"Be Not Afraid"

What follows is the sermon I offered tonight at a Vespers Service at Arbor Terrace-Decatur.  I thought there might be a few folks out there who would gain something from this -- I gained from the writing of it...

"Be Not Afraid"

Sermon for Arbor Terrace – Decatur

Vespers: August 25, 2013

Isaiah 41:8-10

But you, Israel, my servant,

            Jacob, whom I have chosen,
            the offspring of Abraham, my friend;
You whom I took from the ends of the earth,
            and called from its farthest corners,
saying to you, "You are my servant,
            I have chosen you and not cast you off";
do not fear, for I am with you,
            do not be afraid, for I am your God;
I will strengthen you, I will help you,
            I will uphold you with my victorious right hand.

Lamentations 3:55-58

I called on your name, O Lord,

            from the depths of the pit;
you heard my plea, "Do not close your ear
            to my cry for help, but give me relief!"
You came near when I called on you;
            you said, "Do not fear!"
You have taken up my cause, O Lord,
            you have redeemed my life.

Romans 8:12-17

 ¹²So then, brothers and sisters, we are debtors, not to the flesh, to live according to the flesh—¹³for if you live according to the flesh, you will die; but if by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live. ¹⁴For all who are led by the Spirit of God are children of God. ¹⁵For you did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received a spirit of adoption.  When we cry, "Abba! Father!" ¹⁶it is that very Spirit bearing witness with our spirit that we are children of God, ¹⁷and if children, then heirs, heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ—in fact, we suffer with him so that we may also be glorified with him.

             Depending on whether you watch the news or not, you may have heard of Antoinette Tuff.  Ms. Tuff is the school bookkeeper at Ronald E. McNair Discovery Learning Academy in Decatur.  This past Tuesday afternoon, Ms. Tuff stepped beyond her fear and into her reliance on God's promises.  This past Tuesday afternoon, Ms. Tuff shared her faith, her story, her courage with a young man determined to kill.

            Normally, Antoinette Tuff does not sit where she was sitting that afternoon.  She was relieving the School Secretary. Ms. Tuff came face to face with the young man who had managed to come into the School with the intent of killing adults and children – over 800 individuals.  Ms. Tuff admits that the first thing she did was begin praying for him. 

            In an interview with Channel Two News, Ms. Tuff shares that she remembered her pastor teaching the congregation about "anchoring in the Lord" when listening and talking with anyone in a crisis.  So, that's exactly what Antoinette Tuff did.  She began by praying for him and herself and for the students and teachers in that building and for the police outside.  She encouraged the young man to talk about what he was thinking, about why he was thinking it.  By listening, she opened a door to salvation for him – and for the all of the children and teachers in that building.

            In her conversation with this young man, Antoinette Tuff reflected on her own losses and difficulties.  In doing so, she allowed her life, her authenticity to inform her compassion in this frightful, fearful situation. 

            At one point, in response to the young man saying that he didn't have anyone who loved him, Ms. Tuff assured him that even as she did not "know" him, she did, indeed, love him.  Antoinette Tuff expressed Christ's love to this hurting, broken young man.  In doing so, he was able to begin believing that the situation could change, that the outcome could be something different than what he had believed when he arrived. 

            In her own words, Ms. Tuff shared that it "wasn't nobody but God;" that "through His grace and mercy" she kept it together.  Because of Antoinette Tuff's ability to call upon her faith, upon God's grace and mercy, to keep it together, in her position as front line defense, over 800 children and adults were kept from harm and a young man – broken and fearful --  was kept from a sure death. 

            Be not afraid.

            In our text from Isaiah, Yahweh is now speaking comfort and reassurance to the exiles – after 150 years of fearful, distraught silence and degradation!  Yahweh reminds them that He has chosen them and has not cast them off.   Yahweh makes several powerful promises:

            Do not fear – I am with you.

            Do not be afraid – I am your God.
            I will strengthen you.
            I will help you.
            I will uphold you.

One of my favorite hymns is Standing on the Promises, especially the second and last verses:

2.

Standing on the promises that cannot fail,
When the howling storms of doubt and fear assail,
By the living Word of God I shall prevail,
Standing on the promises of God.

Refrain:
Standing, standing,
Standing on the promises of God my Savior;
Standing, standing,
I’m standing on the promises of God.

5.

Standing on the promises I cannot fall,
List’ning every moment to the Spirit’s call,
Resting in my Savior as my all in all,
Standing on the promises of God.

            This is what Antoinette Tuff did.  She stood upon the promises of God.  God was there.  Where in our lives are we truly, remarkably standing upon the promises of God?  Each and every day there are occasions to see this, to experience the strength, the hope, the promises of God.  We have to stay alert.  We have to "listen every moment to the Spirit's call."

