what is beyond knowing someone that reveals the most fullness. For me, it’s that gap between what is known and what has yet to unfold that is most awe and God inspiring. Looking upon that chasm inspires me to want this God love even more because I know that I must surely be seeing glimpses of God’s image in those whom I regard. I must surely be looking at the gap between my ability to love and God’s image in us and instead of feeling small, I feel inspired to love all the more.

Now because it always catches people’s attention in the psalm I feel I must address David’s digression into contempt for the those who hate God… those vile evildoers who curse God and I do believe this section also fits with what true “knowing” is. In verses 19-22 David takes on an almost playground persona of “my daddy will beat up your daddy” as he takes his eyes off God, where they’ve been throughout the psalm, and looks with judgmental eyes upon those he doesn’t understand. Yet he bounces back to placing his eyes on God almost as if he knows something may have been wrong in what he’s uttered. He doesn’t express understanding as to what was wrong but he seems to know God will as he ends with one of the single greatest prayers in scripture. "Search me, O God and know my heart. Try me and know my thoughts. See if there is any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting."

When I read David’s quick bounce back, I often wonder if he suddenly realized that God intimately knows and loves these other people too. He has a relationship with God that is present even when he doesn’t respond so I imagine that he suddenly realizes that he was singing this song of hate when the only song he needed to sing was, “God, you know me. Please help me feel your presence. Where there is malice in me, show me a more perfect way.” Such a prayer can only be uttered in safety, relationship, and love… abundant love.

This brings us to the final element of such a wondrous abundant love… that of journeying and growing all along the way. I began today by talking about people’s experience of feeling abandoned by God. I need to concede to you that I don’t have clear one liner answers or sound bites that would satisfy Fox News or CNN. I can never tell people why their child is sick in a way that has universal meaning. But I do know they are good people who do good things and don’t deserve it. And even if the parents were truly rotten, no one deserves pain and suffering. So, where is God when we suffer?

Well, like I’ve pointed to, God is very present even when we can’t fully see it. God is most definitely right there with us. I can’t answer these huge questions that have been too great for us for millennia. But I do know that much like we live in relationship with God, we also live in relationship with each other. We, as I’ve pointed to, live out God’s love and that vision in all our relationships. We stand in those gaps and that darkness to help others along the way. We celebrate those triumphs and special moments as we each become more than we were before. We journey together. We journey together in a way that reveals God’s presence. We journey together in a way that reveals God’s love. We journey together in a way that challenges us, moves us, changes us… and is ALWAYS worth it.

Why is it worth it? Verses 13 & 14 tell us: “For it was you who formed my inward parts; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; that I know very well.”

Fearfully and wonderfully made… no matter when or where I read that phrase, it sticks with me. Fearfully and wonderfully made… what is that? I’ll tell you what it is. 6 years ago, my nephew was born. Upon receiving word, I hopped in the car and drove to Tennessee so that I could see him. When I first held him, I was filled with love. A love that overflows because it’s like in that moment I was catching a glimpse of all that he is, all that God knitted together… so full… so amazing, so beautiful. And then in the same gasp I was also aware of all that he would face… troubles, tears, bruises, broken hearts, fears… it all hit me. All that I hoped for him and all that I feared… but in that moment, tears streaming down my face, I knew that our love… his life… all along the way would be worth the risk of broken hearts and bicycle accidents. To be fearfully and wonderfully made is to be all that we are and risk all that will happen, knowing that no matter what happens, it will be worth it.

The families I meet at the hospital, even when the outcome is grave know that no matter what, having and loving that child is worth it. When we look into our beloved’s eyes and risk loving in sickness and health, we do so because it’s worth it. When we reach out to new friends and relationships and risk rejection we are saying that connection and love is more important and worth it. Sisters and brothers, Despite all our fears, the people we love, the passions we pursue, and the ways we seek to live out God’s calling and presence in our lives… these things are ALWAYS worth it.

We are fearfully and wonderfully made. God set in motion a creation and stays with it all along the way knowing that such a relationship may risk unthinkable outcomes. But in doing so, God leads by example and shows that it’s worth it. Our charge is to live out God’s image together knowing it’s worth it. Our charge is to embrace, to uphold, to nurture, to love. Our charge is to be vulnerable to the embrace, to be vulnerable to the nurture, and to be vulnerable to the love others. When we go out into the world, we are to live into the creation God has made us to be. Do this by knowing that we are all fearfully and wonderfully made.

Amen

A Prayer Along The Way

God, we’ve made it here… even though we don’t yet know what here means. Thank you for being with us to this point and all that you’ve done to get us to this place.

