For You Are With Me

Psalm 23

I was on-call at Dartmouth-Hitchcock and was called down to the oncology unit on the first floor. 

When I got to the patient’s room, I noticed that someone was inside with her already. 

It was one of her nurses and the nurse was trying to reassure her, but the patient was inconsolable.

When the nurse came out from the room, I asked if it was alright that I visit with her.

And she gave me a look as though to say “Enter at your own risk.”

The woman, who I will call Dolores, was clearly in her final days, her breathing was very taxed and she had the distressed and worn out look of someone who had been fighting for way too long.

On top of this, she was feeling extremely lonely and afraid

I’m sure some of you have known that feeling of being alone in a crowded place like a hospital.

She was feeling that isolation and also a gnawing fear.

A fear that her husband would not be with her when she died. 

The nurse had been asked to call her husband to ask him to come. 

But they had been unable to get ahold of him.

And so Dolores was beside herself.

Perhaps it was that I was a new face, a stranger, or something else

But she welcomed me into the room and seemed to calm a bit as I introduced myself as a chaplain.

She asked if I would read her some Psalms. 

I looked around the room and could not find a Bible

so I went out and asked for a Bible and eventually one was found. 

I read a few psalms that I knew and had found comforting, including the 23^rd Psalm. 

She thanked me but then her face changed to a more perplexed and thoughtful expression.

And she began to whisper.

She began to whisper her doubts and questions and anger at God and at the unfairness of life. 

She seemed like she was in a whirlpool of anxiety

and was reaching out to hold on to some connection to land or stability. 

I shared with her that I also struggle with these questions too. 

But that I do believe that a God who loves is behind all of this.

If I had known this hymn at the time, I might have shared it with her:

“Within the maddening maze of things,

When tossed by storm and flood,

To one fixed trust my spirit clings;

I know that God is good!”

When I left the room after forty minutes or so, the storm in her seemed to have passed.

She seemed to feel safer, calmer, more peaceful.

The nurse came in and said that they had reached her husband and that he was on his way.

My experience with Dolores sticks with me.

Dolores was dying from cancer.  But that was not the urgent concern.

More than the fact that she was dying, was the fact that she felt alone.

I think the power of the 23^rd Psalm and of many of the Psalms.

Is that they speak to us out of the Psalmist’s own fears and uncertainties,

Out of the Psalmist’s own loneliness and anxiety.

We have to remember and imagine that there is a person behind the text.

That there’s a struggle behind these prayers.

That every Psalm has a Psalmist. 

And the words are coming from a personal experience of life and God.

The Lord is my shepherd, I’m not alone.

Why does this need to be said, except that the Psalmist,

like all of us, finds again and again that feeling of being left alone in an unfair world.

It is the struggle of faith that makes it possible to say again,

The God who made me is with me

in everything that life brings my way.

I shall not want.

Because the truth is, I will want.  I do want, I am again and again in a place of want.

And so again and again I will need to come to these verses

because though in my clearest moments I believe them,

I find myself in a place of feeling the opposite.

Feeling that the Lord is nowhere to be found. 

And though I read the Psalm to Dolores,

and I think that it was helpful for her to hear the word.

It wasn’t until she was able to speak freely, to talk openly about her fears and doubts,

Her anger and sadness at life’s maddening maze.

It wasn’t until she was able to be honest and in a way, voice her own Psalm,

That she was able find her way back.

To find God again on the other side of her fears.

Or maybe we should say, to be found again.

We need Psalms to remind us and wake us up again to the truth that we’re not alone.

That the uncertainties of past and present and future as uncertain as they are

are held in the loving arms of God.

We need Psalms, but we also need one another.

I don’t think it would have been as helpful if I gave Dolores the Bible and pointed to where the Psalms were and left the room.

It was in our reading together that she was able to share more freely her fears and her doubts.

And explore what Psalm 23 faith means in the darkest valley of her last days in a hospital room.

We need one another – this is how God our shepherd cares for us.

God cares for us, through us.

God leads us, by us,

God restores us, with us.

We are in this together.

And as we worship together, share joys and concerns together,

Visit one another, listen and laugh and cry with one another,

We make real the truth that God is our shepherd.

Because the one named in the Psalm is the same one who indwells each one of us.

And it is through our being present to God and to one another,

That we are reminded not just in our thoughts,

But in our hearts.

That we are not alone. 

That God will see us through,

That love is more real than fear.

Maybe you’re wondering what to do for a friend who is going through a hard time.

