Tag: grief

A Crowded Table

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Sermons Year B1 Comment

Sermon delivered during the Interfaith Service of Unity at Peakland Baptist Church in Lynchburg, VA, Thanksgiving Day 2024

Isaiah 25:1-9 NRSV

I begin the sermon with the two questions that are on everyone’s mind today: #1 “Will this divided nation ever come together?” And #2 “When will there finally be peace on earth?”

Nah. That’s not it. The questions on everyone’s mind today are: #1 “What’s for dinner?” and #2 “Who’s all invited?”

The prophet Isaiah answers the first question “What’s for dinner?” with a song about God’s promise of a generous and extravagant table where (as we read in the New Revised Standard Version):

The Lord of hosts will make a feast of rich food, a feast of well-matured wines, of rich food filled with marrow, of well-matured wines strained clear.

I imagine Isaiah adding: “Did I mention we’ll be havin’ well-mature wines and rich food?”

Isaiah understands that life is best celebrated with plenty of delicious food and the best wines, particularly when times have been dark, when the table’s been empty, when the cupboards ae bare—when tyrants have the upper hand, when the shadows of chaos and catastrophe cover a nation, like it is being punished for their poor choices causing the entire creation to suffer.

In the previous chapter of Isaiah, we hear the desperate lament of the prophet:

The earth is utterly broken, the earth is torn asunder, the earth is violently shaken…the moon… abashed, and the sun ashamed (24:19, 23).

A dark shroud of universal dismay and despair covers the land. And there, under the dismal cover of darkness, everything good seems to be wasting away.

Of course, the first thing Isaiah grieves is the wine cellar. Isaiah cries out:

The wine dries up, the vine languishes, all the merry-hearted sigh, the mirth of the timbrels is stilled, the noise of the jubilant has ceased (24:7-8).

It is in this dry, dark, and desolate setting that a shocking announcement is made by the prophet. It comes in the form of a gracious invitation to attend a most extravagant dinner table with rich food and plenty of delicous wine!

Which brings us to the second question on our minds this day. Now that we know what’s for dinner, we want to know who’s all invited?

And here comes the real shock. Who’s invited? All are invited to enjoy the feast.

And notice that it’s like Isaiah understands that such radical inclusion will be difficult for some folks to believe. So, the prophet uses the word “all” five times in three verses to make sure he gets his point across!

In verse 6 we read that the table is “for all peoples.” And just in case some interpret all peoples to mean just the legal, documented citizenry, the prophet adds, “all nations, and all faces.”

Talk about a crowded table! A table where everyone whose got a face is welcome!

“All are welcome.” That’s the words that we are accustomed to seeing outside some of our houses of worship or our meeting places, right? All are welcome. But it was my son who once pointed out the fallacy of that simple welcome. Referring to the sign outside a church building where I once served, he commented: “Dad, all can’t be welcome unless someone is doing the welcoming. A better sign would read, ‘We welcome all.’”

I had never thought about that. But he’s right. For all to be welcome, someone must do the welcoming. Someone must put in some effort. Someone must take some initiative. Someone must have some radical intentionality to create the revolutionary hospitality. Especially if all faces are invited. Especially if strange faces might show up. And most especially if the table is going to be crowded with strange faces.

I will never forget the first time that my wife Lori came home with me to meet my parents back in 1987, a few months before we were engaged to be married. I am very tempted right now to tell you that it was Thanksgiving, but it was actually Easter.

After attending worship that Sunday, my family gathered around a very crowded table for dinner, nine of us scrunched up together to sit at a table made for six. My aunt and uncle and cousin joined my brother, sister, Mom, Dad, Lori, and me. I was sitting at one end of the able. Dad was seated to my left. And Lori was seated to my right.

As my father asked the blessing using the vernacular of King James in 1611, to make Lori feel welcome at the strange, crowded table, I took my foot under the table and gave Lori a little love-tap on her ankle. (Most inappropriate during the high Old English Eastertide blessing my father was offering, but I suppose that’s what made it so much fun). Feeling my affection under the table in the middle of the prayer, Lori made eye contact with me gave me the sweetest little grin. I know, we were so bad.

A few minutes went by, when Lori got the notion to reciprocate, reaching out her toe to tap my foot. But when she looked over at me, she was rather disappointed to see that I didn’t react. So, she did it once more, this time, a little more playfully. But again, I was as cool as a cucumber, sitting there eating my dinner like it never happened.

That’s because it never happened. Lori, in a state of confusion sat back and peered under the table, only to discover that she had been flirting with my father!

But here’s the thing. My dad also never reacted. He too sat there like it never happened.

Now, I can only come up with two explanations for Daddy’s stoic lack of response. The first one, which I refuse to believe, is that is he enjoyed it and didn’t want her to stop. So, the conclusion I have chosen to draw is that he realized that Lori, bless her heart, didn’t really know what she was doing, and thus he made the decision to extend grace. Instead of embarrassing her, he chose to forgive her, accept her, and love her.

To set a crowded table where every face is welcomed, all those at the table must be intentional when it comes to grace, more so if strange faces are present. All the grace Daddy offered that day would have been for naught, if my cousin, or one of my siblings, was gawking under the table judging all the inappropriate footsie carryings-on.

To set a gracious table, one where every face fed feels safe, appreciated, respected, affirmed, liberated, and loved, takes some work, especially for those faces who have not been feeling those things. To set such a table might mean that we have to go so far as to turn over a table or two. It might mean we need to get into some trouble, in the words of John Lewis, “some necessary trouble, some good trouble.”

Because as history as proved, there are always privileged tyrants in the world who believe it’s their role to play the judge: deciding who deserves a seat at the table and who should be excluded or deported.

I believe it is notable that the Hebrew word for “tyrant” is repeated three times in three verses (verses 3, 4 and 5). In Isaiah 13 and 49, we read that Babylon was the tyrant. But here in chapter 25 the lack of a specific reference conveys the frequent cyclical threat of tyrants throughout history—tyrants in every age whose refusal to demonstrate love and grace, to treat every face with equality and justice, benefits them and their friends at the top, while everyone else suffers, while “the wine drys up, the vine languishes, and all the merry-hearted sigh.”

