A Voice In Ramah

God Waits
by Shirley Erena Murray

God weeps at love withheld
at strength abused
at children’s innocence abused
and till we change the way we love —
God weeps.

God bleeds at anger’s fist
at trust betrayed
at women battered and afraid
and till we change the way we win —
God bleeds.

God cries at hungry mouths
at running sores
at creatures dying without cause
and till we change the way we care —
God cries.

God waits for stones to melt
for peace to seed
for hearts to hold each other’s needs
and till we understand The Christ —
God waits.

*********************

I think that changing the way we love, the way we win, the way we care and how we understand The Christ is, indeed, the work of the Holy Spirit.

So, let the Holy Spirit breathe on us still….break us, mold us — make us to love, win, care and understand like The Christ.

Amen.

I Cannot Do This Alone
by Dietrich Bonhoeffer

O God, early in the morning I cry to You.
Help me to pray and to concentrate my thoughts on You.
I cannot do this alone.

In me there is darkness but with You there is light.
I am lonely, but You do not leave me.
I am feeble in heart but with You there is help.

I am restless but with You there is peace.

In me there is bitterness, but with You — there is patience.

I do not understand Your ways but you know the way for me.

Restore me to liberty and enable me to live now that I may answer before You and before me.

Lord, whatever this day may bring, Your name be praised.

As the family was returning from the annual trip to Jerusalem for the festival of Passover, 12-year old Jesus decided to stay behind “losing his family.”  He wasn’t lost.  He knew where he was.  His family, however, had no idea that he intended to stay in Jerusalem.  They didn’t see him but assumed that he was somewhere among the travelers…and went a whole day’s journey before they figured out that something was amiss.

They quickly returned to Jerusalem and they searched three days before they found him, sitting in the temple among the teachers — listening and asking questions.

As a parent, I know the panic that sets in when your child goes missing.  My own son decided to “visit” a neighborhood friend without telling me — rationalizing that because I once told him that I had eyes in the back of my head that I would always know where he was.  Why would he need to tell me if I was already “all-seeing” with these eyes in the back of my head?!?!  Believe me, I was very careful about using euphemisms around him after that…he was missing all of 4 minutes and I felt like I aged 4 years in those minutes.

My neighbor, who had the pleasure of getting this unscheduled visit from my then four-year old son, saw the panic in my eyes when I knocked on her door.  What she did was pure genius:  she said, “I can’t give him to you now….come in and have a cup of coffee with me.”  We lived so close to one another and our children were very frequent visitors — fixture’s even — in the other’s home — but one look at me and she knew that on this particular day, I had no idea that my son had gone visiting.  So, instead of turning him over, she extended her hand and calmed me down.  That cup of coffee is probably the reason I am not in jail right now…

Me:  David, why did you leave the house?
David:  I wanted to visit — and you told me you had eyes in the back of your head. I thought you could see me.
Me:  silence…..

I cannot imagine the scale of panic Joseph and Mary must have felt — they searched for Jesus for three days in Jerusalem.  They had already gone a whole days journey before they figured out he was gone — so they hadn’t seen him in four days!  What a picture he must have presented to his frantic parents — calmly sitting in the temple listening and asking questions.

But when I think of this episode in Jesus’ life, I am reminded of a few things beyond the panic children have a way of inflicting on parents:

1.  We have children among us who have questions.  A child with a question is a treasure. (I’m saying this for my own benefit because…whew! Sometimes, those questions….!!!)  Even though it is not apparent, they are listening to us — and they have their own questions about what we proclaim to be true.  Who is  listening to them? Who is giving them a space for dialogue?  Too much of our education, particularly Christian education, is bankrupt and useless. Those who are teaching — “teach at” the children.  There is no room for the unscripted question, the challenging question…

2.  I have come to know so many children over the years who ended up in the church because they “ran away” from home.  They found a place in the church because they went missing from the home front.  In other words, mom and dad (or just mom or auntie or grandma) was at home, and they found their way into the church — maybe drawn to a youth program or relationships with other friends.  Parent’s weren’t supportive of them being there, gave them a hard time about being there — and certainly were not going to “lose themselves” in anybody’s church.  It’s one thing when we have to fight with our children to get them into the church….in fact, that’s quite developmentally appropriate and normal.  It’s a whole other matter when our children have to go missing from home — when they have to lose us adults —  just to find a space in the church — to be among people who might listen and answer their questions.  I was one of those kids — and thank God there were people in my “temple” who always welcomed my questions.

3.  The questions that children ask when they are children — especially the questions that they ask of the faith, of church, of religion, of what they see in the world, of inequities and injustice  — have a lot to do with the issues they end up grappling with as adults.  When I was 12, my “temple questions” were about poverty and who protects vulnerable people?