            The circumstances of the Spirit's call in each of our lives most likely will never be as dramatic and newsworthy as Ms. Tuff's.  However, those circumstances will most likely be as spiritually significant to us and to those we encounter as what happened in the School Front Office.  A testimony, a listening heart, a wounded soul -- how often do we encounter and offer that combination?

            Do not fear, for I am with you.

            Lamentations is a hymn-book for the Israelites.  Our text comes straight from a version of "Standing on the Promises" you might say. 

⁵⁵I called on your name, O Lord,

            from the depths of the pit;
⁵⁶you heard my plea, "Do not close your ear
            to my cry for help, but give me relief!"
⁵⁷You came near when I called on you;
            you said, "Do not fear!"
⁵⁸You have taken up my cause, O Lord,
            you have redeemed my life.

            When we are in our fearful places, do we call upon God's name? When we hear the Spirit's call and we are in a crisis, do we trust that God is listening?

            Antoinette Tuff trusted, she had faith that God was in that room; she had faith that God was listening, and that God would give her the words to share with this young man.  "⁵⁸You have taken up my cause, O Lord, you have redeemed my life."

            In our most worrisome, frightened moments, we can trust, we can have faith that God is present, that God hears our cries, that God will take up our cause, that God will redeem our lives.

            How?  How do we know that?  How can we have that trust, that faith?

            We do this, we know this because through Christ, we are alive.  Through Christ, we have received a spirit of adoption – not a spirit of slavery, of fear.  As Paul said to the Romans, "^15bWhen we cry 'Abba! Father!,' ¹⁶it is that very Spirit bearing witness with our spirit that we are children of God, ¹⁷and if children, then heirs, heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ…"

            He is ours and we are His.  Through this new relationship, this new covenant, we are promised that we are never alone, that we are working toward the inbreaking of a glorious world – one of love and compassion and understanding, full of grace and mercy.

            Where in your life will you pray, listen, share, and be the living Word of God for someone who is in need of God's grace and mercy?

            In the words of Antoinette Tuff, there "wasn't nobody but God;" that "through His grace and mercy" she kept it together.

            We are not alone.  God is with us.

            Be not afraid!

Time to Sit with God

While sitting with my spiritual friend this afternoon, he said that he felt it was time for me to sit with God for a while.  You see, I find myself at a confluence of thought, emotion, spiritual questing, and physical tiredness.

A confluence is a meeting of two or more flowing water sources -- at least in my experience that's what it is.  My use of that word is very deliberate.  In my experience of my own thought processes, the way my emotions work, the spiritual journey I've been on, and the way my body responds to stress, it's all flowing.  I have been learning to go with the flow of my life rather than pushing the river.  So, you can tell, I'm all over the water metaphors!

The undercurrents of a confluence can be very strong, confusing -- misdirecting -- exhausting.  I've been struggling with having a divided heart and mind about my relationship with God and how I accomplish God's work given to me in the world.  Apparently, it is time for me to sit with God.

Now, when I sit with God, when my mind and heart and soul are full, I don't converse with God.  I simply sit and listen.  Admittedly, I do begin my time sitting with a prayer of thanksgiving, of submission, of opening my heart to hear.  Then...I listen.

It's amazing what I hear.  The simplest things become rich, music-like.  The rustling of tree leaves, the honk of a goose, the crunch on pavement of someone walking, the smell of whatever is in the air at a given moment, the feel of the chair, bench, ground that I'm sitting on -- all of these sensory experiences wrap me and invite me to drop deeper into an experience of God's presence than I normally allow. 

That's when the silence envelopes me.  A silence that is thick and sweet.  A silence that is permeated by love, pure love, indescribable in its acceptance and unconditional essence.  The love of the universe.  In this spot, I hear, I receive -- what I can seldom verbalize, yet when I return to the world, things are clearer, struggling is gone, acceptance and submission are possible and a joy, a sublime joy permeates my heart and my spirit.  Answers to my questions may or may not be present, may or may not have risen to the top of my consciousness, but joy is there.

Gratitude.  Grace.  Amen and Amen.

Sinking and Fear

I have recently compared my experience of this time of transition in my spiritual journey to that of floating on the water.  When I'm relaxed and capable of just being with the flow, the water, myself, God, I float along just fine.  However, when I tense up, try to control the flow, begin to worry, or want to "know," when my trust falters, I sink. 

Now, we all know what happens to new swimmers when they feel themselves beginning to sink, right?  They flounder, they flail around, grasping for whatever they can hold onto, to once again feel safe.  Over the last week, I have flailed around, grasping for whatever I can find to hold onto, to once again feel safe, secure, wanted, needed, remembered...all of those very human emotions.