In every generation, there are those seek to enrich themselves at the expense of others. And fearing a revolt of the masses who will certainly suffer, they lie and make up stories, conning the masses to believe that it’s not them and their oligarch cronies who are preventing them from having a seat at the table, sharing in the rich bounty of the table, but it’s some poor marginalized group who’s preventing them.

It’s the poor and the immigrants, the Eunuchs and the sexually different, the widows and the unmarried, we should fear. They are the ones who are poisoning our blood, making us weak, destroying our culture. The tyranny of the greedy and the powerful who are now at head of the table have nothing to do with our low position or no position at the table, or why there is so little on the plate in front of us.

So, not seated at the prophet’s extravagant table set with rich food and fine wines for all faces, are the tyrants. Because the problem with just one tyrant at the table is that all faces will no longer feel welcomed at the table, especially those who hunger and thirst for a seat at the table, those who have been the victims or the scapegoats of tyranny. These were Isaiah’s people, the faces for whom the prophet was most concerned: the faces of all who have been pushed to the margins: the faces of widows and orphans, the faces of Eunuchs and foreigners, the faces of the poor and needy.

This is the sacred table I believe people of faiths are being called to set in our world today: a large, crowded table where there is no injustice, no bullying, no cruelty, no hate, and no oppression whatsoever.

Setting such a gracious table will most certainly require possessing the courage to flip a table or two, as we will have to work diligently to prevent anything, or anyone, opposed to love from taking over the table.

Public dissent is essential around the table, because the one thing that tyrants count on is the silence of others. As the old German saying goes: “If one Nazi sits down at a table with nine people, and there is no protest, then there are ten Nazis sitting at that table.”

However, when the nine stand up, speak up, and speak out, taking steps to ensure that just love remains at the table, either the fascist will leave the table, taking their prejudice, fear, hate and toxicity with them, or they will find grace for themselves, experience liberation and redemption, and be given a welcomed place at table.

And in the safe space of the table, as the people eat and drink together, as they share their grief and cry together, as they are filled with grace and love together, the dark shroud that had been covering their world will begin to dissipate, and suddenly they will once again be able to celebrate and to laugh together.

Gathered around the crowded and diverse table, Palestinian and Jew, Ukrainian and Russian, Indigenous people and colonists, queer and straight, documented and undocumented, able-bodied, and differently-abled, brown, black and white, all God’s children begin to understand that they share more in common than that which divides them, most importantly, one God, one Lord, and Creator of all faces. And there around the prophetic table, they are able to see their great diversity as the very image of God.

So, what’s for dinner?

As prejudice leaves and fears are relieved and tears are wiped away, mercy and compassion are for dinner.

As disgrace is forgiven and barriers begin to fall, grace and love are for dinner.

As despair dissipates and sorrow fades, hope and joy are for dinner.

As plates are passed and the wine is consumed, as people are seen, their voices are heard, and their beliefs are respected, as enemies become friends, and strangers become siblings, peace and salvation are for dinner.

And who’s all going to be there?

Here, now, this afternoon, tomorrow, next year, and well into the future, around our family tables, around the tables of our faith, around the table of our city, around the table of our nation, around the table of the earth, all who believe in love and need love, all who hunger and thirst for justice, are going to be there! Your faces are going to be there, and my face is going to be there. We are all going to be there, regardless of our religion or lack thereof, ensuring that no one and no thing opposed to love, no matter how powerful, will be there.

And the good news, proclaims Isaiah, is that our hungry and thirsting God will be also there, seated in our midst at the very crowded table, swallowing everything in heaven and on earth that divides us from one another, and consequently, from the love of God.

God will be there with a ravenously righteous appetite, swallowing even death, forever. And the most divided of nations will be united as all become one, and on earth there will be peace, as the entire creation is born again. Amen.

Life Like a Country Song: Remembering Robert Dean Shaw

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn MemorialsLeave a comment

Bob shaw

Bob Shaw loved music, more specifically country music, more specifically pre-1960 country music, and more specifically, pre-1960 country music that you could dance to, or at least tap your toe to. The kind of songs that were earthy, rural, set in a small town or in a farming community. Songs stirring patriotism and championing hard work. Songs speaking about lasting love and songs speaking about love lost and heart break. Songs speaking about rural life: the land, raising children and bird dogs, hunting and catfishing. Songs of sacrifice and worrying about the kids and the dogs.

Bob loved another Bob with the last name of Wills, known as the King of Texas Swing.

Bob had such a love for Texas Swing that he taught himself to play the guitar, and steered his daughter Ronda away from the flute, an instrument that may never have been played in the Texas Playboy band. Bob even took some guitar lessons in his late in his forties.

I don’t believe Bob’s love for country music should not surprise anyone who reads reads his obituary, as his epitaph reads like lyrics to a country song, you might say, some good ol’ Texas Swing.

Born in Lacey, Oklahoma, a small rural farming community, Bob attended Mound Ridge, a one room school house.

Bob Wills once sang of the rural, slow paced, southern way of life that Bob Shaw was born into:

Yes, this is Southland, where everything’s fine

It’s where they really live and give you a feeling

That you’re welcome any time

You’ll find our men are stronger, women sweeter

And you’ll live much longer, no rush every day.

Bob graduated from high school and was drafted into the United States Army, serving from 1953 to 1955 during the Korean Conflict. He was stationed in what he called “cold and dark Greenland,” building a runway to defend the North Atlantic from a possible Russian advance. Those years of service were difficult for Bob. He lost a dear friend and comrade in an explosion, and Bob himself was injured in an accident with a Jeep. This service and sacrifice, this love for country led him to later become the Commander and District Commander of the American Legion. Bob’s love for country is perhaps what attracted him the patriotic music of Bob Wills’. One song goes:

When the Yanks raised

The Stars and Stripes on Iwo Jima Isle

Ev’ry heart could sing once again

And the sight of Old Glory over Iwo Jima Isle

Swelled the hearts of our fighting men

After serving his country, Bob moved to Kingfisher where he worked for Cimarron Electric, and later he would move to Enid to work with OG&E where he continued to sacrifice for others. Working with electricity is a dangerous venture, but being a lineman, is another kind of danger.

