Tag: gratitude

Radical Welcome. Revolutionary Love.

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Sermons Year CLeave a comment

Luke 17:11-19

I want to begin this sermon talking a little bit about preaching.

There are basically two kinds of sermons you’ll hear in churches today. One starts with a thought the preacher has. They then hunt through the Bible to find a verse or two to back up that thought.

The second kind starts, not with the preacher’s idea, but with the scripture itself. Preachers who follow this path use a tool called the lectionary, a three-year cycle of readings first shaped by the early church in the fourth century and rooted in the reading traditions of Jewish synagogues. The lectionary keeps preachers from preaching their own pet ideas, and since it always includes a gospel lesson, the preacher is encouraged to interpret each reading through the life and love of Jesus.

That’s the kind of preaching I believe in.

And it’s probably why, in my previous congregations, I’ve been criticized for preaching too many sermons about the poor and marginalized. Because here’s the reality: Besides the truth that Jesus said his very purpose was to proclaim good news to the poor and liberation to the oppressed, there are over two thousand scriptures instructing people of faith how to treat the poor. As Bishop William Barber says, “If you cut all those verses out of the Bible, the whole book would fall apart. There’d be nothing left.”

So yes, I plead guilty—for preaching the Bible in the light of Jesus. And every week, the scriptures amaze me. For they never seem to read like old stories but read more as a mirror to the present. This is why I was taught in seminary to prepare for a sermon with the Bible in one hand and a newspaper in the other, as I would always be able to find a relevant word of challenge and hope.

Today, Luke’s gospel brings us face to face with Jesus on the border, where he once again encounters the marginalized poor who are crying out for mercy.

It’s a beautiful story about healing and gratitude, but when we look closer, we see that it is about so much more than that. It’s about who gets welcomed and affirmed and what kind of love has the power to change the world.

And that’s why it’s the perfect reading to launch our stewardship season with the theme: “Radical Welcome. Revolutionary Love.”

Luke tells us that Jesus is walking along the border between Galilee and Samaria. In 2025, there’s no way we can rush pass that detail. Jesus is on the border—that place where boundaries get policed, where soldiers get sent, where dreams are crushed, and walls get built. It’s the place where the desperate gather, immigrants are scapegoated, and the poor are told to go back to where they came from.

It is there that Jesus meets ten people with leprosy—ten people who know exactly what it means to be told they don’t belong. They’ve each heard the words of Leviticus cherry-picked and used like weapons against them, if you can imagine such a thing:

The person who has the leprous disease shall wear torn clothes and let the hair of his head be disheveled; and he shall cover his upper lip and cry out, ‘Unclean, unclean.’ … He shall live alone; his dwelling shall be outside the camp. (Leviticus 13:45–46)

That’s what marginalization looks like in scripture form, an ancient version of “You’re poisoning the blood of our country.”

So, the outsiders keep their distance while they cry out: “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!”

And isn’t that the same cry echoing all around us today?

It’s the cry of immigrants and of all who are excluded from the opportunities enjoyed by the privileged.

It’s the cry of anyone denied due process under the law or denied representation in gerrymandered voting districts.

It’s the cry of LGBTQ people shut out and abused by the church.

It’s the cry of women who are denied access to reproductive care.

It’s the cry of every Black and Brown neighbor who drives past a Confederate flag waving in the wind—a painful reminder of the systemic racism they are forced to endure.

They all cry out: “Lord, have mercy!”

And what does Jesus do? He doesn’t ignore their cries. And he doesn’t ask for credentials or proof of worthiness. Without asking whether they’re citizens of Galilee or Samaria, he opens a free clinic right there at the border.

But notice something else: Jesus doesn’t just give them free healthcare and send them on their way. He wants to make sure they’re restored back into community. That’s why he says, “Go and show yourselves to the priests.” Because according to the Mosaic Law, only a priest could officially declare them “clean” allowing them to re-enter society.

Because Jesus is never satisfied with individual healing. Jesus wants liberation. Jesus wants justice. He wants inclusion. He wants acceptance, belonging, and abundant life for all.

But the story doesn’t end there.

Out of the ten who are healed, only one turns back to say thank you—and Luke wants to make sure we know that the hero of the story was a Samaritan, the foreigner in the group. The outsider of outsiders. The religious heretic. The one the establishment called impure, illegal, and alien. And when this outsidiest of all the outsiders turns back to Jesus, “Jesus doesn’t say, “Sorry, you’re not one of us.” “Sorry, you don’t sing in our language.” “Sorry, your faith and traditions are different from ours.” He says, “Your faith has made you well.”

This is what radical welcome looks like in a world obsessed with borders—literal and figurative. Who’s in, who’s out. Who’s legal, who’s illegal. Who’s acceptable, who’s disqualified. This is the world Jesus dares to say: “All belong. All are worthy. All can be healed, and liberty and justice can be for all.”

This is the radical welcome we’re called to embody as a church. To be people who don’t just tolerate diversity but celebrate it. To be a community where God’s wide, universal, unconditional embrace is visible, tangible, and undeniable, where every person hears the gospel loud and clear: “You belong here!”

And this welcome is not only radical. It’s revolutionary.

Because this kind of love doesn’t just heal individuals; it transforms systems. It disrupts the status quo. It flips tables. It tears down walls. It not only welcomes—it honors. It not only includes—it affirms.

And because of this, revolutionary love is always costly. It cost Jesus his reputation. It cost him his safety. It eventually cost him his life. But he showed us that the only love worth living for is the kind of love worth dying for.

This is the kind of love we are called to practice. A love that refuses to let anyone stand outside the circle, and keeps widening that circle again and again, no matter the cost. A love that refuses to stay silent in the face of injustice and is always willing to risk comfort for the sake of compassion, willing to be called an “insurrectionist,” to even get shot in the face with a chemical weapon like the Presbyterian Minister in Chicago this week.

So, you may ask, “What does this have to do with stewardship?” The answer is “everything.”

Because stewardship is not about maintaining a building or keeping the lights on. Stewardship is about resourcing the ministry of radical welcome and revolutionary love.

When we give, we’re not paying dues to an institution; we’re investing in liberation.

We’re not buying comfort; we’re building community.

We’re not keeping the lights on; we’re keeping hope alive.

We’re not feeding our souls.

But every dollar we give is bread for the hungry, balm for the wounded, space for the excluded, and hope for the desperate. Every pledge we make is a declaration: “We refuse to be a church of scarcity, fear, or maintenance, but choose to be a church of abundance, courage, and mission!”

Giving to our church is much different than giving to a charity. It’s resistance to the forces of greed and self-interest. It’s protest against a world that says money is for hoarding, power is for the few, people should be divided, and love is conditional.

Giving to our church proclaims: God’s economy is different. In God’s economy, generosity multiplies. In God’s economy, love grows stronger the more it is shared, and our lives become fuller the more we give them away.

It’s the Samaritan who shows us that gratitude itself can be revolutionary. When he turns back to give thanks, he refuses to be silent. He refuses to treat his healing as a private, personal blessing and interrupts our gospel lesson with praise, teaching us that gratitude interrupts despair and fuels generosity.

That’s what this year’s stewardship season is about. It’s an invitation to practice gratitude like that Samaritan. To turn back to Jesus. To say, “thank you.” To recognize that every good gift comes from God, and that the only faithful response is to give back.

So, here’s our call this stewardship season:

To give back by walking the borderlands with Jesus, refusing to let anyone be cast aside.