Please continue to walk with us and show us what this time holds. We need direction, patience, and nurture along the path. Help us to see those things that will sustain us as they come our way. When we miss an opportunity of blessing, help us to keep our eyes open for the next. When we are tired, lead us to peaceful slumber. When we are frustrated, give us a listening ear. When we are scared, wrap us in your love. And when we need laughter and joy, help us to dance with the love that carries us all along the way.

Gracious God, most of all, help us to come through this time with grace and land on the other side with wisdom.

With hope and love we pray, Amen.

Resurrection... Now and Always

As a Christian I've struggled to make the resurrection meaningful and real. Even as a cancer survivor, it does not always seem to make sense. But resurrection is not about mere survival. Resurrection is about transformation, thriving, and a lived life beyond our previous imagination. May we all experience resurrection now and always.

The Best Chaplain I Ever Did Know

As you probably I know I am a chaplain in a pediatric hospital.  For the sake of clarity, let me define the role of hospital chaplain in general terms.  A chaplain is a clergy person who regardless of their own beliefs, supports the spiritual and emotional needs of patients, families, and staff in a hospital.  That role can look like advocacy around poverty or race issues or it can be more like sitting in the dark silence with someone when words fail us. The role is diverse and always changing.

 

I came to this profession because of a deep sense of calling combined with some strong gifts and skills for the job.  But where did these gifts and skills come from?  The easy answer would be to say God.  But the truth is I had a great teacher.  I learned from the best chaplain there ever has been.  His name is Bear Bear.

Bear Bear is my stuffed bear that I’ve had since Valentine’s Day 1976. If you ever meet him, you’ll realize that he used to be white with a red belly but now he’s dirty beige and kind of burgundy.  He’s endured many surgeries (repairs), has a broken eye, a missing mouth, and his fur is rubbed thin in places.  If you’re familiar with The Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams, you’ll recognize that he is “real” because he has all the signs of being truly loved.

 

Anyway, all of the most important things I know about being a good chaplain I learned from Bear Bear.  First of all, he is an amazing listener.  Whether I was crying my eyes out or just chatting, he never flinched.  He paid attention without judging, interrupting, or becoming distracted.  I could see it in his eyes.  He looked deeply into me as if to say, “no matter the words coming out of your mouth, I understand and love you.”

 

If Bear Bear’s empathy came through in his listening, it was most pronounced in his intuitive presence.  He knew what I needed.  Whether it was appropriate use of touch, distracting play, or wiping my tears, he paid attention to what the moment needed.  He seemed to have an intuitive sense about when the right time was to hug and just be with me or when it was time to gently guide me into doing something different.  I’ve come to believe that intuition is partially about how our brain works.  But it is more a matter of truly being with someone so that all the contextual pieces form a clearer picture in that moment.

 

Bear Bear demonstrated his intuitiveness but more importantly, he paid attention to what that inner voice told him.  He acted with both assuredness and gentleness.  If there is a definition of pastoral authority, that is it.  He was bold to reach out but soft to the touch.  He was firm in his beliefs but nurturing to my development. He gave of himself but claimed personal time with friends (he played very well with others from the toy box).  He looked for new ways of helping but honored our familiar traditions.  Bear Bear offered who he was and what he could in whatever situation arose.

Gleaning from the lessons Bear Bear taught me, I’ve learned to communicate through my body language that I care, to truly sit in the moment with people so that my movements are purposeful, to listen to my inner voice and act accordingly, and so much more.  As I consider everything I am as a chaplain, I first own a debt of gratitude to my mentor, guide, and friend Bear Bear.  Thank you Bear Bear.

The Moment That Matters

Recently a child died unexpectedly while admitted to the hospital.  Because it is rare to have anything unforeseen happen at our hospital, the staff experience these moments as difficult to reconcile.  I hear “what if” questions from the most brilliant and competent of care providers.  I also find myself asking how I could have met the spiritual and emotional needs of the family and staff better.  Those questions are perfectly reasonable.  We have a hospital culture that invites us to always grow and become more than we are.  So, these questions come from a place of recognizing that we can always do something better.  But will the growth from that process necessarily change the outcome of such situations? 

It might but that does not need to be our only focus.  Our job, regardless of the specifics of our functions, is to enter into particular moments in time where we engage all the dynamics and variables of that moment bringing who we are and what we can offer.  That sounds like a lot but it is exactly what we do every day.  Working in a hospital, regardless of the position, is very much about being engaged so that we see the patterns and needs as they emerge.  We utilize our senses, training, and one another to produce the best outcomes for our patients and families.  Yet, we don’t always get the result we want.

