“My days are like an evening shadow”

                 Memorial weekend is considered by many to be the unofficial start of summer and they look forward to picnics, a trip to the beach or some other pleasurable activity. Originally, the day was meant to honor fallen service men and women, as well as loved ones who have died, and many people will visit cemeteries to do just that.

                Visiting a cemetery is a time to remember others, but it is also a time to reflect. The silent headstones tell us more than names and dates. They speak to us of mortality. Including our own mortality. We may not actually go to a cemetery but Memorial Day still prompts us to reflect on our mortality.

                I thought of this recently while reading in the Psalms. More than one psalm speaks of our mortality. Many echo what the psalmist said in Psalm 102: “My days pass away like smoke . . . my days are like an evening shadow; . . . I wither away like grass.”

                Poets have picked up on the imagery of the words, “my days are like an evening shadow.” Gerhard Frost wrote these lines:

                    “Time to come in now!” The mellow voice of love in

The darkening dust of a distant day,

my barefoot, carefree days of firefly lanterns,

cricket-chirped curfews

and the serious business of play.

No harshness to remember, but firmness born of care,

The loving care of Mother; She knew how much we liked to play.

“Time to come in now!” I seem to hear God say

in the deepening dusk of my sunset day.

God knows how much I want to stay.

                (Gerhard Frost, “God Knows,” in Seasons of a Lifetime, p. 153)

                 How shall we face our mortality and the “evening shadow?” This unexpressed question must be in my mind when I go to bed because I often, not always, but often go to sleep reciting another poem to myself. It is a short poem, written by a woman of faith, Jane Kenyon, whose “evening shadow” came early because of breast cancer. It is titled: “Let Evening Come.”

 Let the light of late afternoon

Shine through chinks in the barn, moving

Up the bales as the sun moves down.

 Let the cricket take up chafing

As a woman takes up her needles

And her yarn. Let evening come.

 Let dew collect on the hoe abandoned

In long grass. Let the stars appear

And the moon disclose her silver horn.

 Let the fox go back to its sandy den.

Let the wind die down. Let the shed

Go black inside. Let evening come.

 To the bottle in the ditch, to the scoop

In the oats, to air in the lung

Let evening come.

 Let it come, as it will, and don’t

Be afraid. God does not leave us

comfortless, so let evening come.

                (The Best Poems of Jane Kenyon. Graywolf Press, 2020, p. 58).

                Jane Kenyon could write this because of her faith in one whose life was cut short by a cross. His “evening shadow” also came much too early, as we humans count lifespans. But he trusted in the all-powerful God of creation to see him through “the valley of the shadow of death” to the victory banquet that lay ahead.   

                 On this Memorial weekend, as we consider our mortality, God does not leave us comfortless because of him who died and rose again on our behalf. Because of him we face our mortality with a living hope. Today, especially, we heed his invitation: “Do this in remembrance of me.”

ENOUGH!

 1 Corinthians 11:23-26

             In his book of meditations on the psalms, Ben Patterson tells of a professor who was lecturing from Paul’s letter, First Thessalonians, in which the apostle is teaching about the return of Christ. He was in Uganda and his students were young men preparing for ministry. These young men were living with horrendous reminders of what they had endured during the murderous reign of Idi Amin. Some were missing an eye or an arm. Several had bulging red scars from what had been deep machete wounds. In the eyes of all was the shadow of the horror they had seen. But there was also the light of the hope of Christ.

             The professor read verse 16 in chapter 4: “The Lord himself will come down from heaven with a commanding shout, with the voice of the archangel, and the trumpet call of God.” Immediately, a student’s hand went up.

             “Yes?” said the professor. “What is your question?”

             The man who had raised his hand hesitated for a moment and then asked softly, “What will the Lord shout?”

             The professor didn’t know what to say. Who would? Yet the accumulated suffering of the students in that classroom seemed to demand some kind of answer. What will the Lord shout when he returns as Lord of Lords and King of Kings?