To practice welcome so radical that people say, “I never knew church could look like this.”

To embody love so revolutionary that systems tremble, powers take notice, and hope is rekindled.

To give with such joy and generosity that the world knows: this is a congregation that truly takes Bible seriously while living in this world as disciples of Christ.

And no, it’s not easy. It takes faith. It takes sacrifice. It takes courage. People will laugh at us, dismiss us, and even attack us. But here’s the good news: the same Jesus who healed the ten and honored the Samaritan is still walking with us. The same Spirit that moved then is moving now.

The lepers cried out for mercy, and Jesus answered. The Samaritan turned back to give thanks, and Jesus affirmed his faith. Today, we stand in that same story. We are the ones who have been welcomed. We are the ones who have been loved. We are the ones who have been healed.

And now it’s our turn. It’s our turn to welcome, to heal, to affirm, to love, to give.

So, let’s stand up with gratitude.

Let’s step out in faith.

Let’s lean forward in love.

Because the world is waiting for a church like this—a church that practices radical welcome and revolutionary love!”

It’s not just a theme or a slogan.

It’s not just the idea of a preacher with some cherry-picked verses to back it up.

It’s the gospel.

It’s the good news.

And it’s our calling.

It’s our witness to the world!

Amen.

Check Your Oil

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Sermons Year ALeave a comment

Matthew 25:1-13 NRSV

Jesus said the Kingdom of God is like a group of bridesmaids getting ready to meet the bridegroom to enjoy a grand wedding reception. Half the bridesmaids are very wise and fill their lamps with oil. The other half are foolish and forget to fill their lamps. Then, when the groom, “Love himself,” shows up to take them to the party, the ones who ran out of oil are left in the dark, while the ones with oil in their lamps go to the wedding banquet and have the time of their lives.[i] Later, when the bridesmaids who forgot to check their oil somehow find their way in the dark to the dance, they find the door to the banquet hall has been shut, and no one any longer knows who they are.

How many times have you heard “You don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone?” You don’t know what you’ve got until a relationship ends, a moment is lost, a freedom is taken away, a right is relinquished, a democracy dies, a window is closed, a door is shut.

I once visited a man in the hospital who one day found himself completely paralyzed from the waist down. After he had a successful surgery to remove two cysts on his spine and had regained the use of his body, he said; “One day, you are going about your business taking everything in life for granted; then the next day, everything is gone.” Then he said, “You better believe, I will never take anything for granted anymore!”

A woman who was suffering with cancer and lost her the ability to perform even the most mundane tasks to take care of herself once told me: “It is amazing how much we take for granted every day. Oh, how I would give anything in the world to be able to get up out of this bed, walk into my kitchen and just pour me a bowl of Froot Loops.” She went on, “You know, when I was healthy, when I could get out of bed and walk to the kitchen, when I could feed myself, when I could chew and swallow my food, I don’t believe I once ever thanked God for a bowl of Froot Loops.”

Who in the world even thinks about the awesome gift of being able to do something as mundane and as boring as pouring a bowl of Froot Loops? Someone who can longer pour a bowl of Froot Loops.

Who thinks about the miraculous gift of being able to walk? Someone who has lost the ability to walk does.

Who thinks about the gift of healthy lungs? Someone living with COPD or asthma does.

Who thinks about their kidneys or their liver? Someone on the way to a dialysis treatment. Someone living or dying with cirrhosis.

And who truly thinks about the miracle that is their life, the miracle that is this creation? People diagnosed with a terminal illness do. Those who have had a close encounter with death do or those who have a loved one on the verge of death or those who lost a close friend or family member to death.

In the epistle of James we read: “What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes” (James 4:14, ESV). In other words, life, creation, appears for a little time, then the window closes, the door is shut.

Frederick Buechner has said:  “Intellectually, we all know that we will die, but we do not really know in the sense that the knowledge becomes a part of us. We do not really know it in the sense of living as though it were true. On the contrary, we tend to live as though our lives would go on forever.”  In other words: “We know we are going to die but we don’t live as though we believe it is true. We live as though we are going to live forever.[ii]

In other words, we are really good at taking life for granted. Most of assume that we will be here tomorrow, at Thanksgiving and Christmas, even next year. We live as if we assume that nothing truly ever ends.

About 15 years ago I walked into an AT&T store to talk to someone about getting a new cell phone. As I as waiting in line, I could not help but to hear the conversation that was taking place between the salesperson and another customer. It went something like this:

 “Here’s my phone that no longer works. Will you be able to retrieve my contacts and put them om my new phone?”

The salesperson, who appeared to be a college student, responded: “Sir, that all depends. Did you back up your contacts on the computer with the USB cord that came with your phone?”

“No,” the man answered with a very frustrated tone. “I was not expecting my phone to just one day die.”

The salesperson said: “Oh, that’s too bad. Then I am afraid your contacts are lost.”

The man was flabbergasted. “What do you mean ‘lost’? This was a very expensive phone. It was the best and latest version on the market when I got it. This phone was not supposed to die!”

It was then I noticed the clerk getting a little exasperated, and then, she responded: “Sir, everything dies. People die!”

There’s nothing like being reminded of your mortality by a college student selling cell phones.

It was about this time of the year in 1997 when the doctors told my grandfather, who had been suffering with lung cancer for over a year, that he would likely not be here for Christmas. Looking back, I remember Granddaddy living more during those last few weeks than he did his entire 74 years on this earth. He no longer worried about the insignificant things that occupy the majority of our time. He took nothing and no one for granted. He traveled to Florida to visit his brother whom he had not seen in a decade. He made it a point to spend precious time his family and his friends. He gave more of his money to the church.

Granddaddy was of that generation, or of that mindset, that didn’t do anything that would cause anyone to accuse him of being soft. For example: I don’t remember him ever holding or playing with my little sister. In fact, never remember him ever holding or playing with any of his grandchildren. I never remember getting a toy from him; but I do remember getting a pocket-knife or two and a BB gun.

It is remarkable then when I think about the picture I have of him that was taken right before his last Thanksgiving. He is holding my daughter Sara in his arms, who was about 5 months old. In the picture he is looking at her as if she was his very own. I will never forget taking that picture and watching him adjusting her tiny dress, touch the ruffles on it with his tough, weathered hands as he held her and smiled.

Granddaddy appreciated each new day as he never had before. He cherished each breath. He was grateful for every bite of food and he relished every sip of drink. He treasured watching sunsets, cherished the frost on cold autumn mornings, and revered his friendships. He took absolutely nothing for granted. During those precious weeks, Granddaddy didn’t miss anything.

Jesus said that the foolish bridesmaids forgot to check their oil and missed the whole dance. They never believed that the door to the banquet was one day going to be shut. And he ends the parable with these words: “Keep awake” (Matthew 25).

Keep awake. Check your oil. Keep your lamp burning. Keep watching and keep looking, recognizing that we are never promised tomorrow. Check your oil. Keep your eyes wide open. Take nothing for granted. Treasure your lungs, your kidneys, your liver. Cherish the ability to walk into the kitchen and pour something as mundane and boring as a bowl of Froot Loops. Relish every taste. Revere every sight and every touch. For in life, nothing is ever mundane. It is never boring. It is all miracle. It is all gift. It is all grace. And it all will certainly one day come to an end.