Shortly after this child died, I was talking with one of the staff as she asked the questions of what could have been done differently.  Yet, I sensed in her a darker sense of guilt and doubt that I’ve watched haunt nurses and doctors to the point of leaving the profession.  As we spoke, I asked her, “What would it have really taken to create a different outcome for that child?”  She looked at me puzzled so I answered the question for her.  I said, “I believe you did your absolute best in that small moment in time that you were with the patient.  That moment was preceded by many many moments where other decisions would have had to have been made in order for your moment to be different.  It’s like walking in on an elaborate pattern of dominos falling.  You only get to see a small section but the dominos have been hitting one after another for a long time.  You did exactly what you could in that moment.”

What I told her is true.  When I look at the medical realities of the patient, I see a series of events that cascaded toward that one moment where she died.  Our staff entered into a critical moment for that child and provided world class medical care that honored her and her family.  We worked hard as individuals of various disciplines and as a team.  Yet, we were not able to save the child.  Why?  Did someone do something wrong?  Not in that moment.  Sure, there are little things that we can improve upon.  For example, I wish I had arrived faster to support the family.  But I didn’t because there are many needs and as a chaplain, I triage needs just like the clinical staff.

I’m not saying that medical mistakes never happen because we all know that they do.  Nevertheless, that was not the case in this moment nor has it been the case in any moments I’ve witnessed.  Yet, I continue to encounter staff that internalize the traumatic nature of such a loss and become haunted by its memory. 

We enter moments.  We can’t be responsible for all the other moments that lead to that one.  We must have grace for ourselves and recognize our limits.  This grace is certainly akin to God’s grace.  We are always in the presence of moments with God and all creation where we are limited in our influence because there is so much more that has happened and will continue once we’re gone.  We are truly part of an elaborate, always unfolding, pattern of dominos that drop and create the next moment and the next moment and the next moment.  May we always enter the moment.

The Pinhole by Lavender Kelley

A young one was lost, wandering in the dark.  Occasionally, she would bump into others who also roamed.  But, they did not realize she was lost.  They did not understand that they were lost as well.  A few of them believed they knew the path and took her with them.  She trusted them and went where they went.  However, with time, she always ended up alone and even more lost… a little more afraid than before with a few new injuries that told of her journey through the dark.

Once in a while, she thought she could see a distant pinhole in the dark through which light shown.  She tried to make the journey to look through the pinhole, but each time the great chasm of darkness, her painful injuries, and vexing fears made her lose sight of the light.  Sometimes she stopped when  she  met some who had been hurt badly.  She tried to help them.  But when she did, her own injuries got worse and the pinhole seemed even farther away.

Eventually, she came to see the pinhole less and less.  Sometimes she doubted there was any light at all.  She imagined that she was abandoned in the darkness as a way of punishing her.  She did not like the way thinking about that made her feel.  She liked to sit and imagine what wondrous things there were outside the darkness.  From time to time, that gave her hope but the hope would quickly vanish into the darkness.  Mostly, however, she just felt trapped, believing that she deserved the darkness and that she would never know anything more of the light than the image of the pinhole that eluded her.

One day, feeling desperate, she moved through the darkness as quickly as she could.  She called out names of those that might know of the light.  Someone heard her, but he did not know anything of the pinhole.  Wanting to help, that one called to another and then another.  In a matter of moments, she was passed through the darkness along a corridor and found herself with someone different than the others she had met.  Rather than tell her that she was lost and just needed to follow someone that “knows,” this one listened to her share her journey and the hope for peering through the pinhole.  After hearing this courageous account, this new one held her tightly.  She wept in the embrace.  This was not like the holding of the darkness that always felt cold and unwelcome.  This embrace was warm, inviting.  There was something very different about this feeling.  She knew that she was safe.  She knew that she was loved.  And then her eyes opened. 

She immediately understood that it had not been a pinhole in the distance that she had seen all this time.  Rather, it was the light around her trying to enter her eyelids.  At first she felt shame.  She cried out, “Why did I not just open my eyes?  I would not have all these gashes and bruises.  See, it is my fault!”

This one held her hand and said, “It is not your fault. No one held you tightly enough for you to know.  No one told you.  All you knew were the others with their eyes closed.”

Suddenly, she realized that this one was not just right in front of her.  This One was everywhere… even in her.  That pinhole had not only been the light trying to show her the way out of the darkness.  It had also been her light trying to illuminate the darkness for them all. 