One day, in Pawhuska, Oklahoma, Bob was on the ground while a fellow lineman was high in a bucket truck working on an electric line. Not knowing that the line was live, his co-worker grabbed the line. The electricity immediately grabbed and held on to him, until Bob says he could see smoke appear to come from the top of his head. Without hesitation, and putting himself at risk, Bob climbed the pole and pulled his co-worker off of the line, saving the man’s life.

Bob would find love, have two sons, but then, like a country song, lose love, as his first marriage would not last.

Bob Wills sings of the heartbreak of love lost:

No more to be sweetheart, no more to be friend

My yesterdays haunt me, my weary heart cries

I just can’t go on, dear, with tears in my eyes.

However, Bob Wills also sings of the hope of finding new love:

I’ll have somebody else as soon as you are gone

You’ll never break my heart no more

I used to weep and sigh each time we said goodbye

You broke my heart so often, there’s no more tears to cry.

And in 1969, Bob married Linda Kisling.

Celebrating the joy of lasting love Wills sings:

Stay all night, stay a little longer

Dance all night, dance a little longer

Pull off your coat throw it in the corner

Don’t see why you don’t stay a little longer.

And that is just what Linda did, standing faithfully by his side for 47 years. The two of them had one child together, his only daughter, Ronda.

Bob enjoyed hunting quail on the farm. He and his bird dogs also hunted ducks, turkeys and pheasants. He also enjoyed fishing, especially catfishing. Bob liked to get a way, and enjoy the outdoors. Bob believed in working hard, but he also believed in taking it easy.

Bob Wills sings:

I might have gone fishing. I got to thinking it over.

And the road to the river is a mighty long way,

Now it could be the season, no rhyme or no reason,

Justa taking it easy, it’s my lazy day

Bob Shaw’s obituary closes: Bob is survived by his wife, Linda, a daughter ,Ronda and her husband Terry, two sons, Jerry Walker, Larry Walker and his wife, Candy, three grandchildren, seven great-grandchildren and one sister, June Lindsey. He was preceded in death by a brother.

When I asked Bob’s family how Bob expressed his love and devotion to them, they all agreed: “He worried about us.” Ronda said that he especially worried about her driving, arriving at her destination safely, wherever that may have been. Bob would probably agree that worry is the price that parents pay for the gift of children.

Again, Bob Wills sings:

Woe is me, so is you

What a price to pay

Tell me what I’m gonna do

I can’t go on this way

Every night I walk the floor

Worried over you

All I do is watch the door

Hopin’ you’ll come through

Pacin’ up, pacin’ down

‘Til the break of day

I’m the saddest soul in town

I can’t go on this way

Where are you at tonight?

Now, I do not believe that Bob Shaw’s worry meant that he lacked faith in God. For after his heart surgery, Bob made a grateful promise to God that he’d be more faithful in his church attendance. Keeping his promise, Bob and Linda would arrive around 9 am for the 10:15 service almost every Sunday! They sat together on the same bench for over an hour in the gathering area waiting for the service to begin. It was kind of their spot.

Thus, I don’t believe that Bob’s worry meant his faith was weak. I believe it only meant that he loved you so. Worry was simply the price that he paid for love.

I believe it is good to be reminded that, like worry, grief is also the price we pay for love. Grieving only means that we have loved have loved another the way our creator has intended for us to love another.

Garth Brooks, a post-1960 country music star that Bob probably never listened to, sings 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 pain in life is to miss love in life. But to never love someone the way you loved your husband, your father, your brother, your grandfather and great grandfather is to never really live. As the country song goes, the only way to miss the pain of loss is to miss the whole dance of life.

You loved Bob, and now you are paying the price for that love. Grief is the consequence of love. But you know something? Everyone of us here this day, is going to go on courageously loving one another because the ones we love are worth that price. You have loved.  And now you grieve.

So I say to you this afternoon, grieve. Grieve long and deeply. Do not dare run away from it. Do not treat it as if were a stranger you could send away, or deny that grief, because who does not know any better thinks it means your faith is weak. Grieve what is lost. Grieve honestly, lovingly and patiently. Grieve until your cup is emptied. For this is the only way back to wholeness.

Grieve and even thank God or your grief. Because like Bob’s worry, your grief only means you loved. However, also remember the words of the Apostle Paul in his letter to the Thessalonians that those of us who call ourselves Christians should not grieve as others do who have no hope.  As Christians, our grief is different, because as Christians we possess hope.  We have the hope that as God raised up Jesus from the dead, God has raised Bob.

Perhaps today, Bob Shaw has found another Bob, and maybe even the rest of the Texas Playboy band, and they, even now, are playing the guitar and singing together:

Will you miss me when I’m gone?

Will you ever think of me?

Will the past be just today…

If you cry yourself to sleep

As I did for you for so long

Then perhaps you’ll dream of me

Will you miss me when I’m gone…

…I love you just the same

More than you will ever know

When your hair has turned to white

And you feel so all alone

Maybe then you’ll think of me

Will you miss me when I’m gone?

It’s November

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Farmville Enterprise1 Comment

emptychair

It is November, and our world seems to get darker by the day. Sunny days are few and far between. There is a leak in our roof. Our car needs new brakes. A friend has let us down. Politicians continue to disappoint. Refugees despair as doors close. An airliner crashes killing hundreds on board. ISIS marches on. GI Joe was not the hero we thought he was. Promises have been broken. Trust has been betrayed. Relationships have failed.

It is November, and in a few days, we are somehow, someway supposed to gather around a table and a turkey and be grateful.

And this year, for the very first time, there will be an empty chair or two around that table. There will be sorrow, and there will be grief around that table. This year, there will be despair around that table.

