A few Sundays ago, I
was privileged to speak in our church. What I love about this is the
preparation. I love studying the scriptures and then relating those scriptures
to my own story and our collective Christian journey.
I put a short,
modified excerpt of it here mainly for me. To remember. To be encouraged. And to
be sorrowful when I do not live the life that I preach:
Raindrops on roses and
whiskers on kittens
Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens
Brown paper packages tied up with strings
Brown paper packages tied up with strings
These are a few of my favorite things
Cream colored ponies and crisp apple streudels
Doorbells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with
noodles
Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings
These are a few of my favorite things
Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes
Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes
Silver white winters that melt into springs
These are a few of my favorite things
When the dog bites
When the bee stings
When I'm feeling sad
I simply remember my favorite things
And then I don't feel so bad
Jesus has been born and being the father of this
newborn has changed Joseph’s life completely. He looks at this baby boy, Jesus,
with love. He would do anything in his power to protect him. He doesn’t want
this child to suffer, ever. Joseph’s heart breaks a little when he cries and
watches as Mary tenderly consoles him. But his heart trembles with anxiety and
worry. What child starts out life being born away from home and family and in an
old barn with livestock. And yes, if this child is really the Messiah and the
prophecies come true, the life of his son and his wife will be full of pain and
misunderstanding.
And now this dream, this frightful dream which
foretells of the threat of death that Herod is to Jesus. Joseph must gather his
family in the middle of the night and flee. This was not the dream he had planned
or hoped for for himself, his lovely Mary and certainly not for their baby boy.
Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens, bright
copper kettles and warm woolen mittens…
I cannot imagine that the advice of the governess Maria would do Joseph
very well on this fearful night. Joseph’s favorite things, his dreams, or his
“happy place” would not bring any amount of peace or solace.
A number of years ago I became familiar with the
ethicist and theologian James McClendon. He’s not very widely known as he wasn't a prolific writer; but what he did publish was insightful, scholarly and
at times profound. In one of his
writings he talks about the virtue of
presence. What it meant to be present
and to be present for someone in our Christian witness.
McClendon said “Presence is being one’s self for someone
else; it is refusing the temptation to withdraw mentally and emotionally.” The virtue of presence is basically being
here and being real. It is about emotional and spiritual space, not just
physical space.
We can all recall
times when we have been with a friend, a spouse, a child, and though he or she was
right next to you or across from you, they were not with you. Their mind was
somewhere else. Not necessarily because
of a phone in their hand or the football game playing on the screen over your
head, but their heart was distracted. They were listening and responding
accordingly, but not present.
When we are present
with someone it is about being sensitive to what’s going on around you, and not
just in you.
I admit it is hard
to always be consciously present with someone. The vibration of the phone in my
pocket, my worries about a forthcoming class, or the shop I need to get to
before it closes – these distractions keep my heart from being with your heart.
I have to and must
make an effort when I am with someone to be present with them: to hear them and
to feel them; to not come with my agenda and anxieties, but to listen to their
heart; to not be sorrowful about the past or anxious about the future, but to
be present right then and there.
Presence does not
always have words. It does not always need actions. It is understanding. And
sometimes not understanding, but trying. Presence is an available shoulder to
cry on, hand to hold, ear to listen. It is “putting our own
body’s weight and shape alongside
the neighbor, the friend, the lover in need.”
Immanuel, God with
us, came to earth. Lived our lives. He knows our messed up world. He took our
shape. He aligned himself up next to us and said, “I understand. I have been
there and I am here.” His presence was real and with us.
As believers we are
called to be Christ to others. To be present, to embody the love, grace and
forgiveness that Jesus came to be. We are called to carry the light of hope in
a world that is pressed down with hopelessness to people who have forgotten or
chosen not to believe.
Our presence must be
real to those who do not know Christ. Our presence must be real to each one of
us sitting here today, it expresses to our sisters and brothers that we are
indeed family. With the same bump and bruises and struggles of any family, but
because of Christ we journey together in love and hope. And we care for the
person sitting next to us, in front of us, behind us, up here behind the
pulpit, behind the soundboard in the nursery, in the Sunday School classes.
Keith and Denise Jones. Joyce DeRidder. Joe Ann
Shelton. Parush Parushev. Mark Vroegop. Jeannette Wolters.
These are people, whom you may not know and may
never meet. They live in different states and different countries. These are
names and faces of people who have been present for me. They have been with me
through tears and trials. At different points along my Christian journey, they
have held my hand and guided me through open doors. They gathered around me and
cared and prayed and showed me that in the mess of life there is hope, there is
joy, and there is peace. This is what
Jesus looks like today.
Look around you here today. [remember, you’re at
church ;)] Take a moment to remember those who are not here. Bring to mind
others, individuals and communities who have walked with you at some point in your
journey, who have been present. Who were to you, Jesus with skin.
Jesus was born to Joseph and Mary who were in the
midst of an unsettling, but exciting story. They did not know what came next in
their journey, but they held Immanuel in their arms. Whatever their next step,
whatever darkness and trouble came, they knew God was with them.
When the tears that fill your eyes blur the road
ahead. When sorrow has such a hold on you that you can’t imagine days getting
any better. Look around you. [still at church!] We have each other. We have the
body of Christ - sisters and brothers who will hold our hands, let us rest our
head on their shoulders. Who will embody the Christian story and be present. We
have Jesus with skin, God with us.
I can go without raindrops on roses and whiskers on
kittens. Girls in white dresses and
snowflakes will not make me hope for better days. They will not calm the sting
of the bee or lessen the pain of a dog bite.
But I have you, my sisters and brothers you, the
body of Christ, you are my favorite things.