She heard the One speak.  “You will still hurt, but you will also find true rest.  Rest, my little one.  Rest in the light and do not fear the dark.  We are One and never alone.”

Helping Children Cope After Traumatic Loss

Recently, I was asked for advice on what to do with children on a significant date in the life of a grandparent who committed suicide less than a year ago.  The questions were about whether to involve their children ranging in ages from 7-12 in rituals and sharing as well as how to talk with them.  The parent also shared with me details of how each child tends to process, communicate, and share emotion.  The following is my response to that person with appropriate edits to protect the family. 

[Friend],

You’ve been in my thoughts and prayers.  No death is ever easy but some are harder and leave us with more questions than others. Suicide is usually among the hardest for everyone to make peace with, not just for children.  So, let me start by saying that I hope you are finding the support you need.  Maintaining all your roles as parent, spouse, child, and so much more is incredibly difficult in the midst of grief, especially when it is traumatic and unexpected.

Talking to kids about death is a significant part of what I do for a living but telling you for certain how to handle it is impossible. Every child is different and you obviously know that because of the way you describe them.  So, I suggest you give yourself credit and trust your intuition with them. 

From what I know of you and [your spouse], you are open parents who talk in age appropriate ways to your children.  But as a reminder, it is best to use consistent, direct wording like “dead” or “death” because you don't want this to be confused with other types of leaving. But a difficulty you face is that [your oldest child] is now processing from a combination of abstract and concrete thinking whereas [your youngest child] is still a concrete thinker.  This may mean having conversations with them at different times so they can each ask and get what they need.  Personally, I avoid theological messages like “God needed him in heaven” because it gives kids painful messages they can’t process about their own safety here and now. But it is okay to talk about “being with God and Jesus in heaven” if that is what you believe.

Most importantly, when they are ready, answer their questions and talk to them about it. Every kid is different so those questions will come at different times.  You can encourage questions without forcing the conversation. But when one of them does ask questions, be prepared to answer the tough ones like when will grandma, mommy, daddy, siblings, and self will die. Try never to act shocked by their questions because they’ll interpret it as something being wrong with their questions.  Sometimes they ask truly difficult ones like “what did he do wrong that he killed himself?” or “if I die, will you replace me?”  These are questions that need straight answers.  Listen for what the underlying need or fear is and just answer them in simple, honest ways.

Now that I’ve gone on (maybe too long) about how to talk, let me get to your specific questions about what to do on these significant dates like birthdays, death anniversaries, and such.  I appreciate you “not wanting to put any emotions on the [the children]” but they need to see the wide array of emotions you have AND witness you handling them appropriately. In part, this is done by you having conversations with [your spouse] (perhaps even including them) where you share your thoughts and feelings but only go as far as they can handle.  It will give them courage to handle their own emotions to witness you two doing the same.

As for what specifically to say or do, do whatever is natural and meaningful to you and your family.  Kids need to learn that rituals and remembrances are a way we hold onto people in a healthy way.  If it is meaningful for you to tell stories, then do that.  It you prefer to do something else, please do.  What’s important is that the children see you as facing your grief and dealing with it rather than avoiding it.  But also give room for them to grow into and prefer other rituals of their own.  Some kids like to write letters or draw pictures for the person who has died.  Anyway, whatever is done, you should emphasize that this is about BOTH honoring/loving [the grandparent] AND helping ya’ll to express your feelings.  With time they will come to understand that those activities ultimately make your memories of [the grandparent] more meaningful.

Again, I want to encourage you to trust yourself while also listening to your inner needs.  Kids are more in tune with sensing comfort and discomfort than they are your specific words.  If you are uncomfortable, please do what you need to grow through that.  But also just be honest with them about why you are uncomfortable.  That will help them more than trying to hide your discomfort.

I hope this has been helpful.  You will continue to be in my prayers.  Please let me kwon I you need anything. I also have some great children’s resources like coloring books, books for various reading levels, and support information if you are interested.  I could ship you anything you think might be helpful.

Grace and Peace,

Lavender

P.S. Now that I read back through this I think the one thing I didn't say that I wanted to is that they are looking to you to learn how to grieve.  You are their guide and they will likely be able to handle whatever rituals or events you include them in as long as you prepare them for it.  Make sure they know what to expect.  I know it sounds odd to tell someone step by step what will happen at a ritual but kids need to know in advance what concrete steps to take or they are more caught in their fear than their wonder.  It is in wonder that rituals bear their greatest gifts.