Amazing Grace

            I tell folks who come to me with a heavy burden that God is more interested in where we are going than where we have been. Show me a hero and it will often be someone who previously fell on hard times. In The Greatest Generation Tom Brokaw highlighted the heroics of young men and woman of World War II. What we fail to remember is those same folks lived through the Great Depression. For them, sacrifice was not an option. It was a way of life.  When the stock market fell in 1929 the initial response was counting on businesses to find a way to keep workers employed. This proved ineffective. By 1932 unemployment was over 30%. In 1933 massive dust storms hit the southwest which destroyed farmlands and caused the population to flee east and west. Eventually federal programs were put into place which called on Americans to reinvest in hard work and trust in each other. From 1929 until 1938 hard times plagued the soul of America. But hard times also reinvented the soul of America. We can marvel at the willingness of the 16 million Americans who responded in 1941 to the call to arms. But it is also fair to ask if they would have responded so willingly if they had not been the children of the Great Depression?

I wonder how we will respond once the Coronavirus has been “defeated”.  The Great Depression was caused in large part by economic greed coupled with an environmental nightmare. The initial shots of World War II were seeds of political revenge sowed at Versailles. The Coronavirus has no economic or political agenda yet as a country we have been divided by political and economic differences. This horror has forced us to come together as a people. Once this pandemic has passed will it be back to business as usual? Or from the ashes will a new greatest generation arise?

The night before January 1, 1773, John Newton was preparing a New Year’s Sermon for his congregation. The text was I Chronicles 17. King David had established his throne in Jerusalem and The Arc of the Covenant placed in a tent. David decided it was time to give the Arc a permanent place of residence, but God had other plans. The king was told it would be the son, not the father who would build the Temple. The title of Newton’s sermon was “Past Mercies and Future Hopes.”  The sermon’s secondary text was Psalm 86:11. “Teach me Your ways that I might walk in Your truth.”

John Newton did not begin his life with thoughts of becoming either a minister or musician. Past mercies led to that decision. His father was a sea captain. At eleven the boy made his first voyage. Newton’s life at sea was somewhat precarious. He fled from his father’s domination and signed on with another ship. Later he was forced to join the Royal Navy. When he attempted to desert he was captured and whipped for insubordination. After being thrown out of the Navy, he joined the crew of a slave ship. They hated him so much he was left behind in Africa by the crew and Newton was enslaved by an African Queen.  Once he escaped Newton went back to working for slave ships. He was the captain of a ship caught in a storm Newton, certain that he was going to die, had a conversion experience. According to a popular legend, when the storm subsided it is believed he sailed his cargo back to Africa. On the journey to England he composed the song Amazing Grace. This makes for a great movie and Broadway play but it is far from the truth. Newton was involved in a storm. He had a conversion experience but he did not give up his life as a seller of slaves until some years later. Eventually he entered seminary, took a church and wrote such songs as “Glorious Things of Thee are Spoken.”

Twenty years after his conversion, on the eve of New Year’s Day, Newton begins writing a sermon. The words, “Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me,” came to him. Was he thinking of his days as a sailor?  There is no mention in the sermon of his being involved in the slave trade. Truth is it would be 60 years before slavery would be abolished in Great Britain. The final decision by the English government was hardly a moral one. By 1833 the Industrial Revolution simply made slavery unprofitable. All we know is on that New Year’s Eve Newton reviewed his life. He had been deserted, accused of treason, beaten, sold into slavery, and become a slaver. He had escaped death at least three times. Now in the comfort of his own home he writes, “Through many dangers, toils, and snares, I have already come. Tis grace has brought me safe thus far, and grace will lead me home.” The words of the Psalmist, “Teach me Your ways that I might walk in Your truth”, burned in his soul.

Fortunately the song was not the end of the story. I would like to think it was the beginning. Fifteen year later Newton wrote a pamphlet which he sent to Parliament titled, Thoughts Upon the Slave Trade. He wrote, “I offer a confession, which comes too late, on a subject which is a source of great personal humiliation. I was an active instrument in a business about which my heart now shudders.” From that day until his death Newton threw all his energy into abolishing the slave trade. “The Lord has promised good to me; his word my hope secures. He will my shield and portion be as long as life endures.