            “I don’t know,” the professor admitted. Then he looked around the room, pausing to look at each student, and asked, “What do you think he will shout?”

             A student’s voice came from the back: “I think he will shout ‘Enough!’” That’s a good answer.* Enough violence, enough sickness and pandemics, enough tears, enough suffering, enough hatred. It’s a time we all look forward to.

             Paul reminds us in 1 Cor. 11 that the Lord’s Supper looks forward to that time as he says, For as often as you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.” His words remind us that we look not only to the past with thanksgiving but to the future with hope. As we partake, we look to the future when he will return, and all will be well.

             To be sure, in the meantime, even now to some extent, we can experience the wholeness and peace that he has promised, but we know that all will not be realized until the final shout is heard. Paul’s words invite us to look toward that day: “For as often as you eat this bread and drink this cup you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.”

*Patterson, Ben. God’s Prayer Book. Carol Stream, Ill., Saltriver, 2008, p. 184.

A TABLE IN THE WILDERNESS

 

            I sat in the living room early on a quiet morning, with a cup of tea, and looked out upon a tranquil neighborhood bathed in bright sunshine and thought, “it appears that all is well.” But looks can be deceptive. I had also just picked up the morning paper. It told a different story – a story of over ½ million deaths from Covid 19, of thousands who have lost their jobs, a murderer was killed by the police in a standoff, a governor who is accused of sexual assault and a cover-up of Covid 19 deaths. There are threats of domestic terrorism, political deadlock, a pending ecological disaster and protestors being gassed. You get the idea. It’s a jungle, a wild wilderness out there and we must travel through it.

             It’s enough to make us question God. Israel certainly did. They were in the wilderness of Sinai, weary, frightened, hungry and thirsty. In their desperation, says Psalm 78:19, “They spoke against God, saying, ‘Can God spread a table in the wilderness?’” They were asking, can God give us the nourishment we need to survive in this environment? Can God really produce a sense of hope and promise in the midst of such a depressing, mind-boggling situation?

             Yes, said the psalmist, he can and he did. Psalm 78 reviews their history in the wilderness and asserts: “He commanded the skies above and opened the doors of heaven; and he rained down upon them manna to eat, and gave them the grain of heaven. They ate the bread of the angels; he sent them food in abundance” (Ps, 78:23-25),

             Can God spread a table in our wilderness? John’s story in chapter six says he can. A few days after feeding the 5,000 in a “secluded” and “desolate” place (Mk. 6:32,35), Jesus was found again, as John tells us, by a large crowd (Jn 6:25). When some, seeking more bread, spoke of Israel being given manna in the wilderness they quoted Ps 78:24 which says, “He gave them bread out of heaven to eat.” Jesus responded, “It is not Moses who has given you the bread out of heaven, but it is my Father who gives you the true bread out of heaven. For the bread of God is that which … gives life to the world.” When the people said, “Lord, evermore give us this bread,” Jesus replied: I am the bread of life; he who comes to me shall not hunger, and he who believes in me shall never thirst” (Jn 6:31-35).

             The Lord’s Supper reminds us that God can spread a table for us in the wilderness. Jesus is our Table in the Wilderness. He is our bread of life. As he said, “this bread is my body, given for you.” And this cup is my blood shed for you.” He is our table in the wilderness.

             A communion hymn invites us to that table with these words:

                             All who hunger, gather gladly; Holy Manna is our bread.

                            Come from wilderness and wandering. Here in truth we will be fed.

                            You that yearn for days of fullness, all around us is our food.

                            Taste and see the grace eternal. Taste and see that God is good.

                                                                                (Sylvia Dunstan, 1990; Chalice Hymnal, 419)

UNPRECEDENTED!

 

                Ordinarily the editors of the Oxford English Dictionary elect one word to characterize the previous year, but in the case of 2020, they had trouble doing that. In an article titled, “Words of an Unprecedented Year,” they said that they couldn’t settle on one word but instead chose several, with words related to the Pandemic in the lead. Words like, locked down, shelter in place, covid-19, bubble, and others. As they said, it was an unprecedented year and perhaps the best choice for a single word to describe the year is simply “unprecedented.” 