This all reached a pinnacle last night.  As I lay in my bed fearful, full of doubt, questioning everything, I was drawn to examen.  I realized then that God was in control and I should allow God to do what God wanted!  As I reviewed my day, I was reminded of so many acts of grace that I experienced, of the grace I received, of the reminders that I am in the hearts of many people.  I was shown that I will not be forgotten. 

I went to sleep reassured.  I woke this morning to a feeling of well-being that has been absent for about a week now.  Nice.  My "work" for this week is to allow God to heal the fear in my heart of being forgotten.  I'll be spending some time on that this week. 

The other word I received is "slow" -- as in slow down, slow process, slow (and deep) work ahead. I see those bright yellow caution signs for road work.  Ah yes.  Road work.  Ufdah.

Being a Wounded Healer

I am a wounded healer.  I have been a caregiver in some capacity all my life.  God has gifted me with the capacity to listen with a compassionate heart.  I use those gifts every day.

Recently, I posted the following on my Facebook account: Ham salad...check; deviled eggs...check.
I've hit a wall. I've refused to think about why I was preparing these foods. I'll go get a shower and let it all out. I'm tired of death. I'm tired of grieving. Ufdah. Love you all out there. God's solace is there for me, too. Please keep the Delk family in your prayers.   I was instructed by two things: (1) the limited response to that post that I received on Facebook and (2) the rousing response I received to that post off Facebook. 

As caregivers, we are strong.  Yet, also as caregivers, we are broken.  Part of supporting caregivers is allowing them to be wherever they are -- strong or broken or a little bit of both.  Be not surprised!

Over the last 8 weeks, I have lost three people who have been very deeply embeded in my heart.  The first was Lonnie, an older gentleman who had been a mentor and friend; the second was Wesley, a member of my dance community killed in a senseless act of violence; and the third was Lyman, an elder-emeritus at my church, a man who always had a kind, supportive word for me.  My grieving work has only just begun.

I have posted previously this summer about the importance of doing that work--the work of grieving.  Of allowing it all to be there, to come in its waves, and to recede.  Now comes the part of being a wounded healer.  I cannot separate the two.  I am wounded, yes.  Yet, I am a healer too.  I found myself three weeks ago desperately wanting to be able to separate those two, yet not really.  God has given me the ability to listen, to be present to others in their grief, to pray, to say what needs to be heard.  I simply cannot, at this time in my spiritual journey, say no to God.

God gifts us with abilities and desires us to use them as needed.  So even in our own grief, we can speak from a place of compassion for others--AND OURSELVES.  Even though we are healers, it is important for each and every caregiver to realize that compassion is there for us as well as those for whom we care.  God's perfect solace is there for others--AND OURSELVES, as we grieve the losses in our lives.  We must remember to open our hearts just a titch and allow that solace to seep into the  wounds we carry.

Yes, I am a caregiver.  I am a wounded healer.  I live. I love.  I lose.  I grieve.  I listen.  I pray.  God is there.  God is good.  All the time.

Grace abounds,
Daphne

Life Lived in Lectio

Lectio Divina...divine reading...reading in a way that pays attention to divine presence...listening to what radiates in one's heart and soul...imagine living your every day life in such a way.  Being aware.  Being awake.  Knowing God is present.

For me, that's why there are certain spiritual practices I love.  I love praying the daily offices; I love reading scripture (and lots of other texts) in lectio; I crave prayer time; I love to pause and listen.  I get filled with joy when I realize that I've most likely heard something "right."  I get filled with Spirit's happiness when I go and be and do what God has asked of me.

Discernment is a daily exercise because we are never done. Our journeys are one day of discernment followed by another.  Each day, we be and do the best we can in response to our experience of God's guidance.  Today I heard a sermon on the feeling of the "next thing."  I left that service all aglow...I had had a lectio moment.  Actually, I had experienced several lectio moments.  Several phrases had radiated for me -- "Here I am Lord,"  "restore the joy," "the next thing," "Amazing Grace," "clean slate," "broken and poured out for me" -- WOW!

This morning as I was preparing myself for worshipping with a new and different community of faith, I had drawn three prayer words from my stash.  They were "patience," "joy," and "mercy."  As I have been reflecting on my worship experience, those words have come back to me.  Patience with whom or what?  My children?  The "process"?  Joy...yeah...JOY!  Mercy.  Mercy is another hard one.  Mercy with others in my life who will have a difficult transition as we find a new faith community--including those we leave behind as well as those we join?  Mercy.  That's a word that's packed with meaning, one that I will be praying on and living with over the next few days. 

I have faith that the coming days will be filled with moments of insight and clarity and understanding; I also accept that the coming days will most likely have moments of doubt, fear, regret...and...perhaps, Mercy.

A life lived in lectio is a life filled with grace and gratitude, tears and joy, doubt and wonder.  A life lived in lectio is a life lived listening.