Newton was an old man when he became an abolitionist.  While the myth of his taking slaves back to Africa as a young man after a conversion experience plays well in the theatres, during this last week of Lent, I believe the real story serves us  better. One is never too old to hear the voice of God. Right now we are all spending too much time watching CNN, FOX, and the stock market. We think that our lives are dependent on economic and political decisions over which we have little control. In a couple months, when the virus has passed, we will slip back into our blue or red shirts and resume our ancient ways of thinking. We will forget our promise to examine God’s ways and walk in God’s truth. Our mantra will once again become, “You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.” We will have forgotten that for a moment we inconvenienced ourselves to protect the weak. We will have forgotten we made extra phone calls to encourage the lonely. We will have forgotten that we came together as a nation rather than fighting as tribes. So before we forget, right now in the midst of this chaos, how will we become heroic in the months to come? Perhaps the first step is to walk in the light of God.

Wade In the Water

Dear Friends:

                At Rockfish Presbyterian we can close our doors but not our hearts. Thank you for all you are doing and are willing to do to help the folks in our community. We live on more than bread alone. What I promise to send to you each week is some spiritual food until we can worship together again. It includes a Psalm, prayer, scripture for the day, a meditation and some music. If you can’t get the link to work call me. (Jamie had to show me). Be save but live without fear. Do that by always making a joyful noise to the Lord.

Louie – 434-882-0977

 

 

            The central event for Christians is the death and resurrection of Jesus. In this time of pandemic fear, the idea of death weighs heavy upon our hearts. While we live in an isolated community, we are very reliant on our health care system. Just this week three of our members made non-virus related trips to UVA. We are at that age where no news is good news when it comes to our health. On a normal day we are often aware of another neighbor with health issues. These days are not normal. Death is upon us. A financial crisis is upon us. We pray for a vaccine, an economic stimulus, a return to the way things were. The truth is, tomorrow will never be the same as yesterday. We need a cure. So we pray for a resurrection.

            The central event of the Old Testament is the Exodus. You know the story. The children of Abraham freely entered the land of Egypt to escape a shortage of food due to drought. They overstayed their welcome and eventually lost their freedom. The Hebrew people became a nation of slaves, dependent on the mercy of Pharaoh. Eventually Pharaoh showed no mercy.

            In their distress, the children of Abraham cried out. After generations in slavery, the Hebrews had forgotten the name of their God. But Yahweh had not forgotten them. Yahweh heard their cries and responded by sending Moses. In a drama worthy of any Greek play, the power of Pharaoh is dismantled by the will of Yahweh. Insects invaded the land, the Nile River turned blood red, yet Pharaoh refused to admit defeat. Finally the Angel of Death descends on the land. The Hebrew’s are instructed to place the blood of a sacrificial lamb on their tents so the Angel will pass over their habitat. Every other family, including Pharaoh’s, suffered the tragic loss of the first born son. Devastated by the loss, Pharaoh ordered the Hebrew out of Goshen. Lead by Moses, they begin their march toward freedom and the Promised Land.

But freedom is never easy. Pharaoh’s grief evolved into anger. He assembled an army of his finest charioteers and gave the orders that not one Hebrew slave was to escape their sword. Imagine the fear that must have arisen in the hearts of the Hebrew people when they saw the dust of the chariots speeding their way. No one mistook the dust as a mission of mercy. Before them was the Red Sea. Behind them was certain death. In their fear they turned on Moses. “Why did you bring us out here to die?” Chaos began to reign within the ranks. Folks were frozen in their tracks trying to decide which death was preferable, the sword or drowning.

Moses lifted his rod and held it out over the sea. I like to think he sang, “Wade in the water. Wade in the water children, Wade in the water. God’s gonna trouble the water.” Well that is not the way it actually happened. This was a song sung to another set of slaves as they tried to discover their own promised land.

Some of our favorite songs come from “Black Spirituals”. W.E.B. DuBois calls this the only original American music. That is certainly debatable but our hymn book would be lacking if it didn’t contain such songs as There is a Balm in Gilead, When Israel was in Egypt’s Land, and I Want Jesus to Walk with Me. A couple of weeks ago our choir sang, My Lord Daniel, Why Can’t He Deliver Me. Each song comes from a people longing for divine liberation. The purpose of the spirituals was to convince the singers that fear contradicts the will of God. To a person in chains, nothing elicits more fear than the wrath of the owner.