I don’t have any proof, but I’m wondering about Jesus’ question-answer period with the temple teachers.  The story ends with a declaration about his “Father’s House.”  It is true that Jesus lived under constant rumor-mongering about his parentage.  Joseph embraced him as son, treated him as son, loved him as son, and taught him his trade. Joseph’s acknowledgment of Jesus as his son gave Jesus access to the temple in the first place.  He certainly would not have been allowed inside if Joseph had withheld that important recognition from him.  But to the community, Jesus was a “mamzer.”  He was still the boy of questionable parentage…Mary’s baby, Joseph’s maybe.  Those “rumors” never died down…who is Jesus’ real father?  When Mary and Joseph find Jesus and question him, his answer to them is — “Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?”  His parents had no clue what he was talking about.  But for me, it is significant that he didn’t answer them with something like — “I was interested in the class they were teaching, or I had questions about the scriptures that I wanted to ask the teachers…”  His answer was — “I was in my Father’s house.”  The community gossips about who Jesus’ father is —  but Jesus here at 12 years old has settled the question with his question – “Did you not know that must be in my Father’s house?”

The prophets and writers of the scriptures before Jesus of Nazareth provide wonderful depictions of God. But it is Jesus who paints a picture born of his own experience of God as Father — the one who accepts all children. 

I’m sure that if we listened to the children in our midst today — and asked questions of their experiences of God — we might get a few more beautiful pictures of how God still shows up strong in the lives of people in the way people’s souls need God the most. 

A few years ago, we immersed the children in our congregation in a summer program focusing on the Psalms.  They reflected on their own experiences of God — on their experiences of joy, pain, heartache, trouble…some even wrote their own psalms.  Many children have experienced traumas and troubles that would break an adult’s spirit.  But given room in the temple to listen and question, these children had an answer for the inevitable “who do you say that I am?”

Father
Rescuer
Friend
Mother
Protector
Joy-Bringer
Healer
Peacemaker
Provider
Playmate
Way-maker
Deliverer
Song-maker
Light
Destroyer of Darkness

Houses of faith have to be a whole lot of things these days…but in all the things that they are, please, let them also be temples where children can still listen and question….and even answer.

To us a Child of Hope is born,
to us a Son is given;
Him shall the tribes of earth obey,
Him all the hosts of heaven —
Him shall the tribes of earth obey, Him all the hosts of heaven.

His name shall be the Prince of Peace,
For evermore adored,
The Wonderful, the Counselor
the great and mighty Lord,
the Wonderful, the Counselor, the great and mighty Lord.

His power, increasing, still shall spread,
His reign no end shall know;
Justice shall guard His throne above,
and peace abound below —
Justice shall guard His throne above and peace abound below.

I awoke with the haunting words and melody of this hymn of Christmas in my head — A Child of Hope.

For too many people and for lots and lots of reasons, the birth of children do not signal hope. Instead — heartache, suffering, hard times and more hard times, anguish….pain.  I know all that we say about Mary, Jesus’ mother….but sometimes, I wish I could have been privy to what was going on in her mind when the Angel left, when family members weighed in….what did she see in Joseph’s eyes at first…really…when she shared with him her news?

Why did she really need to go and spend three months with her cousin, Elizabeth, John’s mother?  Maybe three months was the cooling off period?

I don’t know — we will never know.  But this is for sure:  part of the reason that Jesus is a child of Hope is because regardless of how he was conceived, the questions that surrounded that conception and whatever their families were thinking — Mary kneeled down and Joseph stepped up.

Mary kneeled down…and Joseph stepped up. 

Mary praised and prayed.

Joseph embraced a life that he didn’t create, but one that would be his to shape and nurture.

We still need children to be “of hope” — not to suffer the soul-branding anguish that comes with facing the lingering questions, doubts, and uncertainties of their circumstances, anguish that often follows them throughout their lives.  That Jesus still suffered the community’s gossip, name-calling and constant questioning about his parentage as he grew up even though Joseph embraced him for all to see and bound him to his lineage tells us just vulnerable children are –even this Child — to adult “name-calling.”

Yet…this Child taught us some hopeful things…

–That even young children can be about “their Father’s business” — we should “open our Temples” and embrace their questions.

–That our family bloodlines are not anywhere near as all-encompassing as families united by His blood — we should be even more willing to make a place within our circle for God’s beloved.

–That regardless of the circumstances of our birth…even two thousand years later…He shares with us the One he called “Our Father” — affirming the declaration of the psalmist who declared that if our earthly mothers and fathers forsake us, He will take us up.