As you may know that I spent the last four years planting a new expression of church in the Greater New Orleans. My salary was funded by the First Christian Church of Mandeville which had made the decision years earlier to close their doors for good. A few of the former members of the church helped me with the new church plant. I would often here them say: “You just don’t ever think that a church will close, that its ministry will come to an end, that the doors would be shut, and shut for good.”

Keep awake. Check your oil. Keep your lamps burning. Keep worshiping the God of love. Keep following the way of Jesus. Be grateful for every opportunity you are given through this church to serve others. Cherish every chance to love your neighbors with this congregation. Relish every ministry team meeting. And revere every board meeting. Although it is a little work, be thankful for every year we’re able to host the Interfaith Thanksgiving Service and have a Christmas Eve Candlelight service. Be grateful for even what appears to be the mundane or the boring aspects of church, because the truth is, nothing in this world is mundane. Nothing is boring. It is all miracle. It is all grace. And one day, the doors will be shut.

Let’s check your oil. And let’s keep your lamps burning and not miss the bridegroom, Love, love’s self. And let’s dare not miss the dance!

[i] Paraphrased from Frederick Buechner: http://frederickbuechner.com/content/weekly-sermon-illustration-once-upon-time-our-time

[ii] This quote and the remarks in the paragraphs above came from and were inspired by: http://jbailey8849.wordpress.com/2010/07/15/taking-life-for-granted/

Gratitude Is Enough: Remembering Daniel Wald

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn MemorialsLeave a comment

Dan Wald

As a pastor, I have observed that there are basically two types of people in this world. I am aware this is terrible over-simplification, but I believe there is some truth in it nonetheless.

There are those who get it, and those do don’t. There are people in this world who get it, I mean, they really get it. And it is obvious to everyone, in everything that they do, how they live, how they work and how they love, that they got it. And then there are those who do not a have a clue, and it is just as obvious.

There are those who get that all of life is grace. And there are those who don’t get it.

There are those who truly understand that life, this beautiful world, is but a free, unearned, undeserved gift of God’s amazing grace, and there are those who act as if God and the world owe them something.

Dan Wald got it. He really got it. And it was obvious to everyone.

Meister Eckhart once said: “If the only prayer you ever say in your entire life is ‘thank you,’ it will be enough.”

Sadly, there are many people who go through their entire life without expressing in word or deed any real sense of gratitude. There are some who might pray for an hour on Sunday morning in church, and then there are those like Dan who live a life of prayer, who heed the words of the Apostle Paul to the Thessalonians to “pray without ceasing and to give thanks in every circumstance, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.” And to the Ephesians: “always give thanks to God for everything.” And to the Colossians: “Whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father.”

Dan got this. And because he got it, his family, his friends and this city are better for it. Here are seven observations that I believe indicate that Dan’s perpetual prayer was, “Thank you.”

  • Gratitude instills a sense of personal responsibility.

With any gift comes responsibility. When I asked Evelyn, Ashley, Ryan, Courtney and Stephany: “When you remember your father and your husband, what is the one thing for which you are the most grateful?” They said they were most grateful for the way he taught them with his words and deeds personal responsibility. This is not surprising, because when one truly gets that all of life is a gift of grace, that they did nothing to earn their lives, did nothing to deserve to be born, I believe one tends to value life more appreciate it more, and to do whatever they can to make the most out of it, to be responsible with it, and to teach others to do the same.

  • Gratitude instills a staunch work ethic.

Dan was fond of saying: “You don’t have to go to work. You get to go to work!”

People who fail to comprehend the grace of it all, that all is gift, often act as if the world or someone owes them something. So they go through life with a sense of entitlement. On the other hand, someone who gets the grace of it all, that all is gift, unearned and underserved, go through life possessing such a debt of gratitude that they are more than willing to work hard and give back whenever and however they can.

  • Gratitude instills a profound curiosity.

When one is grateful for this mysterious gift we call life, one has such an appreciation for the world that they want to discover as much as they possibly can. They continually desire to gather more information, to study new ideas and to gravitate to new experiences.

This is perhaps why Dan taught himself to be a master multi-tasker. Dan could carry on a conversation with you, and you would never know that through his Bluetooth earbud he was also listening to a news report or a debate on talk radio or a ball game on the sports channel. He was always reading, forever learning, constantly figuring things out.

No one is surprised to learn that he owned one of the earliest computers. He calculated and figured on that thing, while watching a Razorback baseball game, at the same time listening to his weather radio and a Patsy Cline album all the while he conversed with Evelyn about what happened at the store that day.

His children thought he was crazy twenty years ago when he said told them said: “In twenty years we are all going to be carrying TVs in our pockets! And it will also be your phone, camera and computer!

Whatever needed to be fixed, Dan learned how to fix it. Dan was a self-made maker. He taught himself how to make or build anything from a Razorback rocking horse (I guess that is called a “rocking hog” though, wooden puzzles and all kinds of toys for his kids and grandchildren, to furniture, to even a house.

Because of his appreciation for life, because his desire to learn so great, his main concern the last time he was discharged from the hospital a couple of weeks ago was not so much about the possibility of having another stroke, but whether or not he was going to get home in time to watch Jeopardy!

  • Gratitude instills kindness towards others

When one is grateful, when one knows they did not earn or deserve to be born, especially healthy and whole into a good family, one is especially considerate of those who are less fortunate. When he was younger, he had a friend who only had one hand, but who liked to shoot pool. So, to play fair, Dan taught himself to shoot pool with one hand.

When playing games with his children, he would always play with one hand or left-handed to even the playing field. I am not sure what he did, if anything, to even the field though with Dominoes or Chess.

This kindness he exhibited toward others made Dan a good listener, never quick to speak, always choosing his words carefully before speaking. He was respectful to all, to all creeds, all beliefs, all faiths, “to each his own,” he liked to say.

  • Gratitude instills a love for life itself

Frederick Buechner has written: “if you really keep your eyes peeled to it and your ears open, if you really pay attention to it, even in the most limited situations, God through life itself has something to teach you.”  “Taking your children to school.  Kissing your wife goodbye.  Eating lunch with a friend.  Trying to do a decent day’s work.  Hearing the rain patter against the window. There is no event so commonplace that God is not present within it, always hiddenly, always leaving room to recognize him or not to recognize him, but all the more fascinatingly because of that, all the more compellingly and hauntingly.”

“If I were called upon to state in a few words the essence of everything I was trying to say as a novelist and a preacher it would be something like this:  Listen to your life.  See it for the fathomless mystery that it is.  In the boredom and pain of it no less than in the excitement and gladness: touch, taste, smell your way to the holy and hidden heart of it, because in the last analysis, all moments are key moments, and life itself is grace.”

I believe this is exactly how Dan regarded his life. To Dan, vanilla soft-served ice cream on a cruise ship was divine. Blue Bell Moo Bars were holy. Evelyn said if she caught him eating more than one and ask, “Dan, how many are you going to eat?” He would reply: “As many as I want.”

Sweet tea, fresh sweet tea, in a paper cup, not plastic, was sacred. It’s all grace. Snow skiing, water skiing, scuba-diving, white water kayaking, bowling, classic country music, Ribs, brisket or pork in a smoker, sharing it his family—heavenly. Cooking enough for the neighbors— sanctified.