Wade in the Water embellishes the image of the Red Sea Story in order to help runaway slaves take a critical step toward freedom. A runaway knew if they were captured death might be the most pleasant punishment. Runaways were used as examples to keep the rest of the captives in line. If captured, the runaway would be beaten within an inch of her life. In most cases, the owner was willing to lose one slave in order to insure the rest of his capital remained obedient. After being beaten, the slave would often be chained to a tree and given only enough water to remain alive until a lesson had been learned by others. Eventually the slave died. Sometimes the lifeless body would be hung from a tree as a further reminder of the fate of the disobedient.

Imagine how much courage it would have taken to have risk escape. Many owners trained dogs to run down escapees. The horrific howls of the hounds could be heard as they jubilantly picked up the scent of their objective. The only way to escape the hounds was to find a river or stream. But this created its own quandary. The must enter the water in the darkness. Sometimes the waters ran quickly. Worst of all few if any of the slaves knew how to swim. Pharaohs Army was howling behind them. The waters of chaos were standing in front of them. Both options offered death. And so they sang, “Wade in the water. Wade in the water children. Wade in the water. God’s gonna trouble the water.”

I love the line “God’s gonna trouble the water.” That seems to imply still water will become turbulent. In Old Testament vernacular bodies of water were feared. A storm could cause a tranquil stream to become a vehicle of death. When the poet sings, “God’s gonna trouble the water”, she means God will step inside the chaos and create hope. Moses stretched his rod across the sea and it opened. The slaves escaped and then the sea of chaos destroyed the chariots of Pharaoh. When American slaves stepped into the water, the dogs could not follow their scent. The dogs became useless as an agent of fear.

None of us can comprehend what it must be like to live the life of a slave. But we know a whole lot about fear. The numbers coming out of Italy are devastating. As a group of older folks, we are the prime target of this virus. Thankfully it seems the virus is finally being taken seriously. Each day we hear more test and more ventilators will be available. We know the health steps each of us must take to protect ourselves and the vulnerable. But fear still exists. We can’t see the virus but we can read the predictions and they are horrifying. That said, I promise you one thing, this virus will not be defeated by fear.

We need to think beyond ourselves. Each day give thanks for the health care workers who are on the front lines.

Each day pick up the phone and call a church member living alone.

Each day continue good health practices.

Each day think of a new way to displace fear with hope.

Rather than giving in and believing you are between a rock and a hard place, wade in the waters. Allow your faith to be a troubling agent against this chaos.

 

 

As a closing prayer listen to Eva Cassidy

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9-hKDYQ6F54

Precious Lord, Take My Hand

Psalm 13

 

        Just before I make my way to the pulpit to conduct a funeral service, the funeral director will hand me a document titled the Clergy Record. It contains among other things the name of the deceased, date of death, and a list of survivors. If someone had handed me a Clergy Record Tuesday it would have read, “Dorothy Jane Gober Andrews, died March 10^th, 2020. She was survived by four children, their spouses, seven grandchildren, and four great grandchildren. She was preceded in death by her husband.” Everything on the Clergy Record is correct. But it tells you nothing about my Mom.

        Mom first laid eyes on my father when she was in the eighth grade. The Andrews clan had just moved to Cedartown, Georgia. According to Mom it was love at first sight. Not even World War II could keep them apart. On Dad’s return from Europe, they were married and eventually started a family. Dad ended up in seminary and served three churches. Mom began the most thankless job known to humankind, the wife of a preacher.

        She raised four children. The three girls were a handful. The son was perfect. Mom and Dad were married for over seventy years.  He received all the accolades. She held everything together. Mom was the embodiment of beauty and grace. She surrendered herself to the role of wife and mother and the five of us became better people because of her sacrifice. Last Tuesday, every person she had ever known felt empty as she quietly passed from us. 

This is the story we would like to discover behind each Clergy Record.  But sometimes life deals a cruel hand.

        Thomas Dorsey was a brilliant gospel musician in the 1930’s. His genius as a pianist was known throughout the Midwest. He was the first African-American to transcribe gospel music and make it available to local congregations. Dorsey is known as the Father of Gospel music. His wife’s name was Nettie. She grew up in the church and loved to sing in the choir. Together they composed songs that are still sung in churches today.