Maybe you’re the friend who is going through the hard time and you are wondering where there might be solid ground in the midst of the storm.

Fear is an overwhelming and all-consuming mood.

but it is not the final truth of things.

When I am feeling most afraid or anxious or worried,

What really helps me is not to think of a few of my favorite things,

although I do enjoy that song.

What really helps is rather to remember the times

when I have experienced love from God -- often through another person.

What helps me is to think of those times

when I have felt fulfilled and connected and accepted,

When I have felt safe again, like a sheep remembering again the presence of the shepherd.

Those are the moments of grace, of feeling most fully alive.

To remember the experience of grace but also

To switch the logic of suspicion

in my mind which wants to say,

“that experience of fullness or peace, forgiveness or grace –

that’s really the exception not the norm, that’s not the real truth about me, about God, about life.”

To switch the logic of suspicion to the logic of faith, the logic of Psalm 23 when it says,

“Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I fear no evil; for you are with me.”

The truth behind the fear, is the one of God’s abiding presence,

God’s steadfast love.

And whether it’s by myself or oftentimes in conversation with a good friend,

I am reminded of those times, of that experience of God’s presence,

as if awakening from a bad dream,

And it helps me see beyond the storm, beyond the immediate,

To the more abiding truth that God will take care of us.

And will be with us to the end.

The most common image in early Christian art is the Good Shepherd.

A painting on the wall of the underground caverns where early Christians worshipped

That showed a young shepherd with a lamb over his shoulder.

Who had left the 99 just to find the one that had wandered off.

And bring it back to safety.

May we keep that picture ever before the eyes of heart.

And may God’s grace open our hearts to believe.

That the LORD is my shepherd,

I shall not want.

He makes me lie down in green pastures;

he leads me beside still waters;

he restores my soul.

Amen.

Reacting and Responding

Psalm 4

There’s a poem by Wendell Berry that I think of often and have shared from the pulpit on a number of occasions – it’s one Rachelle shared with me a number of years ago.

It’s called The Peace of Wild Things.

When despair for the world grows in me

and I wake in the night at the least sound

in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,

I go and lie down where the wood drake

rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.

I come into the peace of wild things

who do not tax their lives with forethought

of grief. I come into the presence of still water.

And I feel above me the day-blind stars

waiting with their light. For a time

I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

The poet’s response to despair is to look to the care that God shows in sustaining creation.  The grace of wood drakes resting and great herons feeding. 

The simplicity of the economy of the natural world.

The poem always reminds me of Jesus’s words about lilies and sparrows.

Jesus says in conclusion: your heavenly Father knows what you need: so do not worry.

This modern poem came to mind as I was pondering the words of the ancient poem we read this week:

When you are disturbed, do not sin;
    ponder it on your beds, and be silent. Selah
Offer right sacrifices,
    and put your trust in the Lord.

This phrase: “When you are disturbed”

Really grabbed my attention.

The word used here in the Psalm doesn’t mean exactly

what we mean by the word disturbed.

In other translations we see “tremble,” “quake,” “be angry,” “stand in awe”

One of the things that English readers of the Bible have always struggled with is how hard it can be to pin down one meaning for a given word in the Hebrew.

And there’s reason to believe that this is intentional on the part of the writers themselves.

It shows an abundance of meaning and possibilities that words have.

This verse gets used later by Paul in his letter to the Ephesians when he writes:

“Be angry but do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger” (Eph 4:26)

This is because Paul used the Greek translation of the Hebrew that was in use during his writing and that translation had chosen to hear this verse not as:

 When you are disturbed, do not sin;

But as:

Be angry, but do not sin.

The word here translated disturbed, there translated angry or “stand in awe” or “quake” or “tremble”

Means all of these things. 

As I was reading and thinking about the word and how it is translated in all those ways – I wanted to find a way to translate it in my own words.

And as I’ve thought about it and tried to imagine what the poet is saying here –

I’ve come up with my own word that shows what I think might be going on.

I read it as “When you are shaken up, do not sin;”

And it got me to thinking about the things that shake me up – the things that shake us up.

The things that make our blood run faster, that make our adrenaline pumps run.

What are the things that shake us up?

This Psalm is an evening prayer. 

Maybe even a midnight prayer for those times when we are up in the middle of the night like Wendell Berry with despair for the world –

or perhaps some more local concern,

a conversation or argument that left a sour taste in your heart. 

Or a feeling of having to do something or not having done something.  It’s strange thing, but there seem to be endless possible ways to get shaken-up.