During a famine, a widow once told Elijah: “I only have a handful of flour in a jar and a little oil in a jug. I am going to prepare one last meal and gather around the table one last time with my family. And then we will die” (1 Kings 17).

Elijah responded: “Thus says the Lord God of Israel: the jar will not be emptied, and the jug will not fail.” And Elijah was right. The widow and her family were able to eat from that jar and that jug around that table for many days and endure the famine.

This is how we can gather around a table and a turkey and be grateful this November. Because despite the dark and damp days, despite the closed doors and the shattered dreams, despite the sorrow and the grief, God promises that our jars will not be emptied and our jugs will not fail. God promises that hope will never disappoint us, for God’s love for us never ends.

The good news is that with the help of God we will endure these dark days of November until hope springs eternal.

Only Harry: Remembering Harry H. Albritton, Sr.

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn MemorialsLeave a comment

Let me share with you how I usually prepare a person’s eulogy. I think about the person’s life, their contributions, their personality, and then I find a biblical character or story that parallels, or in some way relates to, the person. This is how I usually prepare. However, when it comes to Harry Humphrey Albritton, Sr., usual preparation does not apply. Think with me. Is there one biblical story, or single biblical character, or anyone else you know for that matter, who compares to Harry?

During his final hours, the Hospice nurse came into the room to tell the family what to expect. She concluded by saying, “but everyone’s different.” I pointed to Harry and said, “And you have no idea just how different this one is.”

How many people do you know who played basketball well into his seventies, and played basketball very competitively, physically, tenaciously, always to win; taking on Rocky Stone and me, two against one, when Rocky and I were still young enough to play basketball?

Only Harry.

Who do you know who, when he began having trouble sleeping this past this year, went online and ordered himself a military cot, because he remembered the four years while he was serving our country in the Air Force, getting the best sleep of his life?

Only Harry.

How many people do you know who always, I mean always, told you exactly what he thought to be the truth, even when it came to religion or politics, even when he knew that what he believed to be the truth would make you angry and probably dislike him?

Only Harry.

How many people do you know who, when their pastor dropped by to see him one evening after the pastor got word that he was extremely sick, was honest enough to tell the truth when the pastor asked if there was anything the pastor could do to help, by answering: “Yeah. You can get the hell out of here!”

Only Harry.

How many people do you know who, while in the hospital the day after no one thought he would make it through the night, when his pastor came to see him on crutches following knee surgery, honestly greeted his pastor in the following manner:

“Did you come to see me on crutches?”

“Yes, I did,” I proudly responded.

“You dumb, stupid butt!” Of course, he was much more colorful than that. “You had no business running those long distances at your age! You should have had good sense and stuck to playing basketball!”

Only Harry.

How many people do you know who at a Wednesday night church supper, at the dinner table, in front of God and little old ladies, gave a birds-and-the-bees lecture to the pastor’s son who was getting ready to go off to college?

Only Harry.

How many people do you know living in Farmville who, because he believed in being a good steward of the earth, and because of just good common sense, drove an electric car?

Only Harry.

Who do you know who had the best HVAC system money could buy installed in his garage because of the empathy he possessed for his pets? Who owned dogs that live as he lived: first class all the way?

Only Harry.

How many people do you know who was wise enough and humble enough to begin using a walker before he ever broke a leg or a hip and strongly encouraged others to use one?

Only Harry.

How many people do you know in town who, because of his concern for the children of this town, was not only one of the oldest, active members of the Farmville Kiwanis Club, but paid for his pastor to also be a member?

Only Harry.

How many people do you know who, after listening to a presentation at church about a mission trip opportunity to repair homes in the rural Mountains of West Virginia, in one of the most impoverished areas in our country, became so moved, so agitated and so concerned that he stood up and spoke out, saying that he didn’t want to just put a “Band-Aid” on the poverty, but he wanted to actually do something to cure the poverty? He wanted to strategize, energize and mobilize to end the poverty, to repair the breach, to restore the streets, and make it a place where future generations could thrive.

He wanted to set up meetings with the CEO’s of corporations, with state and local government and investors and encourage them to build new factories in the area and offer employment. And if that did not work, he wanted to lobby Congress to provide tax incentives, to create ways to re-locate the residents to them to the jobs.

Someone responded, “We can’t do that!”

He said, “What do you mean ‘we can’t?’ There’s no such thing as ‘can’t.’ You mean, ‘we won’t.’”

Only Harry.

Who do you know who took his faith, and his call to share his faith, so seriously, that he recently purchased and distributed copies of a book entitled Jesus Calling at Bojangle’s and admonished all of the recipients to read it every morning when they woke?

Only Harry.

How many people in this post-9/11 world do you know who intentionally built a relationship, a genuine friendship, with one of the few Muslims in town: giving him a Bible; inviting him to church; and promising his God to be there if he ever came to church to do all that he could to make sure that felt more than welcomed at the communion table?

Only Harry.

How many people do you know who, because of his empathy for the elderly in town, especially the many widows living here, did all he knew how to do, to get a retirement home built here in Farmville?

Only Harry.

Who do you know who, after being told by his mother as a little boy that he could not go over to the home of his best friend Ting, because Ting had black skin, and he had white skin, went outside, got a hand full of some coal dust, spread it all over his arms and face, went back in and said: “Mama, now I have black skin. Now, can I please go home with my friend Ting?”

Only Harry.

How many white people do you know who went to the Paramount Theater in the late 1930’s with his black friend but sat in the balcony, because his friend was not allowed to sit downstairs with the whites? He said, “If my friend Ting is going to sit in the balcony, I am too.” He remembers being the only white boy sitting in the balcony that day.

Only Harry.

Who do you know who loved his pastor with an unparalleled frankness and straightforwardness; and loved his church faithfully and generously, yet critically and honestly, in a way like none other?

Only Harry.

Who loved ECU academics and athletics, supported them with his generous donations and with his faithful attendance, and with his ad nauseum discussions with you, especially if you were a Tar Heel?

Only Harry.

Who loved Joyce more than he loved his own life, who constantly bragged on her competence and her accomplishments, her faithfulness and her intelligence, even more than he bragged on his own basketball skills and East Carolina?

