Thinking of You

Sometimes when looking back on something I’ve written long ago, I think, “How incredibly awful!”  This time, I actually hope that eventually this will be one of those pieces because that will mean that I have become so much wiser than I am now.  Wiser about things I don’t have sufficient answers for now.

It’s a subject I’ve thought of many times, but hesitated to write about; one that most of us would probably rather not think about.  We might even be afraid to admit that, as faithful Christians, we have such thoughts sometimes.  But somewhere along the way, we are bound to encounter the What if?.

Oh, we try our best to always think positively.  We send cheerful “Thinking of You” cards out to those who are facing difficulties, we even promise to pray for them, either personally or as a congregation.  We form prayer chains in the hope that more prayer is better.

But, if we’re honest, sometimes in the back of our minds, fear and doubt have at least a toe, if not a whole foot in the door.  And we hear the raspy whisper, What if?

Although memorization was never a big priority for me as a Sunday School teacher, for some reason I made my 5^th and 6^th graders learn Romans 8:28 one year.  We recited the verse over and over, in lots of different ways, even shouting by the end of class, We know that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose. I must have reasoned that somewhere in their lives, those words might prove to be helpful. Maybe what I was really trying to do was to convince myself that they were true.  I knew that whisper, What if?

Now, I’m not sure if that was a worthwhile exercise; because I would never try to use those words with a boy whose father is dying of cancer, despite the radiation and the chemo, the prayers of the congregation, and the visits from the pastor.  How can you possibly believe them when you’re with a father of three small children whose wife is mysteriously stricken with a rare, sometimes fatal illness?  And are they at all reassuring to a worried parent, when you know that every year some teenagers succeed in committing suicide even though everyone concerned has done their best to prevent it?  How do they sound to the lonely elderly woman who wonders why her husband and only granddaughter both had to die within a few months of one another?

That episode of Little House on the Prairie in which the children are caught in a blizzard leaving school early on Christmas Eve has one scene I've always found particularly heart wrenching.  Everyone rejoices when Mr. Edwards bursts in the door of the schoolhouse after spending the night out alone searching for his children in the blizzard.  Everyone, that is, but the wife and son of the man whose body Charles Ingalls had found earlier, frozen to death. 

Those are the people who came to my mind when a Christian radio station recently played a message from a listener, thanking God for his hand of protection over her husband, who had just narrowly missed being killed in a car accident.  My thoughts went to the listeners who were not so fortunate.  How do they react upon hearing that woman’s story?  Do they wonder why their loved one was apparently lower on God’s priority list?  Do they feel somehow to blame for not asking God’s protection beforehand?  Are they wondering if they’re being punished for something? 

No, that Romans verse isn’t what I’ve turned to when I’ve found myself within earshot of the What if?  Experience has instead taught me a little more about why Psalm 23 provides comfort to so many; because sooner or later, in one way or another, the What if? will happen.  And when it does, there is no way to reason any goodness into the situation, no matter how you frame it.

As much as we would like to fix it, or at least package it more attractively, it doesn’t work.  Muster up all the positive thinking you can, but it won’t change the facts when What if? arrives.  I think that’s why the psalmist calls it the “darkest valley;” it is a place where no light exists, and it sucks in any light in its reach.  All the encouraging platitudes that come drifting through are drowned in its depth.

We cannot avoid going through the dark valley of What if? but hope comes from the presence of the One who is with us through it.  For you are with me (23:4b) are the most powerful words I’ve found in confronting the whisper. 

Because we have a God who is not sitting around somewhere up above waiting for us to get our acts together, to become better, more deserving people.  We have a God who came down to us, here on the earth where we live, as a human like us.  His death and resurrection defeated the darkest valley so that, while we will not avoid it, it does not have the final say.  It does not have the power to consume us.

If you’ve heard me talk about communion before, you know it generates a game-show/infomercial kind of excitement for me. And so, I feel compelled to add, But wait, that’s not all! We have a God who continues to come to us in the sacraments.  Maybe we don’t remember our baptism if we were infants, but in communion we (hopefully, frequently) have that opportunity to experience Christ in both a physical and spiritual way, through our senses of hearing, sight, touch, and taste.  Given for us and remaining with us and in us, communion is at the same time personal as well as shared.

So while it isn’t a celestial slot machine that I can share with you, one that gives you a payoff if only you will just feed it the proper type and amount of currency, there is this, if we go a little farther in Romans:

³⁸ And I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow—not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love. ³⁹ No power in the sky above or in the earth below—indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord.(Romans 8:38-39 NLT)

Longing for Real

OK, I thought the point of watching soap operas was to escape from reality, but apparently two of my favorite daytime dramas are being cancelled and replaced by “programming that is informative and authentic.”  Isn’t life real enough already?  Why do networks keep adding more reality shows?  Apparently, the genre sells.  But why do we seem to have an increasing need for what is “real”?