And what do we do when we are shaken up –

When we’re shaken up in the middle of a conversation we might get angry and say something hurtful

When we’re shaken up and we’re by ourselves we might get overrun with what Wendell Berry calls “forethought / of grief”

When we’re shaken up we tend to try to shake off what has shaken us. 

And we do this impulsively at times.

And so comes out a word we didn’t intend, a hasty action that makes things worse.

We want to get back to the unshaken place and yet our response just shakes things up all the more.

When I was in my first internship up at Dartmouth-Hitchcock I learned a distinction that has stuck with me.

When we would be visiting people in the hospital room we never knew what to expect.

We never knew what kinds of things would “shake us up.”

And so our supervisor Frank taught us the difference between “reacting” and “responding”

Reacting is that in the moment knee-jerk word or action in the cloud of emotions.

Responding waits a moment.  Notices the reaction before it gets out of the mouth or through the hands and considers why the person might have done or said that and why I might have wanted to say or do that – and in that moment makes a decision to say or do something with awareness and intention.

Reacting is in the moment, not through-through, emotionally charged and quick.

Responding is cooler, intentional and deliberate and necessarily slower.

We were good at reacting – responding took more work and required a good deal of thoughtful intention and patience.

I think this Psalm gives a good picture of what it means to respond rather than react

to being shaken up.

When you are disturbed, do not sin;
    ponder it on your beds, and be silent. Selah
Offer right sacrifices,
    and put your trust in the Lord.

A proverb that we find in the New Testament in the letter of James is another example of responding versus reacting:

“You must understand this, my beloved: let everyone be quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to anger; for your anger does not produce God’s righteousness.”

Quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to anger.

How many people brag about being a quick listener? And slow reactor?

Quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to anger.

In other words.  Patience – responding rather than reacting.

It’s helpful for me to remember that regardless of what got me shaken up – all of those things that were out of my control – I have the ability to respond well.

That’s something that is in my power to do.

And a necessary part of responding rather than reacting is cultivating a rested heart.

It’s like when you shake a jar of pond water and it gets cloudy. 

It’s only when the jar has been still over time does it return to a settled and clear state.

The Psalmist encourages all who are listening

Rest your heart in God.

Trust in God’s care. 

The Psalmist who we’re lead to understand has been in a shaky situation –

counsels others to not let disturbance, the shake-up lead them to sin.

But rather – the Psalmist bids them “Ponder it on your beds, and be silent.” “put your trust in the Lord.” 

And I love what the King James version of this Psalm says: “commune with your own heart upon your bed, and be still.”

Stillness. Communing with your own heart, trusting in God – remembering that God our Creator is the one place of stillness and strength in the midst of shakiness. 

The Psalmist says – you who are shaken up. 

Rest in God, be still. 

Commune with your own heart upon your bed.

And the Psalmist finds peace from this. 

Remembering God’s abundant care,

The shakiness begins to settle, and in the clearness gratitude returns.

“You have put gladness in my heart
    more than when their grain and wine abound.

I will both lie down and sleep in peace;
    for you alone, O Lord, make me lie down in safety.”

And in the presence of God we find peace and assurance of God’s care.

Blessed Assurance.  All our days.

It made me think of the prayer of Teresa de Avila who as a reformer in the 16^th century no doubt knew well what it meant to feel shaken up:

“Let nothing disturb you,

Let nothing frighten you,

All things are passing away:

God never changes.

Patience obtains all things

Whoever has God lacks nothing;

God alone suffices.”

Amen.

Potluck Church

Acts 4:32-35

John 20:19-31

What does the word church make you think of?

Church.  What do we mean by church?

Is church the building we are in?

Is it the community we are sitting among?

Is it an event we come to for an hour once a week?

What do we mean by church?

We use the word in a lot of different ways.

Church has been a part of my life since before I can remember.

For some others here church is a very new thing.

For others still church was something they had once been a part of –

something they became unable to continue with

but something they have found again in the twists and turns of life.

Church has been a place of liberation for some.

Church has been a place of oppression for others.

Church is potluck suppers and the smell of old books.

Church is paper bulletins and grape juice in tiny plastic cups.

Church is a place of being with friends and neighbors – church is community.

Church is a place of fellowship – but also arguments and strong opinions.

Church is a life-line in difficult times.

Church reminds of loved ones lost. 
Church reminds of belonging found.

Church is a place of grace – where prayers and songs uplift and scripture inspires.