  • Gratitude instills a love beyond self

After Joseph, his father, passed away in early 1997, Danny, keeping a promise he had made earlier to him, was selflessly committed to LaRue, his mother. When she had to stop driving in 2010, Danny would get her ever morning to take her to work. They would often go to lunch together. When her health began to worsen, and she had a difficult time supporting herself and walking, knowing that work was her life and she would be miserable at home, when Danny would walk with her into the shop, he would often carry her purse as she used a walker.

One day, Danny’s sister LaBeth took their mom shopping in NW Arkansas where she fell in love this orange purse. LaRue wanted to get it but she said, “I don’t know what Danny is going to think about having to carrying this orange purse for me!” Of course, Danny was honored to carry it.

Family always came first. Throughout his life, Dan continually put the needs of his family ahead of his own. As a Scout leader with Ryan from Tiger Cubs, Cub Scouts, Boy Scouts all the way until he made Eagle Scout and then continuing for some time afterwards, Dan was always there teaching his children sacred values while teaching countless young men appreciation for God’s creation.

Evelyn called him a “Mr. Mom.” For when she worked as a nurse, he was happy as he could be to get the kids dressed, ready and to school. And he always made sure they had a hearty breakfast as they would always stop by Hardee’s or the doughnut shop along the way.  Evelyn said that Dan never complained tying the girls’ ties and ponytails.

Even during his recent hospital stay, he was thinking about his children and grandchildren, concerned about them driving home, checking the APP on his phone to determine if they made it home safely, wondering if the grandkids were getting their ice cream.

  • Gratitude instills a peace beyond understanding

When one understands that all of life is gift, one has nothing to complain about, nothing to be bitter, angry or resentful about. Even as a young 50-year old, diagnosed with multiple myeloma, Dan remained positive. Having to relocate to Little Rock for treatments everyday for 6 weeks, go through a stem cell transplant, chemotherapy, and the loss of hair, whatever trial Dan experienced, Dan remained hopeful and upbeat. He continued living, continued enjoying life, continued inhaling the grace of it all, scuba diving in Aruba, St. Thomas, and the Keys. And in 2008, he beat it that cancer.

And it seems to me that this was his same attitude during each recent stroke, calm, cool, collected and steadily positive. Without a hint of complaining in his voice, but with almost an excitement: “I am getting a little feeling back in my leg! Let’s do some rehab!”

There was never any complaining, no “woe is me.” No pity party.

Although we are not able to ask him how he remained so positive right up to the end, I believe he would respond with something like, “You know, I didn’t do anything to earn 64 minutes in this world, but I got 64 years. I have nothing to complain about.”

And, the good news is I believe Dan has taught all of us how to deal with our grief today.

Instead of complaining and being bitter over the years disease took from our father, grandfather, brother, husband and friend, Dan taught us to be grateful for every sacred minute we had with him. For each moment was underserved and unearned.

Thus, in what may seem very strange at first, each time the waves of grief come, we can stop and thank God for our grief. For grieving only means that we have lost someone wonderful—someone we did not deserve to have, a free gift of God’s amazing grace: “Thank you God, Daddy, for Danny, for Dan Wald.

And the good news is, even when the shadows of grief overwhelm us, saying that little prayer, “Thank You” will somehow, some miraculous way, be enough. Amen.

A Living Prayer of Thanksgiving: Remembering Margaret Lambke

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Memorials1 Comment

Margaret Lambke

Thirteenth century German theologian and philosopher Meister Eckhart is often credited with the following quote: “If the only prayer you ever say in your entire life is ‘thank you,’ that will be enough.”

If the only prayer you ever say in your entire life is ‘thank you,’ that will be enough.

I believe it is enough, because I believe that the simple prayer, “thank you,” indicates that one understands that all of life is a wonderful, free gift of God’s amazing grace.

I have said before that I believe there there are basically two types of people in this world: People who get the concept of grace and people who don’t get it.

People who fail to see the grace of it all are usually not what we call “good” people. They act as if they have somehow earned their life, done something to deserve their life. They walk around with this air that the world owes them something. And they grow bitter and even hostile if life doesn’t go their way. After all, they deserve better.

And because they feel as if they have earned it, their lives are usually self-absorbed. Selfishly, they do only what they want to do, even if that means doing nothing at all.

Then there are those like Margaret Lambke who get it, who truly understand the sheer grace of it all. They understand that all of life is gift. It is unearned and undeserved. It is mysteriously and utterly precious. And these are who we generally call “good” people.

Filled with gratitude and joy, they live their lives abundantly, enthusiastically, lovingly. Every moment—whether that moment may seem extraordinary or ordinary, miraculous or mundane—every moment, because it is gift, because it is grace, is relished, appreciated and even celebrated.

It is not hard to understand how people like Margaret make the best parents. Margaret absolutely cherished being a mother, and later a grandmother, and great grandmother.

Debbie and Conie, this is because, for your mother, you two, and later your families, all of her grandchildren and great-grandchildren, were gifts of God’s amazing grace, all unearned, undeserved. And she got it.

This is why she remembered, looked forward to, and loved to celebrate every birthday, every anniversary or every life event in your families.

I loved that you will always remember her many voicemails. I think you told me that you could receive over a dozen from her in one day.

“Hi Hon, it’s me, I don’t need anything. Just calling to check on you.”

I believe Margaret called you and left those voicemails as a way of saying: “Thank you.” Thank you for being you. Thank you for being my family. And she called each time her heart was suddenly filled, overflowing with gratitude for you. This is why she called twelve or sixteen times a day!

I believe this immense gratitude which flooded her soul was the exuberant energy behind everything that she did.

There’s no telling how many times she heard someone say to her: “Mar Mar, please sit down. Mar Mar, please rest a while.”

But like the energizer batteries a little pink bunny, the gratitude that overflowed inside of her compelled her to keep going and going and going.

Gratitude is what propelled her to immediately step up and raise her hand whenever anyone asked for a volunteer. Gratitude is how she managed a gift store, helped Jim with bookkeeping in his pharmacy, served as president of PEO, volunteered with mobile meals, played some tenacious tennis, planted and maintained beautiful gardens, made homemade candies and baked her famous Mar Mar bread. Gratitude is what compelled her, no matter how busy she was at the store or with her volunteer work, to always be there for her family. Gratitude propelled her to get in her car and drive to Colorado when she learned Debbie was a little homesick to to drive to the school to give a ride to Conie and the rest of the cheerleaders if they needed one. And gratitude was the reason that no matter how busy she was, she was always a leading candidate for “Mom of the Year.”

Everything she did, every project she undertook, every holiday decoration she created, every Easter egg hunt she hosted, every extra goodie or appetizer she prepared, every Sunday school class she taught, every breath she took, was a prayer of thanksgiving to God for the gift of her life.

“Mar Mar, please sit down!” she would often hear. But the immense gratitude she possessed for Jim and Debbie and Conie, her friends and family, drove her to keep at it, keep working, keep volunteering, keep cooking, keep decorating, keep loving, and keep praying with all that she had that simple but beautiful prayer: “Thank you.”

I am certain this is why it has been so especially painful to watch Margaret these last few years since she suffered a broken hip and the subsequent unsuccessful surgeries. To witness this one who never missed a beat, never slowed down, and never sat down, has been very difficult, to say the least.

And now to think that this one who was so full of life, abundant, exuberant, tenacious, is no longer living with us, well, it can be almost too much to bare.

Conie and Debbie told me that one of their mother’s favorite scriptures was John 3:16: “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.”

It is easy for me to understand why this passage of scripture was special to Margaret. For there is such amazing grace revealed in these beautiful words.