Only Harry.

Who loved his children with an honest and tough love, but also a compassionate and forgiving love, who continually preached to instill in them the virtues of hard work, of striving for excellence, of the willingness to change and to adapt, and of giving their all to make a difference in the world all the while loving neighbor as self?

And who do you know who did this and actually succeeded? How many people do you know who spent their last days surrounded by all of their children, all of them hard-working, successful contributors to society?

Only Harry.

Who loved his grandchildren with the same honest, tough, but compassionate and gracious love? Who has grandkids who will never forget this unrivaled love, who will undoubtedly grow up in this world with a little bit of their grandfather living in them, with this burning desire in their hearts to be the very best that they can be, to give their all to make this world a better place?

Only Harry.

Who has friends, a church and a family who will always be grateful to God for giving them the one and only, irreplaceable gift of God’s grace named Harry Humphrey Albritton Sr.?

Only Harry.

The good news is that because of the uniqueness of Harry, I believe our days of mourning will be quickly transformed into days of gratitude and celebration, if they haven’t already.

And here is more good news: It is very obvious to all that Harry was created in the image of our God and imaged our God through his faith in Christ, because the God that gave us the matchless gift of Harry, is, God’s self, matchless.

Of whom does Moses ask after the Israelites are delivered from slavery and death: “Who is like you, O Lord, among the gods?  Who is like you, majestic in holiness, awesome in splendor, doing wonders” (Exodus 15)?

Only God.

Of whom does the Psalmist ask: “For who is God except the Lord? And who is a rock besides our God?” “Who is like the Lord our God, who is seated on high, who looks far down on the heavens and the earth” (Psalm 18, 113)?

Only God.

To whom does King David pray: “Therefore you are great, O Lord God; for there is no one like you, and there is no God besides you” (2 Samuel 7)?

Only God.

Of whom is the prophet Jeremiah speaking: “There is none like you, O Lord; you are great, and your name is great in might… Among all the wise ones of the nations and in all their kingdoms there is no one like you” (Jeremiah 10)?

Only God.

Who commanded to the faithful, “You shall not pollute the land in which you live…You shall not defile the land in which you live, in the midst of which I dwell…” (Numbers 35)?

Only God.

Who through the prophet Isaiah admonished God’s people to strategize, energize and mobilize, “to rebuild the ancient ruins, to raise up the foundations for future generations, to be called the repairers of the breach, restorers of the streets to live in” (Isaiah 58)?

Only God.

Who through the writer to the Hebrews proclaimed the good news: “We do not belong to those who shrink back and are destroyed, but to those who have faith and are saved. And faith is the substance of things hoped for. The evidence of things to not seen” (Hebrews 10, 11)?

In other words: “There is no such thing as ‘can’t!'”

Only God

In the gospels, who gives the gift of God’s only self in the person of Jesus, showing us how to live and how to love:

By speaking the truth, even while knowing that people will be angered by that truth and reject him for that truth;

By being a living example of wisdom and humility;

By caring for children everywhere;

By having concern and taking action on the behalf of the poor, the vulnerable, and the widows;

By sharing the good news of God’s love with all people;

By accepting foreigners at his table, making disciples of all nations, all ethnicities and all religions;

By identifying with, and by friending, and by sitting beside, and by liberating those who have been regulated by society to sit in a seat on the margins;

By challenging all of his friends, his family of disciples, his sisters and his daughters, his sons and his brothers: to always strive for excellence, to do the very best that they can, to work hard while generously giving all that they have to give, even their very lives, to make this world a better place?

Only God.

And who sent his son into the world to say:

“Very truly, I tell you, anyone who hears my word and believes him who sent me has eternal life, and does not come under judgment, but has passed from death to life” (John 5).

“Very truly, I tell you, the hour is coming, and is now here, when the dead will hear the voice of the Son of God, and those who hear will live” (John 5).

“I am the resurrection and the life. All who believe in me shall never die” (John 11).

“In my father’s house, there are many dwelling places. If it were not so, would have told you that I go to prepare a place for you” (John 14).

Only God.

Who called apostles like Paul to say, “There is nothing in heaven or in all of creation, not even death itself, can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus” (Romans 8).

Only God.

And who called apostles like John to proclaim that the time is coming for all of us “when there is going to be no more mourning, no more crying, no more pain, and no more death” (Revelation 21)?

And who called people like Harry Humphrey Albritton, Sr. to walk in this distinctive way and to share this inimitable hope in word and deed?

Only God.

Closing Prayer and Commissioning

May we please stand. Let us pray together.

In the days ahead, O God, may we continue to thank you for the gift of the uniqueness of Harry, and for the many ways that Harry will forever remind us of the uniqueness of our loving, eternal and only God who we know fully through Jesus Christ our Lord and Savior. Amen.

Now go onward from this place as Christian soldiers remembering Harry and honoring God…

By strategizing, energizing and mobilizing,

By speaking the truth;

By being a living example of wisdom and humility;

By being a good steward of the creation;

By caring for children everywhere;

By having empathy for and taking action on the behalf of the poor and the vulnerable;

By sharing the good news of God’s love with all people;

By accepting foreigners at your table;

By identifying with and by friending and by sitting beside and by liberating those who have been regulated by society to sit in a seat on the margins;

By striving for excellence, doing all that you can do, giving all that you have to give, even your very lives, never saying the word “can’t,” to make this world a better place;

By rebuilding the ruins, repairing the breach, restoring the streets and raising the foundation for generations to come.

All in the name of Jesus Christ our matchless Lord, who reigns with the inimitable Father and Holy Spirit forever and ever. Amen.

She’d Had Enough

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn MemorialsLeave a comment

emma burnette

Luke 2:22-40 NRSV

I just read a story of a beautiful and faithful widow named Anna who lived almost ninety years. Mary and Joseph were presenting the baby Jesus in the temple for circumcision and purification when we are introduced to Anna. She, along with an elderly man named Simeon took part in the blessing of the little baby.