                The disciples of Jesus could say that they had an unprecedented experience also. It happened when they were in a lockdown. They were “sheltering in place.” There was a deadly enemy out there and they were afraid to venture out. They had seen Jesus crucified. There was nothing unprecedented about that; there were lots of crucifixions. What happened next, however, was unprecedented. Here is how John describes it in chapter 20:

 “When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” After he had said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit”).

                 Knowing how shocked and troubled they were, Jesus said, twice, “Peace be with you.” Then he showed them his hands and his side, as if to say, “look, I am the one they crucified, but I’m alive.” Then they realized that he had defeated death and they rejoiced. His living presence gave them hope and joy.

                 Then he said to them, “As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” His words gave them purpose. They were not a bunch of individuals, devastated and at loose ends. They had a reason for existence, a mission to accomplish.

                 Next he breathed upon them and said, “Receive the Holy Spirit.” Not only were they given a purpose, they were also given the power to carry it out, the Holy Spirit, the very presence of God in their lives.

               It was indeed an unprecedented experience. They went from a devastated, frightened people, destined to be scattered and forgotten to a joyful, powerful group that would change the world. All because the living Christ was in their midst, giving them peace, joy, purpose and power. 

                We are fortunate to share in this unprecedented experience as we meet with our Lord in communion this morning, and because of his presence, we too can experience peace, joy, purpose and power. 

  

 

                 

A TRANSFORMING RESOLUTION FOR 2021

 

          The year is about to end, and we all say, good riddance to a bad year. Of course, we know that our current problems will not go away just by turning a page on the calendar. But as we turn the page, we can hope for a much better year in 2021. However, for that hope to be more than just wishful thinking there are things we need to do beyond the usual precautions of wearing a mask, washing our hands, and so on. We can do something that is equally or even more important.

 

            We can make a New Year’s Resolution that will help us navigate whatever dangerous waters lay ahead. We can resolve to live the words of Philippians 4:4-8. We can take these inspired words from Paul, who seemed to always be in trouble, and do like the ancient Israelites did with the divine words God gave them. They were told to bind them between their eyes and on their wrists, and to write them on their doorposts where they would see them every day. God’s words were meant to permeate their lives.

             Here is what Philippians 4:4-8 says: Rejoice in the Lord always; again, I will say, rejoice. Let your reasonableness be known to everyone. The Lord is near; do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Finally, . . . whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.

             These are words to live by in 2021. Let me summarize:

             First, rejoice in the Lord always. This is not a suggestion; it is a command; we can choose to rejoice.

            Second, be reasonable with everyone, especially those who disagree with you.

            Third, replace anxiety with prayer – in everything and with thanksgiving.

            Finally, focus on what is true, honorable, and just; on what is pure, lovely, and commendable Do your best to counter the stories of ugliness and violence by focusing on what is good and praiseworthy.

             Paul wanted to imitate Christ and I am sure that these words reflect what he saw in Christ. Today, as we view Christ through the lens of the Lord’s Supper, let us resolve to live by these words and thereby imitate Christ.

 Confession of Faith

 Prayer: O Lord, hear us and rescue us. Give us in the new year, we pray, renewed health in body, mind, and spirit. Help us to live by the example of your Son, Jesus the Savior, in whose name we pray.

 

PEACE BE WITH YOU

 

             If you look in any hymnal you will find several Advent hymns that focus on the great themes of this season. A familiar one, “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel.” speaks of peace in the fourth stanza as it says: “O come Desire of nations, bind all peoples in one heart and mind. Bid envy, strife and quarrels cease; fill the whole world with heaven’s peace.”

            When Isaiah spoke of the coming child (9:6-7) he called him “Wonderful, Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace,” and added, “of the increase of his government and peace there will be no end.”