God gave, God gave. Do you hear it? Do you hear the gift? Do you hear the grace? God gave God’s only son, why? For the world earned this gift? For the world deserved this gift? No, for God so loved the world!

So that everyone who believes in this gift, believes in this grace, so that everyone who truly gets it, so that everyone who truly understands that if the only prayer that you every pray in your lifetime is “Thank you” that is enough, so that everyone whose entire life is a prayer of gratitude, they will never perish but have eternal life.

Eternal life. Life without ceasing. Life forever. For people who fail to get it, who fail to appreciate the gift of temporal life on this earth, this is not good news. However, for people like Margaret, for people who truly get it and appreciate it and celebrate it, that life itself is grace, for people who have lived life fully and abundantly and tenaciously and enthusiastically, then this is the best news of all!

And I believe this good news can bring much comfort and peace to those of us who are grieving today.

But I also believe that Margaret taught us that we can find even some more comfort this day.

For you see, Margaret herself was a gift. Margaret was grace. This world didn’t earn her, nor deserve her. We didn’t earn or deserve 8 minutes or 8 days or 8 years, and we got 88 years. Jim you got all but 20 of those years. 68 years of marriage. That is grace.

Knowing Margaret, I believe she is eternally grateful for that. And I believe she has taught us to be eternally grateful to that.

Garth Brooks sings a song entitled “The Dance.” One line of the song goes: “I could have missed the pain, but I would have had to miss the dance.” Our grief today only means that we have received and lost something wonderful. The only way to never grieve is to have never received or appreciated that gift. But as Margaret taught us with her life, to never appreciate it, to never get it, is to never truly live. As the song goes, the only way to miss the pain of loss is to miss the whole dance of life.

So Jim, Conie and Debbie, as I told you last week, every time you remember your mother and shed a tear, be grateful for those tears. Because those tears only mean that you have been graced by God. Those tears only mean, that you like your wife and your mother, also get it.

And because you get that you have been graced by God with the gift of Margaret, because we all get it, may we live out our remaining days on this earth as Margaret lived all of her days, by being a living prayer of thanksgiving.

Grace and Gratitude-Remembering Johnny Matthews

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn MemorialsLeave a comment

johnny-matthews

Grief comes to us in many forms. Many have said that the worst kind of grief is the kind that is experienced suddenly, without warning, without any time to prepare for it, or even brace for it.

This is the how we experienced it on the fourth of September as sharp, sudden grief took us by surprise. There was shock and denial.  “No, God, no, not now.” “Please, Lord, this can’t be.” “I can’t believe it.” There was anger. “How did this happen?” And with all grief, there has been guilt: things we wished we said; things we wished we could have taken back.

And here we are, almost two weeks later, and some may still be having a difficult time accepting it.

We are perhaps having a difficult time accepting it, because Johnny was such a good, fun-loving, people-loving, life-loving person. He has been described this week by the people that he did business with in Tallequah as “a hoot to be around.”

I am not sure if anything actually made him this way, or he was just born with it. For even as a little boy, he he sounded like he was sort of a hoot. His sister Virginia fondly remember their mother taking Johnny with them and some girls in the neighborhood to her Tap, Ballet dance lessons. Because Johnny always had a strong thing for the opposite sex, Johnny didn’t mind going. But then, Johnny must have thought, if I have to go along with them to these lessons, I might as well dance too. So the instructor recruited a few other boys and created a ballet with baseball players and clowns.

That experience may have had something to do with him enjoying ball room dancing later as an adult. Or it could have been that he never did outgrow his affection for the opposite sex!

Johnny loved the arts, loved formal dancing and the type of music that soothes the senses. He appreciated nature, a beautiful landscape: the grandeur of the plains and the majesty of the mountains. But he also loved sports and driving a truck and working on a farm, especially during the harvest.

Johnny loved Cajun food. And Johnny loved Mexican food. Johnny loved food with flavor. But of course, to Johnny, life itself was smorgasbord of spice.

Johnny loved family. His sisters remember him saying and saying often that his children had no idea how much he loved them. Johnny loved family gatherings, for they reminded him of the love he had for grandparents.

There wasn’t anything Johnny would not do for any member of his family. When his sister Virginia was diagnosed with spinal stenosis, had neck surgery, couldn’t walk, like he did when his mother was sick, Johnny dropped everything he was doing and drove to Colorado to stay with Virginia, not for a couple of days, or for a couple of weeks, not even for 2 months, but for 2 years.

And it wasn’t only his family that he would do anything for. He loved to do whatever he could to help anyone he could. His sisters said every time it snowed, he wished he owned a tractor with a plow so he could clear as many driveways and sidewalks. Johnny simply loved people and loved to help people.

I believe Johnny would have loved to know that on the day that his life was celebrated, Heather and Ben ran in this morning’s Great Land Run, pushing a child with exceptional needs, including them in their first 10k race.

Johnny was also very proud of his service to his country, giving four years of his life during the Vietnam War in the United States Air Force.

So when sudden grief came to us on September 4th, we grieved hard. “No, God, no, not now. Please Lord, this cannot be!” And even, today, almost two weeks later, we are still having those thoughts.

 

It grieved me when Joyce told me that Johnny enjoyed worshipping at our church and looked forward to coming back. It grieved me because Johnny is the type of person that pastors love to have in their congregation. A group of ministers were having a conversation one day about how many active church members they had.

One minister said, “How many active church members do I have? Probably about half of them.”  They all chuckled, for they knew that was the sad truth. However, one minister spoke up and said that all of his members were active.

“What?” Asked the others. How can that be?”

He said, “Half act one way, and the other half act another way.”

Johnny would most definitely fall into the category of “the way we want our church members to act: Fun loving, people loving, life loving.”

I believe that is because Johnny truly understood that all of life is but grace. This mystery we call life is all unearned, undeserved. And Johnny lived a life of profound gratitude for it all.

I believe this is the way that he was able to get through the divorce of marriages and not be bitter. Johnny would probably say, “I didn’t deserve to be married to one woman, and I had three.” Instead of being bitter about what he did not have, or what he lost, Johnny was grateful for what he did have.

And people who get that, get that all of life is but grace, are generally good, people loving, life-loving people.  This is why I believe Johnny especially loved Disciples of Christ Churches. He loved the openness of our church, our welcome and love for all people.

And people who don’t get that, that all of life is grace, people who believe life or the world owes them something, that they somehow have earned it, are generally not the type of people that we pastors, especially Disciples of Christ pastors, like to have in our churches.

When Johnny was nineteen years old, he would drive the church bus full of high school youth to out-of-town football games. One night they were on their way back from a game in Stillwater. It was raining cats and dogs. They were heading west and approached a stop sign at a “T-intersection.: With all of the water on the road that night, the brakes failed, and the bus went through the stop sign and ended up sideways, miraculously without rolling over into a ditch. Johnny somehow managed to steer the bus in that ditch another 100 yards before it came to a stop with every on board safe and sound.

Now, I am not sure what was going through Johnny’s mind when the brakes failed on the bus that day. But it might have been something like:

“No, God, no, not now.” “Please Lord, this cannot be.” I am only 19. Never had a chance to marry, have a son and a daughter. Love a son and a daughter more than they will ever know. Become a grandfather to three boys. No, God, no, not now. I have yet to be able to serve my country in the Air Force. Please, Lord, this cannot be. I still have many more ballgames to watch, more spicy food to enjoy! There’s still so many people I want to help. I want to be there for my family and neighbors. I want do what I can for a few more years to make this world a better place. I want to see so much more of the beauty of this world.”