Anna is called a prophet by Luke. She continues the tradition of the great female prophets of the Old Testament—prophets like Miriam, Deborah, Huldah, and the wife of Isaiah. Luke tells us that she never left the temple, but worshipped both day and night. She praised God and spoke about the child to all. Luke paints a beautiful portrait of a devout and faithful woman.

With Simeon, Anna was looking forward to the fulfillment of all prophesy. Anna was looking forward to the salvation of the entire world. In spite of her advanced age, in spite of her physical limitations, Anna never despaired, but always hoped.

I believe it was this hope which caused this devout widow of great age to remain so faithful. It was the hope in the salvation and redemption of the world that kept Anna in the temple worshipping night and day—giving God all she had to give.

We meet Anna and Simeon, near the end of their lives, lives that were lived completely devoted to God and the Temple. We meet them as their joy and their hope is finally being fulfilled in meeting the baby Jesus. I imagine the two of them lovingly and adoringly holding the baby in their arms. 

Holding any baby always floods one’s spirit with hope, but holding this baby, in whom they understood as the fulfillment of the hope of the world, I imagine Anna and Simeon becoming so overwhelmed with hope that they became unable to restrain themselves. Together, nearing the end of their lives, that was enough to cause them to burst into song…

“Lord, now lettest thou thy servant(s) depart in peace, according to thy word: For mine eyes have seen thy salvation.”

Holding the hope and the salvation of the world in their arms, they sang a wonderful hymn consisting of phrases and lines from the Hebrew Scriptures, mostly from Isaiah 49 and 52—a song of God’s great final embrace of all peoples, Jew and Gentile—even while living in the last days of their lives, they sang a song of possibility, a song of a brand new future, a great song of hope.

On this particular day, I believe this story has a rather familiar ring to it.

Like Anna, Emma Burnette, was a devout and faithful woman who was devoted to her church where she spent her entire life worshiping and praying, day and night. She served as an elder and taught Sunday School for 67 years. You could call her a Presbyterian prophet.

Last weekend, nearing the end of her faithful and beautiful life, Emma told her family that she was ready to go home. She told them that she had had enough.  However, Emma was not giving up. Emma was not throwing in the towel. She was not losing the faith. I believe she was faithfully singing the song of Anna:

“Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, according to thy word.”

When Emma said that she’d had enough, I believe she was faithfully saying that, in her life, her eyes had seen salvation. She had seen her savior and savior of the world.  It was like she had held Him in her very arms. And that was enough for her. That was enough. That was enough for her to be able to faithfully say to her family, to her minister and to her God, “Lord, now lettest thou servant depart in peace.”

Last weekend, when Emma said that she was finished with doctors and medicines last weekend, she was not in despair. She was not giving up hope. No, Emma was embracing hope, because, like Anna, Emma had held a baby in her arms—and not just any baby—Emma literally held hope. Emma held possibility. Emma held life abundant and eternal. Emma held a new and glorious future. For Emma held Jesus.

When each of us nears the end of our lives, this is what faith in Christ is all about. It is about a widow, advanced in years, holding a baby and faithfully singing a song—a song of strength and a song of grace, a song of possibility and of life—abundant and eternal.  A song about a God who loves us so much that God sought to identify with us by becoming one of us.  A song about a God who has experienced the despair, brokenness and misery of this our fallen and broken world and promises to transform it, recreate it and resurrect it.

This is the good news for us today.  Instead of departing this service today in despair, we can leave singing a song—Emma’s song—a song of eternal hope and amazing grace.  A song that sings our God is Emmanuel, God with us and God for us, and God always working all things together for the good.  A song that sings that even in death, there is hope, there is possibility and there is life forevermore.

And the good news is, that is enough for us all.

Walter and Frances – A Love Story

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn MemorialsLeave a comment

Love story

Walter and Frances Blackley were married on the Tuesday before Valentine’s Day, February 13, 1945. They were married for 58 years. In February 2003, they both passed away, ten days apart, around Valentine’s Day. So each time Valentine’s Day rolls around, I remember them and their wonderful love story. The following are the words from their memorial services.

On February 8, 2003 I said…

Luke 2:25-32 NRSV

This scripture text contains one of the most beautiful prayers found in the Bible. In fact, it is more of a hymn than it is a prayer. It is a wonderful hymn of celebration consisting of verses found in the Hebrew Scriptures from the book of Isaiah. It is the last hymn of righteous and devout man named Simeon.

Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace, according to your word, for my eyes have seen your salvation, which you have prepared in the presence of al peoples, a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for the glory to your people Israel.

This was the last prayer of a righteous and devout man, named Simeon. I want to suggest that this was also the last prayer of a righteous and devout man named Walter Blackley.

Simeon was able to sing this prayer, because Simeon was given the blessed opportunity to hold the Christ Child in his arms. Simeon was given the opportunity to hold the hope for the world in his arms. Simeon was given the blessed opportunity to hold grace in his arms.

More than perhaps anyone that I know, I believe Walter was also a holder of grace.

Allow me to define the concept of grace for you by asking you a few questions:

What do you call a seventy-something-year-old man who was able hit a baseball and ran the bases with his grandson during a little league’s parents’ day?

I believe you call that grace.

What do you call an eighty year old man riding a jet ski with his thirteen-year old granddaughter?

I believe you call that grace.

What do you call someone who valiantly served his country in the Second World War, surviving untold horrors, without loss of limb and life?

You call that grace.

What do you call someone who contracted malaria that sent him home to a military hospital until the end of the war where soon after he married his girl named Frances with whom he shared 58 long years of happiness?

What do you call the gift of a small farm which provided needed therapy which helped a war veteran overcome the dreadful experiences of war?

You call that grace.

What do you all someone who was given the gift of three beautiful daughters and the gift of four beautiful grandchildren? What do you call the miracle of Vida Mclawhorn who has and continues to confound medical science and inspire us all?

You call that grace.

Walter understood that these gifts—this gift of abundant life, this gift of vigorous health, this gift of miraculous strength, and the gifts of love—were all completely unearned and underserved gifts of God’s amazing grace.