            The child, who became the man Jesus, met with his apostles for the last time in the upper room. There, according to John’s Gospel, he spoke at length, preparing them for his departure. Several times he spoke about peace. For instance, he said, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives” (14:27). Near the end of his teaching he said, “I have said this to you, so that in me you may have peace” (16:33).

             He wants them to have the gift of his peace. He said, “I do not give to you as the world gives.” He, and they, knew all too well how the world gives peace. Their world was a Roman world. How did that world give peace? At the point of a sword and by crucifying anyone who was a threat to their rule of peace. The Pax Romana, the “Peace of Rome,” was in force and they meant to keep it that way. Jesus saw firsthand how the world gives peace. As a boy he lived in the small village of Nazareth, close to the major city of Sephoris. A rebellion in Sephoris about the time when Jesus was born ended quickly with the death of some 30,000 citizens, including 2,000 who were crucified. Jesus would have learned that the cross was the symbol of how the world gives peace.

             Jesus said he wanted to give them his peace. Amazingly, the cross became his symbol of peace.  In Romans 5 Paul points out that it was through death on the cross that Christ reconciled us to God, thus making peace. And as for the hostilities and divisions we experience in the world, Paul explains in Ephesians 2 that he put these to death through the cross as well. The symbolism of the cross was transformed when Jesus was crucified.

             There is a beautiful verse in Ps 85 which, I think, summarizes the symbolism of the cross for us: “Mercy and truth have met together; Righteousness and peace have kissed each other.” As we take communion today may the cross be both righteousness and peace for us.

IT'S NOT OVER

 

I was reading Psalm 31 recently and one line in it made me think of Jesus on the cross. In verse 5 the psalmist says, “Into your hand I commit my spirit.” In Luke’s Gospel (23:46) these were his last words, uttered shortly before he died. When I picture Jesus on the cross and hear these words they sound like the last gasp of a dying man. He is facing reality – death is inevitable and imminent. Later, when Stephen in Acts 7, when Stephen is being crushed by huge stones thrown down on him, he said the same thing. It’s clear that he also knows that death is inevitable and imminent. It’s as if both Jesus and Stephen are saying, it’s over, the end has come. 

 

But when I read these words in the context of Psalm 31 that is not what I see. To be sure, the psalmist clearly is in trouble. He prays in verse 1, “rescue me speedily,” and in verse 4, “take me out of the net that is hidden for me.” Later in the psalm he cries out to God in distress, “my strength fails, my bones waste away” (10). And he speaks of enemies who scheme against him, and plot to take his life (13).  

 

In other verses, however, he thanks God for rescuing him. In fact, the entirety of verse 5 says, “Into your hand I commit my spirit; you have redeemed me, O Lord, faithful God.” These are not the words of a man who thinks that life is over. Instead, he goes on to say, “I will exult and rejoice in your steadfast love because you have seen my affliction” (7). He may not be out of danger yet, but he has hope. In verses 14-15 he repeats and summarizes it for us: “I trust in you, O Lord. I say, ‘You are my God.’ My times are in your hand.” A cliché in the sports world says, “It’s not over till its over,” and for the psalmist it is not over yet. The end has not come 

 

As I meditated on this psalm I remembered that Jesus undoubtedly knew the entire psalm and understood exactly what the psalmist was saying. The fact that Jesus turned to it as he faced death means that these were not just his final words, they were his motto for life. “Into your hand I commit my spirit … my times are in your hand,” – these words described how he lived as well as how he died. With such deep trust in God, Jesus knew that his life was not over and so he spoke the words of a psalm that faces the reality of pain and suffering and death with faith and hope and courage. In doing so he gave us a model for living that declares it’s never over when God is in it with us. Therefore, the psalm ends with an exhortation for all of us: “Love the Lord, all you his saints. The Lord preserves the faithful … Be strong and let your heart take courage, all you who wait for the Lord” (24-25).  

 

As we take communion today may this be our prayer also: “Father, into your hand I commit my spirit; my times are in your hands.”