Now, that being said, I am also not sure what was going through Johnny’s mind on September 4 when before his vehicle crossed the center line to crash head on into another car. But it might have been something like:

“O God, please protect those in the other car. Please keep them safe. But as for me…Thank you. Thank you for the grace. Thank you for my life. Thank you for my family. My children and grandchildren. Thank you for the grandeur of the plains and majesty of the mountains. Thank you for music and dancing and food with lots of flavor. Thank you for allowing me to serve my country. Thank you for the grace of it all.

Instead of being bitter about what he was losing, I believe Johnny was grateful for what for all that he had received.

I am certain that the first thing that he learned in eternity was that not one of the three children or the four adults were seriously injured that car accident.

And this, my friends, is how I believe we can all get through the sharp, sudden grief we are still experiencing today. By being grateful for the grace of it all.

Garth Brooks once sang a song entitled “the Dance.” One line of that song goes, I could have missed the pain, but I’d a had to miss the dance.”

The only way to miss the pain we are feeling today is to have never loved Johnny and to have never been loved by Johnny. We grieve today, because we were given a gift of God’s grace named Johnny Matthews. Johnny was himself grace, unearned, undeserved.

And when we can understand that, the sheer grace of it, instead of being bitter for what we have lost, I believe God will give us hearts, souls and minds, as God gave to Johnny, to be somehow be grateful for what we had.

Until that day comes when we will surely see Johnny again, face to face, as we will meet the Giver of all Graces face to face. Amen.

Farewell Farmville

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Farmville Enterprise, Short Articles1 Comment
family 1999
Reception at First Baptist Church, August 1999

When we moved to Farmville in 1999, you taught us the meaning hospitality.

When Lori was hospitalized, you taught us the meaning of empathy.

When Hurricane Floyd flooded our home, you taught us the meaning of kindness.

When terrorists attacked on 9-11, you taught us the meaning of community.

When Lori’s father passed away, you taught us the meaning of compassion.

When I continued my education, you taught us the meaning of generosity.

When we announced our move to Louisiana, you taught us the meaning of love.

When we lived a thousand miles away, you taught us the meaning of friendship.

When we moved back to Farmville, you taught us the meaning of home.

When we faced the stress of a recession, you taught us the meaning of peace.

When we changed denominations, you taught us the meaning of grace.

When we studied the words of Jesus together, you taught us the meaning of discipleship.

When our church grew, you taught us the meaning of inclusion.

When we celebrated weddings, baptisms and child dedications, you taught us the meaning of joy.

When we eulogized our loved ones, you taught us the meaning of hope.

When needs arose in the community, the region and the world, you taught us the meaning of missions.

When Carson and Sara graduated from high school, you taught us the meaning of family.

When we announced our move to Oklahoma, you taught us the meaning of gratitude.

And as we celebrate the holidays together for the last time, you continue to teach us the meaning of Emmanuel, God with us.

Thus, when we say farewell to Farmville in 2016, we know we will fare well.

You taught us that.

 

 

From Sorrow to Joy

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Memorials4 Comments

gone-fishing-600x399Funeral Service for Hubert Chester Outland, Jr.

Aug 23, 1944 – Nov 26, 2014 

Esther 9:20-23 NRSV

John 16:20-24 NRSV

Chester never did care too much for funerals. If he had it his way, we probably would not here this day. Yet, I am sure he knew that, unless he outlived all of us, there would be a service.

“Well, if you’ve got to have a service,” I can almost hear Chester say, with a slight grimace, “at least make it a celebration. Play and sing music that is uplifting. Say things that are hopeful. Be joyful.”

Chester certainly did not want this day to be a day of sadness, of mourning, but a day of gladness, of rejoicing. Instead of a sorrowful, solemn sermon, he would want me to preach a happy, hopeful one, to even tell a joke or two, assuring his friends and family that everything is going to be alright.

“Jarrett,” I can hear him say, “Just tell people: don’t worry. Sing a happy song. If anybody ask where I’m at, just tell them I’ve gone fishing. Just tell them I’ve gone fishing with Daddy and Mama on that beautiful shore in the sweet bye and bye. So, Jarrett, if you have to have a funeral, and as much as I despise a funeral I know you have to, please do me a favor and make it a celebration. And please, do everyone a favor, and try to keep it short.”

“Well, Chester, my good friend, that is much easier said than done.

Because, Chester, you just left us so suddenly. None of us were prepared for it. We are having a hard time accepting it. One minute you’re at the Country Club telling jokes about Obama and the next minute you’re gone. Even now, three days later, it seems more like some strange nightmare from which we cannot wake than it does the reality that we must accept.

And the timing of it, during the start of the holidays, seems to make it even more tragic. As I was sitting with Ben at the hospital, he painfully reminded me that this Thanksgiving was Mernie’s and your 45th wedding anniversary. So Chester, please forgive us if we are somewhat slow and even reluctant to celebrate this day.”

And of course, this day is especially sad because we loved Chester so. And he loved us.

I know I am speaking for more than just me when I say that Chester loved me like I was family. I felt I could go to Chester for any kind of advice, from fishing, golf to finances. It was eight years ago that Chester taught me how to fry my first turkey for Thanksgiving. After I rubbed the bird down and injected it per Chester’s precise instructions, Chester made me come to his house to fry it, so he could supervise and prevent me from blowing myself up.

This is a difficult day, for how many of us here will not miss the way Chester loved us with his wonderful, yet peculiar sense of humor.

One day, he and Ben were fishing for trout off the train trestle in Beaufort. While they were fishing, one of his shoes got caught on the trestle, slipped off and fell in the inlet and was immediately swept away by the current. After a great day of fishing, a man noticed Ben and Chester walking off the trestle, Chester limping a bit, wearing just one shoe. The man asked, “Did you lose your shoe?” Chester said: “No, I found one.”

Yes, today is a sad day as we will miss his quick wit, his funny stories and his dry sarcasm. We will miss all the ways he made us smile, by playing a prank or by cooking us a meal.

This day is especially difficult for his family as Chester loved planning and cooking a meal, especially for a family gathering such as Thanksgiving. All who knew Chester knew that his family meant everything to him: his sister Niki and Eddie; his niece Lou, Tim and great nephew Nick; his daughter Emily, her fiancé Joey, his son Ben and Beth; his adopted grandchildren whom he loved as if they were his own blood, Hunter and Landon, his grandchildren Haley, and Jamison; and his wife of 45 years Mernie.

More than anything, Chester wanted all of you to be happy and fulfilled. For when you hurt, he hurt. When you were not satisfied, he was not satisfied. Although he had spent much putting Ben through school to go into law enforcement, he did not get upset when Ben changed his mind. As tight as Chester was, he never showed any disappointment. On the contrary, Chester encouraged Ben to do what was going to make him happy.

While her friends were critical of Emily’s selfless career choice to be a teacher in North Carolina, saying that she was never going to make any money, Chester encouraged Emily to follow her heart and do what was going to give her the greatest fulfillment. As much as he believed in the importance of making enough money to save some for a rainy day, he never complained that Emily did not have a more lucrative career.

And Mernie, for 45 years, Chester loved you, and although there were times you spent more money than he liked for you to, he would do anything he could do to provide for you, to care for you, to make you comfortable, to make you happy. It grieved him to watch you suffer as you have this past year.