This is what I believe made Walter such a wonderful man.  This is what I believe made him so endearing and so loving to so many people.  This is why I believe Walter lived is life and served others in the community with such incredible integrity. This is why he treated everyone the same regardless of their ethnicity and regardless of their religion.  This is what gave this endearing man such a wonderful sense of humor.

Walter understood that it was God’s grace which kept him going so strong so late in his life.  Always in a hurry.  One of Walter’s all time favorite sayings was:  “C’mon Frances, we got it go!”

It was the amazing grace of God which enabled him to mow is own lawn every summer, even this last summer. . .with a push mower.  Walter Blackley was indeed a holder of grace.

Like Simeon, Walter had been given the wonderful opportunity to hold the Christ Child in his arms.  He had been given the opportunity in his eighty-six years to hold the promise of strength and the promise of help in times of trouble which was found through his relationship with Christ.  Walter had been given the opportunity to hold hope and salvation in his arms.

I believe this is what compelled this man to attend Sunday School and worship so faithfully Sunday after Sunday.  Walter came to church, even during the past year when the pain in his neck and shoulder was the greatest, because Walter realized that all that he had, and all that he had received were unearned, undeserved gifts of God’s amazing grace.

I believe the best news for us is that we who loved Walter and were loved by Walter, are also holders of grace. We are holders of grace because we too have been given a wonderful gift.  We too have been given a gift which was completely unearned and undeserved.  For we each of been given the gift of Walter—of  knowing him and loving him and being loved by him.  And when we can consider this, I believe our mourning and grief can be and will be transformed into thanksgiving and joy.

And in what may be more difficult, I believe we should also consider that we are holders of grace because have also been given the peaceful, gracious death of Walter.  I have heard many Christians tell me that they do not fear death.  It is dying that they fear. Christians do not fear going to be with God, it is the pathway to God that we fear—it is the suffering we fear. Yes, the way that Walter died is yet one more reason that I believe the last prayer of Simeon was the last prayer of Walter.

And I believe we also need to consider that we, like Simeon and like Walter, have also been given the gift of the gift of the Christ child.  We too have been given the gift of the promise of strength and help in times of trouble. As God had delivered Walter through so many of life’s storms, we can know that God can and will do the same for us.  God will see us through our grief and our pain, and God will one day see us through our deaths, as God has seen Walter through his. We are indeed holders of hope, holders of salvation, and holders of grace.

And hopefully, we too will one day be able to sing the prayer of Simeon and the prayer of Walter Blackley:

 Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace according to your word; for my eyes have seen your salvation, which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples, a light for revelation to the Gentiles, and for glory to your people Israel.

_____________________________________

On February 19, 2003 I said…

I need to say it, because during the last three days, we have all have been thinking it. We have said it silently to ourselves and out loud to others.

Frances was always just a few steps behind her husband, Walter.

It was like Walter had called from heaven, “Come on Frances, we got to go!”  Frances was always a few steps behind Walter because Frances loved to tell a story. Walter would say, “Frances, we’ve got to go” or “They’ve got to go. They’ve already heard that story ten times!”

And she would respond, “Well, I’m going to tell it again!”  Then she would say: “That man’s been rushing me since the day we got married!”

Yes, Frances loved to tell a story.  And this woman was the perfect story teller because she knew a little something about everything.  She was one of the most well-read ladies that I know.  She was also one of the most faithful Christians that I know.  Thus, many of her stories, her grandchildren recall, were like Aesop’s Fables. She had a story for everything, and each story taught us a valuable lesson about life. Carol, Janice and Vida, your lives and your children’s lives have been enriched forever because of those stories.  You are who you are—strong, caring, compassionate, loving, Christian—because of the many wonderful stories Frances told.  Her stories taught you to avoid gossip and pettiness.  Her stories taught you not to sweat the small stuff; to respect and to love everyone the same.  Her stories taught you to work hard, to be fair and to keep it simple.

Her stories taught you about love. That love is patient and kind. That love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. That love does not insist on its own way.  It is not irritable or resentful.  It does not rejoice in wrong doing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, hopes all things, and endures all things.

Many of us have said to one another and said to ourselves that Frances died the way Frances lived: Ten steps behind her husband, Walter, telling stories.

Frances spent the last ten days telling and retelling a wonderful love story that mimics a fairy tale.  Eleven days ago, Frances had the rare opportunity to share this love story with her entire family and a host of friends:

A love story of a seventeen-year-old beautiful stenographer from Salisbury named Frances who had eyes for a handsome, confident 25 year old named from Franklinton named Walter— A love story of a courtship that was only six months old when the couple was separated as Walter was called to serve his country during the Second World War— A love story of a long distance  relationship which endured two-and-one-half years as the two sent exchanged love letters between Salisbury and New Guinea— A love story of a young man who came home from the war to meet his girl in Salisbury on a Monday, and to elope the next day on Tuesday, the day before Valentine’s Day.  Frances told us of a love story which encompassed fifty-eight years of marriage— A love story about a couple who were completely devoted to their family, supportive of every  good thing their children did— A love story of a couple who always stayed together, always worked together, always worshipped together and always played together— A love story of a couple who spent many Saturday nights dancing together in their living room to ball room dance tunes emanating from their television tuned to the Lawrence Welk Show.

This past week I believe that Frances also told us another love story.  However, this story was not told with mere words. This story was told more with her life. This story was told more with her tremendous faith in God.  One of the grandchildren showed me Walter and Frances’ big family Bible.  Throughout the book, from Genesis to Revelation, there are dates written on the pages with two initials, “W.” and “F.”  Beginning in Genesis, Walter and Frances read the Bible together and then dated and initialed each passage.  They did this for years until they finished reading the Bible from cover to cover.