        In 1932 Nellie became pregnant with their first child. They were living in a small apartment on Chicago’s Southside. Dorsey had been asked to lead the music at a huge revival in St. Louis. Reluctantly he left Nellie and traveled south. The next evening, after the service was over, he was handed a telephone and heard these devastating words. “Your wife just died.” After making a call to confirm the news a friend drove him back to Chicago. There he learned his wife had gone into labor prematurely. The doctors had delivered a son but could not save Nellie. The following evening, the child died. After burying his wife and child in the same coffin, Dorsey fell apart. He later wrote, “For days I locked myself in my house. I felt God had done me a great injustice. I swore I would never write or sing another gospel song. I decided to use my talents in jazz clubs and drown my sorrow in smoke and alcohol.”

        A few days later Dorsey went to a local music school and asked if he could borrow a piano for the afternoon.  Dorsey wrote, “It was quiet. The late evening sun crept through the windows. I sat down at the piano and my hands began to run over the keys. Then something happened. I felt a peace come over my soul. As I touched the piano I felt I was actually touching God. I found myself playing a melody I had never heard or played before. And then the words just fell into place and I began to sing.”

        Precious Lord, take my hand,

        Lead me on, help me stand.

        I am tired, I am weak, I am worn.

        Through the storm, through the night,

        Lead me on to the light,

        Precious Lord, take my hand,

        Lead me home.

 

(Stop)

 

        When the Clergy Records proclaims, “She lived 93 years and is survived by four children, seven grandchildren, and four great grand children,” the appropriate song of praise is Psalm 100.

                Make a joyful noise to the Lord.

                Worship the Lord with gladness.

                Come into God’s presence with praise.

                For the Lord is good;

                God’s steadfast love endures forever.

                God’s faithfulness is to all generations.

 

        But sometimes the Clergy Record reads, “He lived one day and was preceded in death by his mother.” That is when our Bibles fall open to Psalm 13.

               

How long O Lord will you forget me?

                How long will you hide your face from me?

                How long must I bear pain in my soul?

                Answer Me!

                Give light to my eyes or I shall die.

 

The after a long pause the Psalmist continues.

 

                I trust in your steadfast love.

                My heart shall rejoice in your salvation.

                I will sing to the Lord.

 

        For the Psalmist the pause did cease quickly. Sometimes there is a need to “Rage against the dying of the light.” The uniqueness found in the Psalms of Lament is the rage of the poet against God. Something horrific has happened. The poet believed the tragedy could have been avoided if God had not been absent. Remember the story of Lazarus? When Lazarus died and Jesus finally showed up Martha screamed, “Where were you? My brother would not have died if you had been here.”

       

        Psalms of Lament were not written by a person with a shallow faith. The poet has a deep resounding belief that when she enters “The valley of the shadow of death” the presence of God will be with her. When the poet feels deserted …… betrayed ….. vile words of anger gush forth. “Where were you” is not a question. It is an accusation addressing God’s irresponsible absence.

        Then there is silence as we wait until hell itself freezes over for a response. Eventually the angst begins to cool, the anger begins to withdraw, and our vision begins to return. We extend our hands toward the source of our salvation placing our fingers on the keys of life itself. Quietly, ever so quietly, we hear ourselves begin to sing,

                Hear my cry, hear my call,

                Hold my hand, lest I fall,

                Take my hand, precious Lord,

                Lead me home.

 

Amen

Lord, Listen to Your Children Praying

Matthew 4:1-11

 

        Music touches our heart in a variety of ways. Sometimes we just like the beat. Remember the first time you heard Nancy Sinatra sing, “These Boots are made for Walking”. You had no vindictive rage against anyone, but I bet the steady back-beat sent for feet to walking.

        Sometimes it is the tune. I don’t even have to like the song. When “Staying Alive” by the Bee Gees invades my radio I quickly change the station. TOO LATE! I can’t get the blasted tune out my head for the rest of the day.

        For me, it is the lyrics. Some of my favorites are Kris Kristofferson’s “Help Me Make it through the Night”,   Joni Mitchell’s “Both Sides Now”, Springsteen’s “The River”. These are songs that interpret my story. They are not casual lyrics created from nothing. They are gut wrenching expressions of pain followed by eventual reclamation.

        Most great songs have a back story. Lyricists harness emptiness through well placed words offering a road less taken. Guy Clark shares a difficult incident with his wife.

        She ain’t going nowhere, she’s just leaving.