And along with his family, this whole community is saddened this day, as Chester sacrificially protected us and our country when he was younger serving in the National Guard. Chester made this a better place to live as he gave himself in his retirement to the country club, and he as gave himself throughout his life to the service of this church as a faithful usher. He was a friend and encourager to so many, always doing all he could do to make us smile, bring us happiness.

So to transform this sad day into day of gladness, this day of sorrow into a day of rejoicing and celebration, is much easier said than done.

But this is what our faith in God is all about. Throughout history, God has always been in the business of transforming: transforming defeat into victory, despair into hope, and sorrow into joy. The cross of our Lord is just one example of this great truth.

In the wonderful little book of Esther, we are told about the Persian Empire’s plot to destroy the Jewish people. Under Queen Esther’s leadership, the Persians are defeated and Israel was saved. Mordecai, who had adopted Esther, and raised her as if she was his own blood, decreed that the days had been transformed “from sorrow into gladness and from mourning into a holiday; that they should make them days of feasting and gladness…”

Days of sorrow transformed into gladness. Days of mourning transformed into a holiday. Days of grief transformed into days of feasting and gladness. This is exactly what Chester Outland Jr. would want this day and in these days to come.

But, again, that seems easier said than done. It was just all so sudden. We have all lost so much. And right at Thanksgiving.

Again, I can almost hear Chester’s voice: “Well, that’s the whole reason you should be celebrating.”

“Yes, it was sudden,” I can hear Chester say, “But who on earth has ever said: ‘When it is my time to go, I hope it is slow and drawn out.’ Especially after watching my daddy suffer the way he did after his stroke. I have often said, ‘When it is my time, I hope it is sudden and fast.’ And I hope to be doing something that I love. I hope to be out there giving myself to something like the country club. I hope to be doing physically well enough to play golf if it’s not raining. Right before I go, I hope to feel good enough to tell one last joke about Obama.

And yes, you have lost much, for God had certainly blessed by life with much. God has blessed me in my life with good health, the ability to do what I loved, the opportunity to play golf and go fishing. God blessed me with great friends and a wonderful family. Yes, like all families, we have had some tough times, but I was able to see us through them. Ben and Emily have jobs that they love. Emily is happy again as Joey has come into her life. I have been able to be there for my grandkids, all of them. I have been able to show them that I love each one of them the same. And how many people can say that they have been happily married for 45 years to the same person?

And the timing? Although I missed cooking for my family, if I had to go sometime, (and we are going some time) I can think of no better time for me to go than this week of Thanksgiving. For I left this world grateful, grateful for the life that God had given me, grateful for my family, grateful for the life that I was given, grateful that in the end I did not suffer.

So, please be grateful with me, celebrate with me, rejoice with me, give thanks with me and trust God to do what God has done throughout history and take these days of sorrow and transform them into days gladness, take these days of mourning and make them into a holiday, take these days of grief and make them days of feasting and gladness. Prepare feasts for your loved ones, the way that I taught you. Love each other, the way I loved you. The way our Lord taught us to love. Make one another laugh. Make someone happy. And when you do, think of me, and be thankful.”

When Jesus was preparing his friends and family for his death, he spoke these beautiful words which were recorded by John:

Very truly, I tell you, you will weep and mourn…you will have pain, but your pain will turn into joy. When a woman is in labor, she has pain…But when her child is born, she no longer remembers the anguish because of the joy of having brought a human being into the world. So you have pain now; but I will see you again, and your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take your joy from you.

Just as Chester wanted, I believe our days of sadness will be transformed into days of gladness when, instead of being bitter for what we lost, we become grateful for what we had. These days of mourning will once more become holidays. However, that is not saying that we will not continue to have pain. Even when our hearts are bursting with gratitude, even we are the most thankful for what we had in a friend, a brother, a uncle, a father, a grandfather, and a husband, we will continue to have some pain. However, Jesus promises that all of our pain will one day be transformed into joy.

As a mother forgets her pain during labor when she holds her baby, Jesus says that when we see Chester again, when we see our Lord, all of the pain that we have this day and in the days to come will be transformed into joy.

So, for those of us with faith in Christ, this is a day of gladness and rejoicing. This is a day of celebration. This is a day of hope. And if we listen, we can almost hear Chester say:

“I am with Mama, and I am with Daddy. I am with my Lord. Tell people: don’t worry. Everything is going to be alright. Sing a happy song. If people ask where I’m at, just tell them: I’ve gone fishing.”

Grace of Froot Loops

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Farmville Enterprise, Just a Thought1 Comment

Froot Loops

Excerpt from Check Your Oil for The Farmville Enterprise.

How many times have you heard “You don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone”? You don’t know what you’ve got until a relationship ends, a moment is lost, or a freedom is taken away.

A woman suffering with cancer, who lost her ability to perform even the most mundane tasks, once told me: “It is amazing how much we take for granted every day. Oh, how I would give anything in the world to be able to get up out of this bed, walk into my kitchen and just pour me a bowl of Froot Loops.” She went on, “When I was healthy, when I could get out of bed and walk to the kitchen, when I could feed myself, when I could chew and swallow my food, I don’t believe I ever thanked God for something as boring as a bowl of Froot Loops.”

Who in the world even thinks about the awesome gift of being able to do something as mundane and as boring as pouring a bowl of Froot Loops? Someone who can longer pour a bowl of Froot Loops thinks about it.

Who in the world thinks about the miraculous gift of being able to walk? Someone who has lost the ability to walk.

Who in the world thinks about the gift of healthy lungs? Someone living with COPD.

Who in the world thinks about their kidneys or their liver? Someone on the way to a dialysis thinks about their kidneys. Someone living or dying with cirrhosis thinks about their liver.

And who in the world the world truly thinks about the miracle that is their life, the miracle that is this creation? People diagnosed with a terminal illness do. Those who have recently lost a loved one to death do.

In one of his parables, Jesus said that some foolish bridesmaids missed the whole dance, because they forgot to fill their lamps with oil and did not see the bridegroom when he showed up. Jesus ended the parable with the admonishment: “keep awake” (Matthew 25).

Keep awake. Check your oil. Keep your lamp burning. Don’t miss the dance. Keep watching and keep looking, recognizing that we are never promised tomorrow. Take nothing for granted. Don’t wait until it’s gone to know what you’ve got. Treasure your lungs, your kidneys, and your liver. Cherish the ability to walk into the kitchen and pour something as mundane and boring as a bowl of Froot Loops. Relish every taste in creation. Revere every sight and every touch in this world. For in life, nothing is ever mundane. It is never boring. It is all miracle. It is all gift. It is all grace.

Grace and Gratitude: Remembering Ronnie Avery

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn MemorialsLeave a comment

The Second Miraculous Catch of Fish

From Ronnie Avery’s Memorial Service February 8, 2004.

Luke 5:1-11 NRSV

“Grace” and “gratitude.”  The two words come from the same Latin root and belong together.  Grace is when God does something for us that God did not have to do.  And the only way to respond to God’s amazing grace is with humble gratitude.

The soon-to-be disciples were in a boat with Jesus just offshore.  Jesus asked Simon, who had been fishing all night without catching a thing, to drop his nets out in some deeper water.  When he did they filled up the boat with so many fish that the boat began to sink!  They signaled another boat to come over to help.  Then they filled that one up!  They barely got back to shore before the boats sank under the weight of the fish.