We still need children of Hope — children who are taught that they are precious, who have names of endearment whispered into their ears, who are embraced by strong men and prayed for by courageous women, whose names are inserted into the community history — the lineage — and who are assured without a shadow of doubt, over and over again, that there is One who is stronger than the pull of any of our circumstances.

Kneel down Mary…and step up Joseph….trust God to do the rest.

When it gets really tough — what do you really need — deep down in your soul — to keep going? To keep moving? To keep working, witnessing and being light, salt and love?

“If by excessive labor, we die before reaching the average age of [man], worn out in the Master’s service, then glory be to God, we shall have so much less of earth and so much more of heaven…it is our duty and our privilege to exhaust our lives for Jesus. We are not to be living specimens of [men] in fine preservation, but living sacrifices whose lot is to be consumed.”

“We can only produce life in others by the wear and tear of our own being. This is a natural and spiritual law — that fruit can only come to the seed by its spending and being spent even to self-exhaustion.”

Now — of course, I don’t mean that we are to be workaholics. I don’t mean that we are to eschew balanced lives.  I certainly don’t mean that we are to neglect the care of our selves, our bodies.  That is ridiculous.

But if we are to be exhausted — then by God’s power and grace, we should strive to be exhausted for Him.

If my eyes are to be bleary and tired — let them be because of a laser focus on God’s beloved, God’s smallest ones….and not because I have been looking so intently at my own navel.

If my shoulders are to ache, let it be because I found a sister or brother in need of them….and not because I am carrying my own ego, excess or wealth.

If my feet hurt at the end of the day, let it be because I have walked with someone who was lonely and in need of companionship, or because I went in search of someone lost — and not because I have been stepping on others.

This is what I know: when I am empty God does supply.  I may get anxious sometimes, wondering…when, Lord?…but God does indeed supply.

Water
Respite
Dew
Rest
Peace
Mercy
Grace
Laughter
Inspiration
Friends
Perspective
Unconditional Love

I called my friend back to share with him Philippians 4:19 — and he just laughed.

He said, “I just read the whole letter again….with each verse, I felt like I was caught up in a song that was modulating upward. With each modulation, I felt lighter, weaker…and if you can believe it, more powerful, stronger at the same time.”

I guess that’s what he needed.  Of course, my response?

“So, get back to work you slacker!”

Amen.

1.  Keep and strengthen the Children’s Health Insurance Program;
2.  Make the Children’s Health Insurance program simple for parents to access;
3.  Guarantee children in the Children’s Health Insurance Program the same comprehensive benefits as children get in Medicaid; and,
4. Provide a health safety net for children in families of four earning $66,150 (300 percent of the federal poverty level) wherever they live in America. We must end the unjust lottery of geography.

The LORD appeared to us in the past, saying, “I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with loving-kindness.”

It has taken me almost and a year and a half to write about this fragile little porcelain bell. The picture is not clear, but it is a beautiful bell. It has my name on it, the date I graduated from college (May 1985) on one side with hand-painted rendering of my Alma Mater, Fisk University. On the other side is an equally beautiful rendering of my dormitory, Fisk Jubilee Hall. It has taken me a year and a half to write about it because whenever I hold this bell in my hands — I am simply overcome. I can barely contain myself to finish a sentence because this little bell is but one physical reminder of the way God drew even me with loving-kindness into God’s circle of care and has loved even me with an everlasting love.

I came home one day in early 2008 feeling like most people feel sometimes — tired and frustrated. I remember driving around the block a few times, trying to get my head together because I did not want to bring my “stuff” into the house I share with family. (Most days, I fail at that and I am grateful that they just wrap me in their love anyway.) When I walked into the foyer, I saw the package. Quite frankly, I did not think much of it. I am notorious for not reading mail right away. I was not expecting a package and so I did not check to see if my name was on it, and made no move to open it. (There is a sermon in there somewhere!) After a few hours, no one else in my house had opened the package either. (They DID check the name on the package…because expected or not, these little Simpson’s love packages…anybody’s packages!)

I peeked over at it, almost afraid that it would be for me. When I discovered that this neat little package was for me, I immediately searched for the name of the sender. Who could be sending me something that I was not expecting?

And there it was her name…Linda Pegues Brinkley.

From the recesses of my memory, I saw her face as clear as if she was before me: a member of St. Anselm’s Episcopal Church in Nashville, TN — the congregation that nurtured me while I was in college. St. Anselm’s was a place where dreams were held sacred – even crazy dreams. I always felt like I was entering “another world” whenever I crossed the threshold to go into worship. In this world, my dreams were significant. Linda and the people of St. Anselm’s Episcopal Church made my dreams significant.

I was far away from home and lonely. (We won’t even talk about the culture shock of moving from “Brick City” Newark, NJ to “Ya’ll take care now, ya hear?” Nashville, TN)

Few of my peers understood or had sympathy with the call that God was burning into my soul at that time. After all, the college years were supposed to be party years, not discerning years, right?