I listened recently as a man recounted his experience being hospitalized following a stroke.  His voice broke as he described being awake, but unable to respond to those around him.  As a lifelong Christian, he said that he had always known of the love of God through what he had been taught, but it was in those moments of helplessness that God’s love became “real” to him. 

“Jesus loves me this I know, for the bible tells me so” is a familiar song to many.  It was probably one of the first ones learned as a child in Sunday School.  But has the love we have been told about ever moved from being a bit of information stored in our heads to an assurance we carry in our hearts?

Our congregation watched parts of the miniseries “Jesus of Nazareth” during our Wednesday evening Lenten services.  This past week’s installment included the crucifixion.  While I knew in my head that these were just actors that I was watching and therefore not “real,” it still moved me to tears to see Mary at the foot of the cross, helpless as her son hung dying.  It was real enough for me.

As we move now into Holy Week, we will again remember Jesus as he gathers his disciples to share a meal together before he is taken to be crucified.  The disciples seem confused and afraid.  They don’t understand what is going on.  What Jesus gives them is something real that they can hold on to.  “This is my body,” he says, and later, “This is my blood.”  

In the meal on Maundy Thursday, we are given a wafer to see and to touch, wine to taste.  Even though we were not present with the disciples in the Upper Room, Jesus is still present each time we receive the sacrament.  In Holy Communion, we have the Real Presence of Christ.

So I invite you to the very best in reality programming this week, at my church or yours.  Come expecting to encounter Jesus.  He’ll be there.  He is real and ultimately more satisfying than anything you can find on TV.

Obviously, St. Augustine didn’t have television to contend with, but I think he still had a sense of the same kind of longing for something that we will never find in this world when he confessed,

“Thou hast made us for thyself, O Lord,

and our hearts are restless

until they find their rest in thee.”

Come On Down!

Who hasn’t seen “The Price is Right?” Do they not have THE most exuberant contestants of all game shows ever? From the moment their name is called to “Come on down!” they cannot contain their excitement. It bursts out in shouts of joy, in waving arms, in feet that run and legs that can’t stop jumping. And that’s just in response to being chosen as a contestant, before they’ve had a chance to see all the marvelous prizes in store for the winner.

I’ve often wondered why we don’t see this kind of response to the invitation to our Lord’s Table. Isn’t the promise of the presence of Christ, forgiveness of sin and everlasting life at least as compelling as a new washer and dryer? Shouldn’t it generate an even greater response than a fabulous Caribbean cruise? We’re talking about Jesus, the real thing here. At least as Lutherans, we say we believe He is truly present in, with and under the bread and wine.

But you would never be able to tell that by watching us. Eyes downcast, feet shuffling, we look more like kids who’ve been sent to the principal’s office. Maybe we are too focused on our sinfulness and don’t feel we deserve Christ’s gift. Even so, you can’t tell any difference after we’ve received it. I guess then it must be because we’re showing our awe and reverence.

I know that in my own case, the instruction received as a 7-yr-old Catholic kid made me fearful of the whole ordeal. First, we stood in a line against the wall outside the confessional, a scary little room where the priest waited for us, one by one. As we waited in anxiety for our turn, we had to go over each of the Ten Commandments in our minds so we could be prepared to tell how many times we had broken each one. We were warned that in order to receive communion, it was important to have a clean soul, lest you further compound the sin by taking communion with unconfessed stuff still tarnishing your record. I never did ask what we were supposed to do about sins that snuck their way in between the confession and communion.

Once absolved and on our way our way up the aisle with our hands tightly folded, we had to be careful not to let our eyes stray in case some other kid made a face at us, breaking our focus and causing us to smile or snicker. Sister made it clear that this was serious business and we had better do it right, because God is always watching.

Thanks be to God, the pain and the negativity of our past can be overcome and transformed. What was once a dreaded part of church is now a much-anticipated event for me. I look forward to it and feel a kind of emptiness if I miss the opportunity for some reason. To me, it is the highlight of the worship service, so if someday you see someone skipping down the aisle, I hope you’ll forgive my irreverence and see that I couldn’t contain my joy any longer.

Do you have doubts that are preventing you from experiencing the unconditional love of Christ through communion? I invite you to trust in God’s words from Isaiah, chapter 43, verse 1

Do not fear, for I have redeemed you;

I have called you by name, you are mine.

“Come on down” and join me at the table, where the Body and Blood of Christ is given for YOU!