Wednesday, December 26, 2018

Fragrant Offering

I was inspired during the Prayers of the People in worship a few weeks ago.  Is this a poem or merely poetic? I'll let you decide for yourself, but in any case I hope it feeds something in your hungry soul.  Merry Christmas!


Fragrant Offering

The leader stands and reads
the words of prayer.
Prayer from us, for us,
prayer to Holy God in heaven,
far yet near, here but not.
The words flow forth,
old words, new words,
ancient petitions in modern phrase.
We listen, we hear.
Those with softened heart
can sense the change:
change in the air,
change in the mood.

The leader reads
but more than words flow forth. 
The barest curl of smoke,
translucent, glimmering,
accompanies the words.
The faint tendril curls lazily,
moving gently in the light-filled air.
It extends and reaches,
out, out, and outward still.
Out over the people, among the people,
wreathing and enveloping
as it flows, grows.

The leader reads
and billows form!
Clouds of prayer hang in the air,
now rising also from the pews,
from those who’ve joined the leader’s words
though silently, silently.

The leader reads,
but wait!
What’s that sweet smell?
That delicious aroma in the air?
Incense!
Not merely smoke but fragrance, too,
the cloud of prayer has sweetened,
somehow thickened.
The soul delights in this new atmosphere
of prayer made real, tangible.
A taste of heaven,
our words are now incarnate, too.

The leader reads
and God receives our fragrant offering.
He smiles.


Photo by Unknown Author is licensed under CC BY-SA-NC

Wednesday, April 25, 2018

A Tiny Box of Pain

I recently was called upon to conduct the graveside funeral service for a six-month-old baby, a relation I had never met. I was particularly moved by the small size of the child's coffin - little bigger than a shoebox - such a tiny box, and filled with pain.  There is so much pain and sorrow and hurt floating around in this child's family, and I've been thinking about the nature of pain. 

The following paragraphs are from the homily I shared at the funeral.  Ultimately, our pain and sorrow in the midst of death and tragedy can remind us of the reason for our hope and faith, and might be the impetus for others to claim faith in Jesus for themselves.  A tiny box of pain can inspire the faith that leads to eternal life, and joy.
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As I’ve been praying and reflecting on the events that have brought us together today, my heart keeps crying out: “why are we here?!”  Six months old babies are not supposed to die, so why are we here?  If God is so good, then why are we here, with all this sorrow and grief ?   Why must we be here and live through this hard thing? WHY?!

Why, indeed…. 

Since there have been people, “Why” has been the cry of the human heart in the face of tragedy and suffering and death.  Christians proclaim to the world that God is good, God is love.  But the world answers back and says “oh yeah? How good is a God who lets little babies die?”  That’s a tough charge to answer because Christian hearts, too, are wrestling with the cry of “why”? 

But the plain fact is that suffering of all sorts exists in the world and our good God allows it.  In the beginning, Adam and Eve would not trust God’s good intentions for them and so they chose to eat the one fruit that God had forbidden.  And ever since, suffering and sorrow has been part and parcel of the human experience. 

We suffer because sin has been released into the world, and the effects of sin are evil and death and suffering and sorrow and pain.  So why are we here? Why are we here to bury a baby? Because sin is loose in the world.

But God didn’t leave us here, living in a world of suffering and without hope.  God loves us, and ever since Adam and Eve, God has been working to get his children back – to get us back.  And to make a way for us, he sent his own son, Jesus.  Jesus, who was fully and completely God, but he was also fully human.  He felt all the things we feel.  He felt joy, but he also felt grief; he felt pain. 

When his friend Lazarus died, Jesus wept in sorrow for him even though he knew he would raise Lazarus from death, bring him back to life, in just a few minutes.  And before he was crucified, Jesus prayed to God his Father and begged him to take away the betrayal and the horrible death he would die.  But in obedience to his Father, and for the love of humankind, he suffered and he died. 

Friends, we are in good company in our sorrow – God knows what we’re feeling because he has felt what we have felt and more.

So I say again why are we here?  Our hearts are already breaking and broken for this child and her parents, but in the middle of this sorrow and pain, our hearts might also be broken for God, for Jesus, who went through so much for our sakes. 

For those of us who have already put our trust in Jesus, we can be reminded today of the reasons for our hope and faith in the loving goodness of God.  We can hope to experience the great mystery of knowing joy even in the face of overwhelming sorrow. 

And for any who don’t believe, well, today might be the day your broken heart begins to soften toward God and the great love he has for each and every one of us.

And now I’ll circle back one last time to the question of the day: why are we here?  We are here to bring this little child to Jesus.  The Gospel contains a story of people who were bringing little children to Jesus.  These were little children, too young to bring themselves, too young to know why they might want to be with Jesus.  Little children like the one we remember today. 

People brought these little children to Jesus and he welcomed them!  “He took the children in his arms, placed his hands on them and blessed them.”  Today we lower this child's tiny body into the earth, …for now.  But we are also here to lift her soul to the arms of Jesus, where he will bless her and love her while she, and we, await his final coming.