Anybody who has had a call knows that coming to grips with it — God’s call on your life — is a lonely, frightening experience.

I was young, but open.

I had never even seen a female minister before and had no absolutely no idea that somehow, agreeing to wrestle with God’s call on my life might also be about stepping into arguments about the “worthiness of women” to carry the Word — an argument God obviously settled long before I was born. Otherwise, why call?

I was clueless about everything except for this one thing: while the verses of scripture would argue against each other about whether I was even worthy of God’s love, I was convicted and convinced that the overarching story of why the Word became flesh in the first place had everything to do with me and people like me. Somehow, I was in the story even if “verses” fought against it. And somehow, I wanted to tell that story over and over again.

Holding this fragile bell in my hand reminds me of my wrestling with God, of seeking refuge and solace among people who were not afraid to create an “otherworldly” space for crazy, young people….it reminds me of what I needed from the adults around me just so that I could make peace with the burning in my soul, so that I could respond to the One who was calling me with an everlasting love.

I called Linda soon after receiving the bell and the sound of her voice washing over me through the telephone was like Baptism…it was “commissioning” all over again, encouragement to go out on behalf of the story.

It was encouragement to dream anew! Crazy dreams, so what!? Dream…

It was a powerful example of how Love travels through years with a ringing reminder — “I have not forgotten you…I have loved you with an everlasting love.”

In Donnie McClurkin’s song, “That’s What I Believe,” he sings of going to God for deliverance, salvation, and for God’s word — and trusting that God would give just what God promised — deliverance, salvation and even the word (of course, not necessarily in that order.)

I love this song and the words and the tune are often floating in the back of my head. But our theology has to be bigger than the lyrics of this song.

I believe that we do indeed go to God for many things — but God often touches us with more than we could ever imagine. “Eyes haven’t seen…ears haven’t heard….neither has it even entered into our hearts what God has in store for us….” (I Corinthians 2.9)

We go to God for deliverance and the Big Mercy of God blesses us with purpose, call and vocation pulled from the depths of the very stuff that used to imprison us.

We go to God for the Word and the Big Grace of God blesses us with insight, wisdom and the ability to see ourselves and each other in the big story, not just the verses.

We go to God seeking our own salvation and the Big Power of God pushes into our faces opportunities to be instruments of saving grace for others.

Dreams — small ones and big ones — all have to go through God if they are to be fulfilled in the will of God.

Here’s what I am dreaming about….

Children who can run and jump and play…

Children who can go to good schools, learn and grow up ready to face their own “such a time as this”….

Children who are loved…..

Children who can see good doctors when they are in need regardless of where they live….and a world which sees every child as deserving of these little dreams.

My small dreams and eyes haven’t seen…but God dreams big and sees.

My small dreams and ears haven’t heard…but God dreams big and hears.

My small dreams and mind cannot conceive…but who can understand the mind of God?

It hasn’t entered into my small heart…but in God’s heart resides the least of these.

So, on behalf of children whose dreams may never come true with my courage, I’m going to God with my small dreams…trusting God who is….big.

Do you happen to have a costume laying around?

In March of this year, an autistic boy living in Thailand facing the “first day of school fears,” climbed on to a balcony putting himself in danger.

His teacher could not coax him off the balcony.

His mother could not coax him back to safety.

Firefighters arrived with their ladders and one firefighter overheard the mother sharing with the boy’s teachers how her son loved superheros, particularly Spiderman. Thinking quickly, ran back to the firehouse where he kept costumes that he used to “liven up” local parades….and he just happened to have a Spiderman costume. He pulled off his firefighters gear and put the costume on, running back to try something new to coax the boy off the balcony.

And of course, he did just that with “Spiderman is here to save you!”

Are there any children perched on the balconies in your view?

What would you be willing to do to save them?

Got any superhero costumes laying around?

How about just some time to talk with them, look them in the eyes, affirm their fears and hopes?

How about time to listen?

Today — May 2, 2009 — would have been my late Aunt Doris’ 80th birthday. She passed a few years ago. She was not a “touchy, feely” person, rarely showed her true emotions. But she was a superheroine to me as a child because she was always there. I made it out onto a few ledges, a few balconies while she was alive. She had a special knack for calling just when the wind was blowing the hardest. And, of course, the balconies were no match to her presence.

As an adult, the danger of the balcony is still real….and yet still no match to the power of her memory.

I hope that you have a few costumes ready. They come in handy. I hope that you will be willing to dress yourself in love, in laughter, in acceptance, in strength — and linger near the balconies that endanger our children.

Thank you, Spiderman. Bless you, Wonder Woman!