These fishermen had never seen anything like it before. It was a miracle. It was also grace. Jesus did something for these ordinary fishermen that Jesus did not have to do. That is the definition of grace. And the fisherman responded with humble gratitude as they “dropped everything” to follow Jesus. They left their old lives behind on that beach, to worship and to serve Jesus for the rest of their lives.

The disciples responded to grace the same way Ronnie Avery responded to the grace that he received.  Ronnie would be the first person to tell you that he was on a road in the summer of 2003 that was leading him to a place that he did not want to go.  When he was hospitalized in July of that year, gravely ill with congestive heart failure, he realized this, and was filled with fear.

That day in ICU Ronnie said that he prayed a prayer that went something like this: “Oh God, not now.! Please don’t let me die now!  Please save me God, and I promise I’ll get myself right and start living for you.”

He said when he opened his eyes from that prayer, he saw me standing there in front of him for the very first time.

I had a short prayer with him and said, “Ronnie, I sure am glad to meet you, but I am sorry that it had to be under these circumstances here in the hospital.”

I will never forget how he responded. He said, “You’re getting ready to see a lot more of me, because I am going to be sitting on a pew in your church the first chance I get, and I am going to be sitting on one every Sunday that I possibly can!”

Ronnie told many people that on that day, in that moment, his life miraculously changed forever.  Not only was he suddenly and miraculously healed of a disease which had plagued his entire adulthood, it was in that moment that he began to live his life like those fishermen—fishermen who one day dropped everything, left their old lives behind them, to live a brand new life following Jesus. And this was the real miracle.

The very first Sunday that he was able, Ronnie was sitting on a pew in church, just like he said. A little over a month later, Ronnie joined the church.  He came every Sunday and every Wednesday night he could.  He gave faithfully our church’s budget.  He contributed generously to the fund set up by the church to help pay the tuition for my doctorate.  He loved his wife more sincerely.  He loved his siblings more deeply.  He loved his children and stepchildren and family and everyone he knew more earnestly.  Although he was weak and tired, he spent the entire first day of 2004 loving his sister-in-law, Donna, in the emergency room of Wake Forest University Hospital in Winston-Salem.

He repeatedly told me that he wished he was well enough and strong enough to do more.  However, the truth was, Ronnie did more for the Lord in six months than most people do their entire lives.

Ronnie would tell people that I changed his life.  He even said that I saved his life. However, we all know this was not true.  And deep inside, Ronnie knew that was not true.  God saved Ronnie’s life. God changed Ronnie’s life. I just happened to be the one who happened to be standing at his beside after his fearful prayer to God.  God used me to give Ronnie something that God did not have to give Ronnie: grace. Amazing grace: free, unearned, undeserved and unmerited.  And Ronnie responded like fishermen with humble gratitude and sincere thankfulness.

God also used Ronnie’s family members the same way God used me. God used so many people through the steadfast love they had for Ronnie.  They loved Ronnie with a love that was unwavering.  Each of his siblings, Steve, Dianne and Shirley, loved Ronnie with the steadfast love of their mother, Mary.  With his faithful wife, Becky, they never gave up on him. They showered Ronnie with the grace of God—unearned, undeserved and unmerited.

At Ronnie’s funeral service on February 8, 2004, I shared something that I had never shared with anyone before.  I tried to share a little of it with Ronnie on the way back from Winston-Salem on January 1, 2004.

Ronnie told many that I changed and saved his life.

What many did not know was the extent of which Ronnie changed and quite possibly saved me.

There is a disturbing and alarming statistic concerning pastors.  After just ten years of ministry, 30% of pastors drop out of the ministry.  After ten years, many pastors wake up and just decide that being a pastor is simply not worth all of the heartache and heartbreak. Trying to please people is a very demanding and stressful job. Not to mention, impossible. Many pastors decide that the burden that is placed their families is simply not fair. And many come to a place where they feel they are ceasing to make a difference. So they drop out and leave the ministry all together. You will find many of them selling insurance or real estate.

Personally, since I have been a pastor, I have always experienced a strong call to pastoral ministry. There was never any doubt in my heart or mind that serving as a pastor is what God was calling me to do, until 2003.  That marked my eleventh year of ministry.  I was at the point where 30% give up and drop out.  The first six months of that year were the most difficult six months of my entire ministry. The heartache of trying to please everyone and the heartbreak of failing to please everyone was wearing me down. The church was taking in fewer new members, and we were failing to meet our budget.  Church attendance was down, and I was at the darkest point in ministry wondering if I was really making a difference in anyone’s life.  I was contemplating joining the 30% of my colleagues by seeking another profession.

Then came a hot day in July. I went to the hospital to visit with the family of Howard Evans and Venetia Kue. I got off the elevator on my way to see Venetia and ran into Donna Mosley. She told me about Ronnie and sent me directly to see him in ICU.  And I have never, and I will never be the same.

For you see, on that day God showered two people with grace. Amazing grace—unearned, undeserved, unmerited. God was not finished with Ronnie, and God was not finished with me.  After ten years, God was still using me and calling me to be a pastor.  God may have used me to save and change Ronnie, but I will thank God the rest of my life that God used Ronnie to save and change me–as God used Ronnie to change so many others.

Ronnie continually told me that he wished he could do more for the Lord through the church.  I tried to tell him in the car on the way back from Winston-Salem  just a month before he died, and I hope to God that God has told me now, that he did more for the Lord than he ever knew. Ronnie saved my ministry and quite possibly my life.  And I will thank God for Ronnie Avery the rest of my life, as will many others.

In that ICU room, Ronnie said, “You’re getting ready to see a lot more of me, for I am going to be sitting on a pew in your church the first chance I get and I am going to be sitting on one every Sunday that I possibly can.”

Now I hate to admit it, but deep within my sometimes cynical self, I thought, “Sure you will.”  I didn’t graduate from seminary yesterday.  I had been a pastor for eleven years.  I know how most people work.

When most of us are given a gift which is completely undeserved, unearned, and unmerited, a gift that changes our lives, at first we are grateful.  But then our gratitude begins to wane. I expected to see him on a pew one Sunday, maybe two Sundays, but I certainly did not expect to see as much of him as I did, and I never expected that he would have the impact on my life that he did.  That’s the way grace and gratitude works with most people.

But thank God, Ronnie Avery was not most people.

Like fishermen dropping their old lives in the sand to leave them behind for a brand new life, Ronnie Avery certainly dropped his old life in exchange for another.

How did he do it?  Why didn’t his gratitude wane like most people?

Because Ronnie lived everyday of the rest of his life acknowledging that God had done something for him that God did not have to do. God had showered Ronnie with grace. Amazing grace—free, unmerited, undeserved, unearned. And Ronnie was grateful.

Think of what the church of Jesus Christ could be and what the church could do, if all of us made this simple acknowledgement: That God has given us something that God did not have to give us.  The gift of life.  The gift of friends and family.  The gift of himself.  The gift of resurrection.  The gift of life everlasting.

Think of the difference we could all make if we woke up each morning with the prayer that I believe was Ronnie Avery’s prayer everyday:  “Today God has given me something that he did not have to give me, something that I did not have coming to me—something completely unearned, undeserved, unmerited.”

I believe our lives will truly bear witness to the love and grace of our Lord Jesus Christ. We will be the people God is calling us to be.  We will be the church God is calling us to be. And there is no telling how many people, and even pastors, may be changed along the way.