Yes, Frances loved to tell a story, but more importantly, Frances loved to tell the story.  With her life and with her faith, and with the word of God engraved on her heart, with tremendous fortitude, Frances shared with us the love story of God. –The love story of a God who has promised to never leave us or forsake us.  –The love story of a God who walks with us in the valley of the shadow of death no matter how many times we are forced to walk there –The love story of a God who promises to be present with us through the storms of life and to see us through them—The love story of a God who always gives us the strength that we need to face any trial and any tribulation—The love story of a God who is always in our world working all things together for the good—The love story of a God who has given us the wonderful gift of God’s self, the gift of the Spirit and the gift of the Church.

One of the first things that Frances said to me after Walter’s death was, “Jarrett, I have said it before, and I will say it again: “If you are going to have to go through trouble in this world, there is no better place to be than the church.”  Frances loved her church.  She knew that it was through her church and through her many relationships in the church that she was going to be alright.  She was so looking forward to attending her circle meeting on the Monday after Walter’s death.

Frances’ tremendous faith was unwavering.  She was so strong, so hopeful.

Over and over and over again, with her life and with her faith, Frances has shared with us the love story of God— The love story of a God who promises each of us who have lost so much recently that we too, are going to be alright— The love story of a God of resurrection and of hope— The love story of a God who is in the business of transforming our sorrow into joy, our despair into hope and death into life— The love story of a God who has brought life, abundant and eternal to Walter and Frances through resurrection and who is working even now to transform our shock and grief and pain into peace.

I believe God has already done that for many of us. When we first heard the tragic news of Frances’ sudden death, we were shaken and dismayed beyond belief. But then the God of resurrection came, and the God of resurrection began to work. And it was not long before the look of bewilderment on our faces was transformed into great big smiles.

“Come on. Frances, we got to go!” he said.

“That man has been rushing me since the day I married him!” she quipped.

“Come on Frances, they have heard that story already ten times!”

“Walter, you are going to have to wait, because I am going to tell it again!”

And that is exactly what she did.

She told us one more time the story— the story of unseen things above— the story of Jesus and his glory, the story of Jesus and his love.  She loved to tell the story, because she knew it to be true.  It satisfied her longings as nothing else can do.

My prayer for the Blackley family and for all of us who grieve is a simple one. Remember the love story of God which was shared over and over again by this beautiful woman.  May the love story of God, which was Frances’ story become our story.  May this story fill us with courage and with strength. And may we spend the rest of our days sharing this story with others, until that day comes when we will see the couple again face to face, as we will one day see God face to face.

A Silent Witness

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Short ArticlesLeave a comment

840-casket-before-burialSomeone recently asked me: “What do you say to someone who suddenly loses someone they love?” His close friend had just lost his father. And he said that when he went to visit him, he didn’t know what to say. So he did not say anything.

I told him saying nothing was probably the best thing that he could have said. For how many times do people say things to us when it would have been best if they did not say anything at all?

People are oftentimes guilty of being quick to speak and slow to listen.  I know I often am.  It is surprising I can even speak at all as often as my foot is in my mouth. We have all been guilty of saying stupid things. And we have all had stupid things said to us.

When Lori and I lost a child during the twenty-third week of her pregnancy, people shared with me some of the most stupid and hurtful words I have ever heard.  Words like:  “It’s just God’s will, and you will somehow have to deal with it.” “God knows what he is doing. He doesn’t make mistakes.” “Maybe God knew that you are not ready to be a father at this time.”

Instead of providing comfort these words only stirred me to anger: “Did God want us to lose our baby?! Did God take our baby because I was immature? If so, why are teenagers who are hooked on drugs having babies daily?!”

Oftentimes it is best to keep our mouths shut. However as Christians, we often feel like it is our obligation to say something. We feel that we must be a witness. And we feel that we must especially be a witness during times of crises and pain. I believe that we must learn that oftentimes our best witness is to be silent, ESPECIALLY during times of crises and pain.

Many of us perhaps avoid funeral homes and hospitals because we simply do not know what to say. Perhaps the best advice is: “Do not say anything.”

Simply go and be there. Offer a warm embrace. Let them know through your presence that you are suffering with them. Shed a tear. Shake a hand.

For oftentimes our best witness is a silent witness.

Henri Nouwen beautifully wrote:

When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares.

Faith in the God of the Living

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Just a ThoughtLeave a comment

obx_sunriseExcerpt from We Cannot Imagine

Luke 20:27-38 NRSV

What does having faith in the God of the living mean for you?

When he lost his job, he thought it was the end of the world. But a year later, working a new job, he now knows that losing that job was the very best thing that could have happened to him.

When her marriage fell apart, she thought that her life was over. But a few months later, she is beginning realize that although she cannot go back to the good old days, she has plenty of good new days ahead.

When the doctor gave him the grim diagnosis, he thought he had received a death sentence. But a short time later, he is beginning to understand that being alive and whole has very little to do with physical well-being.

And one day, when you face your final hours, you will become aware that, with faith in the God of the living, there is nothing “final” at all about them.

How God Always Responds to Death

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Just a ThoughtLeave a comment

Sermon Excerpt from Death at a Funeral

Luke 7:11-15

840-casket-before-burial

This is how I believe our God always responds to death: God does not will death. God does not ordain death. God is not sitting on a throne pushing buttons calling people home. Luke teaches us that when someone dies, God is moved very deeply.  It is a visceral reaction.  God is flooded with compassion for both the deceased and the living. God does not ignore death or accept death as a natural part of life, but on the contrary, God confronts death, recognizes the harsh reality of it, the sheer evil of it, and God is moved from the very depths of who God is.

Therefore, it is very inaccurate to ever say that in death: “God takes people home.” I have said many times that God is a giver not a taker. It is the very nature of who our loving God is. It is far more accurate to say that when any death occurs, no matter the age, no matter the circumstance, God confronts it. God is moved with compassion. And God doesn’t take, but gives God’s self completely, fully and finally to the one who dies and his or her grieving family.

God does not ignore death, or demean death, or simplify death saying, “This is all part of my purpose driven plan.”  Through Jesus, God does not let any death at a funeral simply pass by like it is somehow meant to be.  Through Christ, God is moved with compassion and sees death as a force contrary to God’s will and acts to overcome it. God always acts to transform death at a funeral into life at a funeral.