Church is a place one cannot return to – it contains memories of burnout, embarrassment, judgment.

Church is a word with so many different associations.

Church is an experience with so many different memories depending on the individual.

Memories that bring emotions of joy and sorrow – of discouragement but also of hope.

One of the great things about the gospels is that they give us a glimpse into the origins of this thing that we have come to call church.

The word church is used as the English translation in the New Testament of the Greek word ekklesia which was a gathering together, an assembly of people for a common purpose.

It was sort of ad hoc at first.

We see this in the story of the disciples gathered in the room

Where the risen Christ came among them.

They were together.  They were praying. Christ showed up.

What began ad hoc became the basic service order for the earliest gatherings.

And there was always food.  Breaking bread became essential.

I was reminded through reading the Slow Church book that it’s probable that when Jesus at the last supper said “do this” in remembrance of me,

That what he meant by “this” was eating together.

He wasn’t imagining the Lord’s Supper in the way that we have it now.

But rather that his disciples would eat together, share this basic event of life together in his memory.

Ad hoc gatherings around food.  And prayer.

In 1 Corinthians 14:26 we hear Paul describing the early Christian gatherings:

“When you come together, each one has a hymn, a lesson, a revelation, a tongue, or an interpretation. Let all things be done for building up.”

Let all things be done for building up.  The purpose of gathering was not just worshipping God, remembering Jesus, but building up one another.

A similar passage we find in Colossians:

“…Clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience. Bear with one another and, if anyone has a complaint against another, forgive each other; just as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive. Above all, clothe yourselves with love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony. And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in the one body. And be thankful. Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly; teach and admonish one another in all wisdom; and with gratitude in your hearts sing psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs to God.” Colossians 3:12-16

The purpose of coming together as we now do for church is building up – is learning the way of community founded in grace.

And there’s something very “potluck” to this picture of church.

I was inspired by these descriptions of Christian community when I was living in Columbia, South Carolina and I planted a church.

I didn’t think about it like this at the time.

It’s only in retrospect that I realize what I was doing – I was trying to form a small house church.

It was because I had been without Christian community for a number of months on account of a weekend night shift I had taken on to help pay my student loans and my recently acquired moped lease.

I have no doubt that summers in Acworth were in my mind when I invited people to a “potluck”

It was to be a literal potluck – people were invited to bring food.

But it was more importantly to be a potluck in a spiritual sense.

Each person bringing a story, a song, an insight, a passage – something to share.  And no one would have to.

But that was the general idea.  For the building up of all.

I don’t remember all the reasons, but it fizzled out after three or four months.

But it was a profound experience of church in the sense of gathering together, life together.

People came and brought their guitars and songs.

People came and silently listened, giving of their presence.

People asked questions and gave challenging thoughts from their experiences.

People shared their burdens and others gathered around to pray for them.

All this from an invitation to a potluck.

We read in Acts this morning that people shared what they had – held their possessions in common and there were no needy among them --  

And this is connected with the testimony of the resurrection.

“With great power the apostles gave their testimony to the resurrection of the Lord Jesus, and great grace was upon them all.”

A great grace follows from the resurrection – from seeing the rabbit beyond the duck (to use an image from last Sunday)

We reimagine the world, we reimagine ourselves, we reimagine our resources in light of God’s life.

For if we exist in God’s life, nothing not even death itself can separate us from God.

And that has profound implications for how we understand our possessions.

So much of property is owned as a hedge against poverty and death –

We curve in upon ourselves and carry our possessions with us in that posture of defense.

It is out of this defensive posture that hunger arises.

As Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote in his classic, Life Together,

“Not until one person desires to keep his own bread for himself does hunger ensue.”

But this is not the way of Christ.

This is not the Easter faith.

What we see in the early Christian community is not only a sharing of themselves – a potluck of talents and insights and songs and encouraging words and deeds.

But we see a sharing of their goods.  An opening of their hearts and of their hands.

Defying the well-ingrained tendency of humans to horde and hold on for the sake of self preservation.

A great grace was upon them all.

And they shared what they had.  And no one wanted for anything.

This is a troubling vision for a world so bent on private accumulation.

If we are safe in God’s love.

If we are ultimately children of God, able to trust in God’s provision.

We can open our hands, even as God has opened his hands to all living things.

And we can gather in potluck fashion.

Sharing ourselves. Sharing our goods.

And I believe that as we live into that vision

We give testimony to the resurrection of the Lord Jesus,

and a great grace is upon us all.