        She ain’t going nowhere she can’t breathe in.

        She ain’t going home and that’s for sure.

 

        Through the Sundays of Lent we are going to look at songs we sing on Sunday morning. Each has a back story. I have tied them to a piece of scripture. Sometimes the relationship between text and song are obvious. Sometimes, like this morning, I had had to be a bit creative.

        The back story to Jesus’ time in the wilderness is the years the Israelites wandered through the desert. They left Egypt a broken people going nowhere. Eventually they left the wilderness and headed for a new home. When reading Exodus we discover a people with no sense of direction or dreams. They wanted out of the wilderness but hardly knew which way to turn. A three days journey took years. Most of them died. But in the desert a nation was born. They crossed the Jordan with a purpose.

        Jesus also stepped into the wilderness. The Jesus portrayed by the Gospel of John knows the path he must take and time in the desert is not necessary. The Jesus of Matthew, Mark, and Luke is more like us. Each of us believes we know and understand God. Lent offers the chance to discover the God beyond our understanding. Jesus will not remain in the desert very long. But he needs time to understand what it will mean to cross the Jordan.

        He walks into the wilderness without water or food. Hunger is a powerful opponent. I suspect most of us have gone on a diet. Most of us barely lasted a day. Hunger gnaws at you. Hunger wears you down. Hunger is even more powerful than guilt.  Hunger convinces you a diet was never what you needed in the first place. Like Audrey, that plant in Little Shop of Horrors, hunger drones day and night crying, “Feed me, Feed me.”

        What method did Jesus embrace to combat the loud voice crying out for a simple piece of bread? Nutri-system? South Beach? Weight Watchers? How about the obvious, The Mediterranean Diet? My suspicion is Jesus was heavily invested in the power of prayer.

        Ken Medema wrote a song that thankfully is found in  our hymnbook. It has been sung around campfires and youth rally’s for years. There is nothing complex about the words. But it will stick to you like flypaper.

        Lord, listen to your children praying.

        Lord bring your Spirit to this place.

        Lord, listen to your children praying.

       Send us love, send us power, send us grace.

        The song has not one but two back stories. Medema was working with a youth group in 1973. One of their adventures was to visit folks in a local hospital and spread some joy. On one visit they discovered not everyone in the hospital is over 65. They ran across a young man their own age. Joy left the group as they imagined themselves in that bed. Once back at the church they began to imagine what they might do to life the spirits of their new friend. “Let’s write him cards, let’s bring him food, let’s call him on the phone.” One kid responded, “Let’s pray for him.” Medema responded, “We can do that right now.” I can tell you from experience I don’t care if someone is nine or eighty-nine, public prayer is not easy. But once it starts remarkable things happen.  Initially the prayers were short, but each heartfelt. In the midst of the prayers a tune came to him. He said, “I was humming, then mumbling, and then one kid cried out, ‘Lord, listen to your children praying’.” By the end of our prayers a new song had been written.

        This was not an unusual way for Ken Medema to write music. He was born with almost no sight, but that never stopped his insights. He is a self taught musician who holds a graduate degree in music therapy. He has spent the majority of his life helping folks with perfect sight learn how to see. The name of his music company is Briar Patch. He says, “Briar Rabbit lived in a place not comfortable for anyone. I decided to follow him there.”  

        While Medema lives in his own wilderness, he embraces this darkness in order that others might find light.  I suspect he understands it is not our hunger or blindness that conquers us. It is our inability to visualize beyond what we have accepted as truth.  Can you imagine finding the holy kingdom of God in your unholy anxieties and insecurities?

        That is a scary thought, yet that is what a great song writer will do. Jesus didn’t venture into the wilderness alone. He popped his personal top 40 into his spiritual ipod. When darkness fell he sang, “Even though I walk through the darkness, You are with me.” When Jesus was beyond loneliness he sang, “For God alone my soul waits in silence.” And when things became even more than could Jesus endure, he looked into tomorrow and exclaimed, “Help me make it through the night.”

        Each song became his prayer.  And each of those prayers has become our songs. In the wilderness we find time to pray for a friend. In the wastelands, we stumble across the courage to pray for forgiveness. In the darkness, we discover the clarity to pray for God’s grace. Renewed and refreshed we cross the Jordan. And when we stumble, it is always a song that leads us home.      Amen.